I remember being told, "this too shall pass" during numerous of my hard times, little that I wish to remember, more that I wish to repeat, none that I would wish on my worst enemy. But God builds in us strength during those hard times, and character. And appreciation. How I appreciate even little things, little kindnesses. And it's made me less critical and judgmental of others. I believe there's more in me that I am yet to become aware of--God's timing for the future, I guess. Just remember, Psalm 23, God is with you and walks ahead of you, making sure there's nothing in your way that he hasn't walked through, first, Himself. He is always there. Merry Christmas to you both and to all.
That, in and of itself, is a mouthful. Amen!
It would take too long -- way too long -- to list the number of challenges, trials, heartaches, heartbreaks, and unforeseen circumstances that are just plain not fair when it comes to the life I've led, and am still living. Thankfully, true emphasis is on the "still living" part!
Actually, it would take a book to cover it all -- and a book is exactly what I am in the midst of writing. An autobiography, to be precise. (It's shaping up to be one loooooong autobiography, the more time passes!) I have a publisher, and everyone is incredibly kind there; I'll be having surgery to have all of my teeth removed in January (I'm only 39 -- it is a product of my neurological disorder), and then my second brain surgery in March -- hopefully this one will get me out of the bed/wheelchair, out of pain, and off the disability tract. (I say "hopefully," because there are no guarantees, and because it took so long to be diagnosed in the first place that I have irreversible neurological damage as a result.) Due to all of these things, I do have some leeway in my deadlines, but I don't have an advance. That is quite all right; I have a contract, and I can definitely understand their prudence.
My "family of origin" have never given me an ounce of consideration, nor have any of them helped me in any way (in fact, my parents demanded 90% of my retroactive disability checks for alleged debts that had to be decades old, if they existed at all -- but according to them, it all very conveniently added up to be $10,000!), and they haven't even bothered to come visit me (a 30 minute drive) in five years. They never call me either, except when my mother has needed someone to talk her through a problem with her computer (I was elected, and I did it) -- and if I call any of them, they are "too busy" and "don't have time" to bother with me. That is the condensed (no -- make that "concentrated, dehydrated, and powdered!") version.
On Thanksgiving, since I can no longer stand up to cook anything -- much less a big Thanksgiving dinner -- my fiance went to the assisted living home and had turkey dinner in the cafeteria with his mother, while I stayed in the bed and had mashed potatoes. Instant. Stale. (They were too old, and should have been replaced long ago.) My mother's sister, in Mississippi (where I am not), called that night, all excited, and asked about our visitors for the day. ("What visitors?") The exasperation in her sigh spoke volumes. "No one came to see you today? To bring you Thanksgiving dinner?!" I had to tell Aunt Bev that, indeed, "no one" was precisely who had come to visit, and that my Thanksgiving dinner consisted entirely of stale instant mashed potatoes. Plus! My "saintly" mother (and Aunt Bev's sister), the ER and parish nurse and Methodist minister, had outright lied to her. My mother doesn't know that Aunt Bev and I are communicating via email and telephone. Mommy Dearest got snared in a huge fabrication that time. Oh yes -- and I discovered that, should anything happen to my fiance, my parents won't take me in, and neither will either of my two younger sisters and their respective husbands. In fact, should anything happen to Bob while I am disabled, they will be placing me in a state nursing home. I've worked in state-run nursing homes; I had to quit because the way that the patients were treated was so inhumane that it gave me nightmares, and my attempts to get anything changed were stonewalled at every turn. I couldn't work there, yet that is where they are prepared to send me for the rest of my natural life.
I have cried, and I have been angry -- and I still am not exactly thrilled about any of it -- but despite everything, I know the love of Jesus Christ, and I am grateful for my salvation. I am grateful that no matter what happens to me on this earth, my eternal home will be a beautiful one, and I will never suffer from excruciating pain and headaches that threaten to cause my brain to explode (not to mention the neurological mess!) ever again.
Anyone may call me "Pollyanna," if they so desire. I don't mind. I am hardly living a charmed life, and I really never have. I had about six or seven years where things were really, really good, and I will never forget those. Unfortunately, my second husband died of inoperable pancreatic cancer in 1996. I know; it sounds like a soap opera. I wish it were. A good remote control could take care of it that way! But no, this is my life, and I'm just scratching the surface here.
I could sit around and sulk constantly, I suppose, but that wouldn't change anything. (It would only make my head hurt worse, and my head hurts badly enough already, thanks! *G?!*) You know what helps me? Helping people who are less fortunate than I am. (Believe it or not, they're out there!) Helping innocent children who have lost their parents, or children who have been victims of child abuse, or were sexually abused (often by a family member) . . . and helping "man's best friend," when man's best friend is treated like so much garbage, and abused, and abandoned, and left to die. . . . The events of 9/11 opened my eyes even further. There is still a (dim) possibility that my "family of origin" will see the light one day. It's a very small possibility, but it's there. So very many people lost their loved ones on 9/11, and they will never be coming back. It's a matter of perspective, I guess. I have no clue where I got mine (obviously not from my parents), but wherever I got it from, I'm grateful that I did. (Thank you God!)
My life has been filled with enough pain, sorrow, and ugliness already. I refuse to invite any more of it inside. I refuse to let it get the best of me. I don't have a choice about a lot of it, but when it comes to the things that I do have a choice in -- I choose optimism. I choose life. And I choose God.
Oh! Someone stated that s/he felt that stories such as the ones on this thread are apocryphal. Let me assure you -- the story about the little girl (titled "Toothless Grin") is not one of them. I know, because I wrote it. And yes, I witnessed it. First-hand. There is nothing questionable about it. There is goodness in the world. It does exist. Just as apathy and ugliness exist. It's merely a question of which one you want to focus on. I've made my choice. And that has made all the difference.
God bless and God Jul!
Sharon