You’ve all been there . . . rocking along through life, handling a face-paced job, spreading yourself between family members and their needs, going to school and holding down a job, ministering to the needs of others in your community, serving in your church . . . in other words, life is happening and you are fully invested in it. You are handling it.
You are enjoying it. You are able to keep up, until there is an interruption . . .
Until something comes along to rob you of your ability to do some, or all, of the things you love doing. Some of the things you feel called to do. Some of the things you have dreamed of or imagined you would be able to do.
Something has interrupted the flow of your life.
For me, it is pain . . . again. Arthritic issues have flared in my neck and radiate down my arm and hand. Weakness, tingling, numbness combined with increasing pain levels, and quality of life is compromised.
This time of year, I love to work in my yard and flower beds. Planting, trimming, nurturing, creating beauty brings deep joy. Though that is one of the things I am not supposed to do, still I am tempted. And when I give in and pretend as if I am not facing neck issues, pain is quick to remind me of the truth! And quick to bring more frustration at what I can’t do, yet should be able to do at this age and stage of life.
Planting flowers brings joy and peace, and though essential in a way to my well being, it is not essential to life. Working on the computer is essential in the life of a writer, and it is essential in my ministry. But when my fingers won’t do what my brain is telling them to do . . . neither my work, nor my writing, go well.
Focus, drive and awareness are critical in a ministry among people and the children we serve. Crucial in leading many areas of our church’s involvement in an impoverished area of our city. But when pain levels consume me, they hinder my ability to think and concentrate making ministry a challenge.
So what do I do with this interruption . . .
Today I lay it – my pain, my life at His feet. I focus on my Lord. I ask for provision, for strength. I beg for mercy, for healing. I pray for the neurologist and physical therapist as they make decisions this week as to where we go from here.
I pray for guidance and direction in moving forward, in knowing what to do and what not to do.
I wait . . .
I trust that the One who created me is the One who will sustain me. The One who will enable me even in, especially in, the interruptions of life.
For God’s love is deep. God’s mercies are everlasting. God’s strength is enough. God’s faithfulness endures to all generations. God is with me . . . .
And in my pain, with my all, I will praise God’s Holy Name.