My hands go still over the keys. Waiting.
This is the place where I parse my life, search through the daily events to discover what lies beneath. Most of the time I live on just the tip of the iceberg. I see so little of how God works. So I write to learn.
Most of the time I am concerned with the matters of my own little life, with the pain of those closest to me, with the joys and trials and worries and wonders of those with whom I am in relationship.
And I have to confess that lately I've caught up in 'very me,' as a poet (whose name I can't quite remember at the moment) put it. It's not news that I live in a rather weak body, with pain in many parts. As I write those words, however, I quickly want to bear witness to God's faithfulness in my life, to the grace He's given to me in giving me EXACTLY this life and this body. Exactly as it is, flaws and weaknesses alike. CS Lewis says, "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts to us in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." I've come to believe that pain--and being thankful IN it--is the one thing He's given to me to share with the Body. To the world. Mind you, I don't say 'thankful FOR it' but IN it, because HE walks in my pain with me, as He walked in the fiery furnace with Shadrach and his buddies or was in the lion's den with Daniel. He is always in the pain with us.
Yes, there is an however. Sometimes I get wrapped up in me. I forget. I stop thanking Him with my whole heart. Forget that He is really, really in it; instead, I plead, and push and pretty much act like a ninny, crying in a heap. I've been like that lately. Yes, my physical pain has been pretty bad. Significant enough that I've found relief only when flat on my back in bed. I can't drive distances now, because I'm a liability--to myself or to others. So it's a reduced life.
Thursday, Beve and I went to Seattle to see a neurosurgeon. Though that might still be in my future, he at least gave me hope that there are other treatments that will help before considering such a serious (and not necessarily successful) option. These treatments me more trips south, more relying on Beve to get me there, but potentially giving me back some of my life.
So I take heart.
And last week, while I was caught up in my own small life, the world was exploding. And I was reminded that I am the least of these. And what I suffer is little.
Finally it hits me like a lightning bolt that my physical suffering does not keep me from being able to pray, to mediate on His word, to be in relationship with Him. In fact, some of the most powerful intercession He ever does through me happens when I am unable to 'do', but must simply be, because my body won't allow for anything else. It's the most glorious thing, the most amazing, wonderful thing. Deep and wide and high and love--and I wouldn't change it.
So when you read this, and are tempted to pray for my physical health, stop a moment and ask God--as I am doing--how He can most use me for His Kingdom. Whether healthy or hurt, His will be done. Amen.