I had a Procedure today, one of those mildly unpleasant ones that involve fasting for 2 days (clear liquids only), half a day of ingesting a month's worth of laxatives, and some sweet, sweet propofol. I was HONGRY afterwards but felt like I'd had a stiff martini, so rather than indulging in the Niffer's burger Dad had offered, he drove me straight home and I had some leftover stew. Of course, stew is always better as leftovers than the first day. I also ate a whole carton of ice cream (ok relax, it was a pint, not a half gallon) and had several cups of coffee. And a nap, coffee notwithstanding.
There are more Procedures on other parts of my 58 year old body, planned for next week. Might as well get it all done at once, right? Fortunately none of them involve fasting and laxatives. After that, a sweet year of nothing much unless Something Comes Up which, at 58, can do. Whatever. We live in a fallen world where bad things happen like diseases and infirmities and calameties, (calamaties? Ca-lam-uh-tees? Bad Things.) I can point to my life and show a few, though to be fair, in spite of dead beloveds, horribly injured children, and Japanese beetles eating my roses in spite of the traps THAT DON'T WORK, life's pretty sweet right now.
I am, as I like to recount every morning, ridiculously and utterly without merit, blessed. I have had the immense privilege of being loved by 2 men. I have gotten to see my children come through very hard times with a strong faith in Christ (It does NOT get any better than that.) Most mornings I can thank God for all that but occasionally there's a big fat WHY ME? I didn't do anything to deserve any of this. It just...fell on me like manna and quails in the desert. And I am grateful.
mmmm braised quail and figs.
Sometimes, this melancholy bent of mind kicks in and says "This is just a chance to catch your breath. Something bad is going to happen, you know" and yes. I know. I also know what can be lived through. How bad it can get and yet, survival happens. If something terrible should happen to me, I know where I'm going so really it's not that bad. My kids will be fine, they don't actually need me now. The only thing I fear is a long drawn out painful bit. I'm a wimp and The Good Stuff doesn't work on me, pain-wise.
My much-wiser-that-me youngest son reminded me to take it a day at a time. Jesus says in Matthew 6:34,
"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of it's own."
So I try not to do that...worry about tomorrow. I mean, God said not to and who am I to argue with Him?
