Did Paul and Silas sing Praise songs or was it one of “Woe is me?”
I am starting to sing songs in the night. I have sung before I'm sure, but the recent days may have changed my song. I wonder if the song Paul and Silas sang when they were behind prison bars was a praise song, one of the Psalmist David who was often in the pits, or one of their own making. I gotta feeling, we all sing different songs which express our feelings at the time. Maybe according to how long the sun has been set and how dark the night has become.
I call myself strong. One of my failures is little patients with others though. How could I be so impatient with others, when I myself make so many mistakes it is embarrassing to have to admit? Perfectionist I am not. Get the job done the best you can is my motto. It may not be done to someone else's expectations, but as long as it passes my inspection, let it go. Life is short; in fact too short to simmer over things that won't matter 100 years from now.
I'll still
confess I am a strong person. I've had to be. Life has made it necessary.
Another word for strong is resilient, and durable. Now I like those terms.
Again we do what we must do to survive, and durable has been my handlebar to
get me this far. Now I'll also confess, that my durability is an outward sign
of a relationship I have with my Lord, for it isn’t in me to be strong all by
myself. I won't tell you of the times I
have buried my face in HIS WORD, and left tear stains on the pages of my Bible.
It is only after abandoning myself into His waiting arms that I can say I am
strong because of His strength at work in me. The Apostle Paul said it best: 2Co_12:10 “Therefore
I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions,
in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak,
then am I strong.” (at this time, only the words in red I can
claim, not the rest - I’ve not learned to take pleasure…..in fact the real
reading should be this: “it is when I am
in persecutions, or in need, or being reproached, or infirmed, that I truly
have strength for Christ Sake who works in me”. It is only then I rely on my handlebar
of Faith. It is after all the storms are passed, and I am standing still that I
realize I really am durable.
My life is changing. Admittedly it has been since the day of my birth. However for the past couple weeks; changes are happening so fast my head is spinning. I haven't quite got my feet on the ground. This is one of those times of propelling myself into the path of His steps.
"I must have an audience with you O Father." I wail. "Do you know what is happening to us?" That is so silly! Of course He knows what is going on in my world. He lives in it with me. DUH! He was with me yesterday when I got the official word that my husband, whom I affectionately call "Dad", is not well, hasn't been well, won't be well again in this life.
It was last year when I actually took notice. My thoughts have been tumbling around in my head, but could not verbalize my concerns for a while now. It seemed strange that he would ask each day for the first four days of our vacation where his clothes were. I had packed separate bags for us, and had him involved in the process of packing as much as he would. Yet it took him at least four days to remember where his PJ's and fresh underwear were packed. I was impatient and maybe even unkind that he could not remember from one day to the next the red bag held his vacation belongings. I jokingly said, “Your brain has gone to lunch!”
Since July last year there were more signs - several weeks or maybe even a month or so in between signs, but they were there and sure were puzzling to me. I had no earthly friend I could talk it over with (I didn’t think anyway). I did mention it to his primary care physician, and he passed it off as "I am forgetful sometimes too. It is just the aging process." Doctor's know everything, don't they? They are supposed to have a veneer of care for their patient don't they? The answer is an unequivocal NO they don’t.
So for the sake of repeating myself, I just got mad, and didn't help matters for sure. However things took on speed about three weeks ago.
He had a heart cath. by a new (to us) cardiologist a couple Thursday’s ago. When the Doctor came to the family room to speak to me and my son Greg who was with me, he told us he found nothing wrong with his heart. The past surgeries he had had look good still, the stents were still in good shape. However he dropped a question on us that caused us pause. I looked at my son, who had looked at me and together we looked back at the Doctor. "Does Mr. Thompson have dementia?" He asked with concern.
I told him of my apprehensions but confessed I felt I had nowhere to turn. I did not know who could answer my gnawing questions. Greg and I began comparing notes and I shared with him some of the latest things that had caused me alarm.
Then yesterday, we got a solid answer; as solid as an answer can be without an MRI., which by the way is being scheduled for hopefully one day next week. We saw another new Doctor, a neurologist. I did not like him talking so plain and truthful in Dad’s presence. But I did not try to stop him. After much verbal testing, he stood up and gave us his diagnosis, but promised he would do an MRI. “I don’t want him driving anymore, and someone else must prepare his meds for him…….”
Today, he could not remember how to pump gas into the car. I told him I would handle it. His driving days are over. That grieves him.
Yes, I'm beginning to sing a midnight song. Right now it is one of "Lord, can I make it? Are you sure I'm up to the task?" My song will change in time. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness and finality is a lot for my pea brain to absorb and I haven’t gone there yet. I am trying to cope with all the changes that will be taking place in our lives in the recent future.
As for now and tomorrow, I am also sure there will be a few more tear stains on my trusted Bible. Especially on the Hebrews 13:5 ".....I will never leave you nor forsake you."
Doris
August 2, 2012
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