A Saturday Meltdown

Unfinished Life, D. Bolton

A writer is usually not supposed to start a piece with I;  

however, one sometimes can only begin with I."

I

have 

more than

one chronic illness.

One of these is spondylitis.

Since I felt pretty good today, 

I thought I would take the dog outside

and get some sun.  I would say hello to my husband,

and I would even cut a few overgrown bean and tomato vines.

                                                            I managed to step in a hole hidden by the grass, and I

                                                            knew my knee would pay later;  however, in a few minutes,

                                                            I could feel my lower back breaking in half -- at least, that is what

                                                            it felt like -- excruciating pain!  In misery and tears, I climbed the 

                                                            stairs going into the house, hot rail burning my hand.  I had to hold 

                                                            it or I could not climb.  I was mad the rail was black and hot,

                                                            that my back hurt again.  Every step felt like agony.

Mini-meltdown time.

Tears and why me time.

Am I allowed to feel this is unfair, 

because there is so much more I want to do?

I get tired of sitting in my chair, old before my time.

It has been too long, and how can I expect others to understand

when it is so hard for me?  My body does not cooperate with my mind and spirit.

"I'm supposed to be active," I say.  But, the most active parts of me sometimes seem to be

My heart, my mind, my spirit, and my fingers typing away on this keyboard, flying and pecking away

through tingling, numbness, and swelling.  

Thank you God, for heart, mind, spirit, soul, fingers, eyes, and every part of me that works -- even those parts that don't work so well.  You have reminded me,  I can be free and new every day, with hope in my heart, because you, dear Father God, are here with me.  

So, tears aside, I have the best.  I have Joy!  Joy!  Joy!  

And I have hope, because I know I have what is most important in my life:

I have a Savior, Jesus:  I have love. 

Therefore, she quickly broke away from the self-pity, and  she remembered she had purpose still.  What good would it bring to imagine life differently?  This is the life she had.  It was a good one, despite all she had suffered.  If she had never experienced life's pains and victory, she would never have had the richness of finding herself.  

~Deborah Bolton~