The day I had to face it - I can't do everything

As much as I share things, as much as I try to see God at work in every situation so that I can share His goodness, there are still things that I keep ultra personal. A lot of it is I simply LOATHE being the center of attention so I don't draw any purposefully. Other times I just don't want to be treated differently or be reminded about what's going on.
This fall though, with the intensity life provided, the pain I've felt in my back, as far back as I could remember, became unbearable. I took handfuls of ibuprofen and naproxen on a regular basis. I wore Thermacare heat packs until my back was covered in blisters. I would have to take a few days off then start the cycle again. I slept on heating pads & even got a jack for the car so it could travel with me. The occasional numbness in my right thigh moved down my leg until it finally reached my toes & became constant. Life gave me no option to slow down at the time nor would I go back & change a single decision that I made.
Then momma tried to hug me one night. I recoiled because the blisters hadn't quite healed from the day before. My secret was exposed. She made me promise that night to make an appointment when "life settled down a bit". I went to the doctor in January and ended up at the neurosurgeon last week.
I was faced with the reality that the damage done to the discs in my back meant no more "just push through it", no more slap a heat pack on & get to it, no more mowing my yard, no more running. No more running. But all that news also meant that it wasn't just in my head, as most people with chronic pain fear. I've never had a doctor tell me that I don't take enough medicine. Then again, I've never had a doctor tell me, at only 39 years old, that I will have to have multiple discs in my back replaced in the foreseeable future. There was a lot to take in at that appointment. A lot that would need to be processed.
The kids' science fair is this weekend though so let's just get through it, right? No. Tomorrow morning I begin treatment, for what I thought was all in my head, with steriod injections to prepare for the next phase of treatment. I'm not afraid of the appointment or the procedure, I just don't have time for it. I don't have time to be down. I'm still trying to recuperate from all the time off we took this fall. Then you tell me that I can't sweep or vacuum anymore? I'm a stay at home mom, doc. Sweeping & vacuuming ARE my job. Cleaning, mowing & running are my healthy coping techniques. I felt lost. I feel lost. With everything else our family is facing, I'm barely hanging on.  
Enter a tiny ballerina. Pig's ballet class is early on Monday afternoons. I confess that because of the craziness that has been life lately, I drop her off & return to pick her up two hours later. I haven't actually seen her ballet routine this semester, nor had I heard the song until she jumped in the car following class.
"Momma, you have to hear what Ms Whitney chose to be our ballet song!" Before I go any further, Ms Whitney didn't know anything that was going on in our lives until that evening. She, nor my precious Piggy, knew how much I had been struggling that morning, holding back tears & whispering the conversation I was having with God - Please calm my heart. Please calm my heart. I'm so anxious & all these things.....I just need Your reassurance.
I listened as Pigs fumbled with my phone, trying to find the song on YouTube. She plugged my phone into the car's sound system and I listened as the piano began to play. I recognized the song, I've even blogged about it before. But it hadn't been where my heart went that morning.

Be still my soul
The Lord is on your side
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain
Leave to thy God to order and provide
In everything, He faithful will remain.

Tears began to roll down my face as my whispers had a very tangible answer now. I sang along until I got to the bridge. This was a new version to me so I just listened.

In You I trust, In You I found my hope
In You I trust, You never let me go.
I place my life within Your hands alone.
Be still, my soul

Calm my heart. That was what I had whispered.  I'll never let you go. That was God's loving response.
The only way my whispers could have been answered more tangibly would have been for me to have seen the spiritual battle that was going on around me. The oppression. The depression. The lies.
Before the piano stopped playing, that ball in the pit of my stomach was gone. I felt like I had a little more breathing room. My situation hadn't changed at all. My limitations were still in place. I still face reality that the three things that calm me the most will no longer be the activities I can go to for solitude. My heart, my trust, my hope had been redirected by my head. But only temporarily. My head & hands felt lost, & they probably will for a while, but my heart had been refocused.  
Chronic pain is a rollercoaster. Those that suffer do so quietly for the most part. Why? Because complaining doesn't change their reality and sympathy doesn't help their situation. The physical pain is rivaled only by the emotional. Everyday is a battle as they want to, & think they should be able to, do everything. The battle that goes on within themselves is exhausting & most of the time they're on the verge of just giving up. Then the anxiety of giving up ties them in knots as they think about all they're not doing. Their level of self expectation is higher than any that is imposed on them.
The truth is NONE OF US, chronic pain or not, CAN DO EVERYTHING! In those moments when I'm threatened to be swallowed up by what I'm not doing, I have to trust that God will never let me go. My hope isn't found in all those tasks that are now off limits anyway. My hope is in the One who never changes. He has no limitations. He can take my rollercoaster days & still my soul. I have to leave it to Him to order my days & provide everything that I need - not everything that I want, but that I need to grow.

Even when my focus shifts, He is faithful to remain.

It was my turn to drive

I was born on my daddy's 24th birthday. Back before the days of ultrasounds & pink baby showers, before dads were allowed in the delivery rooms, I'm told he anxiously awaited my arrival with his ear to the door. When he returned to that family filled room, he didn't say a word but was smiling like the Cheshire Cat, enjoying the momentary secret about the pinkness that had just entered the world. I have from that day, and will always be, my daddy's little girl. 
For months this fall, I enjoyed an evening ride home from gma's with him & Buster the wonder dog. Following gma's journey Home, there was a large adjustment period as those rides quickly ceased. So how then would it escape me that tonight would be the beginning of another journey in which I would drive him home for the first time?
It's no secret that Gma P isn't doing well. The long term steriod use for a rare type of pneumonia has caused some neuropathy in her spinal column. Neuropathy we prayed would be alleviated by a procedure two weeks ago. But that just isn't the case. Fortifying one vertebra meant compromising those surrounding it. And here we are, two weeks later, in the same amount of pain, in a different location. An emergency MRI was ordered this afternoon.
Because of the events of the day, it would be necessary for someone to stay the night with Gma P. Momma. But that meant daddy would need a ride home. As I drove the 8 miles to her house, flashbacks of this fall filled my mind & flooded my eyes. Here we are again.
There are still many unknowns with Gma P's future but one thing we do know is that we are quickly approaching the point that she cannot live alone anymore. Moving her means moving life itself. The house she's lived in her entire adult life was lovingly & painstakingly built by Gma P, Gpa P & her dad. Each floor board & attic beam was hand chosen. This is not just a house that she's lived in but literally a home that she built.
As I drove home tonight, with daddy & Buster the wonder dog in the passenger seat of my car, I relished the time we were again having alone together. Only this time it would be different. It was his mom. They were his thoughts we processed and my fears he listened to this time.
I don't know what the future holds for us but I do know that this time it will be my daddy that needs me. I've never known that feeling before. He's always been my hero. He's always been invincible. He's always been my rock. How can I ever be his?
By doing what I've always done.
A friend of mine started my day with a text send by God himself through her. It was a picture of our lesson notes from the bible study we attend together. - "The most commonplace activities - if done for Christ through the Holy Spirit - are of eternal significance. Every thought, all your prayer, the smallest of acts, though imperfect, become as fine linen that adorns you as Christ's eternal bride."
By loving Jesus enough to sacrifice the things I want, the time I don't have, the gas to drive home so that I can do those commonplace things for Gma P & daddy means that I can be one of his rocks. Because it's in the commonplace things that eternal significance is made.