When you go through a crisis, like cancer, or someone dear's death, or any big thing, life naturally stratifies into levels of urgent, important, must, should, well----duh!----, maybe, and just can't.
After the crisis is over you see the glimmer of normalcy way above your head, and you start the slow rise to the surface through mountains of neglected mail, neglected projects, neglected duty.
This is a word to those in the middle of it, to those in the support system, to those observing: Nothing makes sense to anyone but the one in the middle.
There should be no judging, but inevitably we do.
I was plunged into a different world Friday, June 13th, 2014. Ed was dying from leukemia and in a fifteen minute span we made a decision and chose to get on a train that wasn't stopping for ten years, three and a half years of daily chemotherapy, followed by six and a half years of follow-up and repercussions. (Double knee replacement, et. al....)
Ed was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder just months before his cancer diagnosis, so that, of course, was a significant part of the equation as well.
When I look back I wonder how anyone survives the stresses and the tensions of acute or chronic illness, pain and mental distress. Although I am just the mom, I see the miraculous power of God in every single day.
It's amazing. It's God's grace. It's His help and healing, in even the small things.
As I begin to pick up where we left off five years ago I did a little inventory on what I'd left out.
Christmas/holiday stuff went out the window. We barely celebrated. I got rid of most of my holiday decorations. I still celebrate Jesus' birth, his resurrection, and other hallmarks of the year, but it involves so little preparation that I barely notice any difference.
Holidays simply mark the passing of time.
People, dear friends, sent me invitations to weddings, anniversaries, birthdays, baby showers, and graduations. I loved being included. Rarely could I even answer the RSVP. It was just too much. I "just couldn't." When it did fit in for Cherie or my husband, or even for me, I gladly participated. It was often as much a distraction as anything for me, I felt shell-shocked most of the time.
I know it appeared rude when I didn't respond. Believe me, my conscience was pricked, but I had three piles of things to do that screamed for my attention as well, and that invitation was just the thing that sort of tipped them over.
You can't imagine the paper that arrives at the home of someone in medical treatment.
Just last summer I was able to file three filing containers with most of what was already accumulated.
More has come since.
Distractions are welcome, but they don't always lend to the help of issues at hand. I welcomed distractions! I didn't do so well with integrating the outcomes with my tasks to be done already.
One must eat, one must dress, one must maintain a house with certain cleanliness. One must care for pets and yards. One must drive hundreds and thousands of miles. One must earn enough to keep things normal.
And now we start to breathe again.
Slowly, but surely, the piles are getting whittled down, the projects are begun again, and the lives of other people and their families are coming into focus.
This is crisis management, I'm convinced.
It seems selfish, but the burden to "be normal" really does weigh heavily on the minds of those dealing with desperate things.
One tries to manage.
I found that each day I had to spend time in God's Word. I had to rely on His strength. I had to focus on the tasks that were urgent and important, and my energy was directed at the day's plan. I could not have managed without God.
I could not.
I hope that I have learned that even in the midst of "normal" I cannot manage without God. I know this, but it's so easy to get distracted by the daily barrage of stuff and let God take a back seat.
It's ridiculous, but it happens.
I plead with you to learn from me! You need God to help you through each minute of each day. You may not believe me, but I tell you absolute truth.
"In Him we live and move and have our being."
This is the normal, the crisis, the final end: death. It's all in Him, and it is so sweet to trust in Jesus.
P.S. The seeds in the kitchen garden have sprouted. They need thinning.
After the crisis is over you see the glimmer of normalcy way above your head, and you start the slow rise to the surface through mountains of neglected mail, neglected projects, neglected duty.
This is a word to those in the middle of it, to those in the support system, to those observing: Nothing makes sense to anyone but the one in the middle.
There should be no judging, but inevitably we do.
I was plunged into a different world Friday, June 13th, 2014. Ed was dying from leukemia and in a fifteen minute span we made a decision and chose to get on a train that wasn't stopping for ten years, three and a half years of daily chemotherapy, followed by six and a half years of follow-up and repercussions. (Double knee replacement, et. al....)
Ed was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder just months before his cancer diagnosis, so that, of course, was a significant part of the equation as well.
When I look back I wonder how anyone survives the stresses and the tensions of acute or chronic illness, pain and mental distress. Although I am just the mom, I see the miraculous power of God in every single day.
It's amazing. It's God's grace. It's His help and healing, in even the small things.
As I begin to pick up where we left off five years ago I did a little inventory on what I'd left out.
Christmas/holiday stuff went out the window. We barely celebrated. I got rid of most of my holiday decorations. I still celebrate Jesus' birth, his resurrection, and other hallmarks of the year, but it involves so little preparation that I barely notice any difference.
Holidays simply mark the passing of time.
People, dear friends, sent me invitations to weddings, anniversaries, birthdays, baby showers, and graduations. I loved being included. Rarely could I even answer the RSVP. It was just too much. I "just couldn't." When it did fit in for Cherie or my husband, or even for me, I gladly participated. It was often as much a distraction as anything for me, I felt shell-shocked most of the time.
I know it appeared rude when I didn't respond. Believe me, my conscience was pricked, but I had three piles of things to do that screamed for my attention as well, and that invitation was just the thing that sort of tipped them over.
You can't imagine the paper that arrives at the home of someone in medical treatment.
Just last summer I was able to file three filing containers with most of what was already accumulated.
More has come since.
Distractions are welcome, but they don't always lend to the help of issues at hand. I welcomed distractions! I didn't do so well with integrating the outcomes with my tasks to be done already.
One must eat, one must dress, one must maintain a house with certain cleanliness. One must care for pets and yards. One must drive hundreds and thousands of miles. One must earn enough to keep things normal.
And now we start to breathe again.
Slowly, but surely, the piles are getting whittled down, the projects are begun again, and the lives of other people and their families are coming into focus.
This is crisis management, I'm convinced.
It seems selfish, but the burden to "be normal" really does weigh heavily on the minds of those dealing with desperate things.
One tries to manage.
I found that each day I had to spend time in God's Word. I had to rely on His strength. I had to focus on the tasks that were urgent and important, and my energy was directed at the day's plan. I could not have managed without God.
I could not.
I hope that I have learned that even in the midst of "normal" I cannot manage without God. I know this, but it's so easy to get distracted by the daily barrage of stuff and let God take a back seat.
It's ridiculous, but it happens.
I plead with you to learn from me! You need God to help you through each minute of each day. You may not believe me, but I tell you absolute truth.
"In Him we live and move and have our being."
This is the normal, the crisis, the final end: death. It's all in Him, and it is so sweet to trust in Jesus.
P.S. The seeds in the kitchen garden have sprouted. They need thinning.
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