I’m a lousy patient. No question about it.
I’ve no problem caring for others who are sick. Except my husband. If he moans and groans too long, I tend to acquire a “Suck it up, dude” attitude.
If it’s me that’s under the weather? Denial smacks me upside the head like a wrecking ball. I can’t get sick. I’ve things to do. Places to go. People to see. So much rides on me showing up.
How wonky my reasoning can be when I’ve got a fever.
I’ve been in bed for most of four days, and it doesn’t feel any better now than when this hit. I don’t get headaches–and I’ve got a doozy of one that’s trying to push my eyeballs out of their sockets. I don’t appreciate spurts and squirts–let’s just leave it at that. (Eruptions from both ends aren’t pretty.)
Rest is the logical antidote for whatever bug is running amok inside me. I am tired. It’s been a busy fall.
Rest doesn’t happen easily for me. Turning my head off and not listening to the “shoulda, woulda, coulda” refrain is a big deal. What I want to do is fix the problem and be done with it.
The first day of this inconvenience, I knew I needed to do something to curtail the pain in my head. I looked through our medicine cabinet–which has more junk than not, and much of it expired– and found some extra strength acetaminophen. Tylenol. Great to have on hand. Knowing how bad my head hurt, I figured three might take the edge off.
Five hours later, I woke up. Surprised I’d fallen asleep in the middle of the day–that never happens. Just twinges of the headache remained.
My daughter, Tiffany, and her family were with us for the week. She came to check on me and asked if I needed anything, I said three more of the extra strength Tylenol would be a blessing.
“There’s no extra strength Tylenol.”
I slumped into the kitchen–drama still lives in spite of illness–and pointed to the bottle I’d used.
“It’s PM, Mom.”
I looked at the label. Extra strength PM Tylenol.
I’d knocked myself out.
There are times in life when I’m not careful about resolving issues. I want the quick fix, whatever will work in the moment. I don’t pay attention to the details enough to think through consequences.
God gets the big picture. He misses nothing. He makes no mistakes. He cares about all the details that are part of my life.
That doesn’t mean just because I follow Jesus, everything works out the way I want it to. Life is full of of pitfalls that require responses. Hard choices that can end up good or bad.
Challenges happen because we don’t live in a perfect world.
God is big enough to use the hard and inconvenient for my good, in ways I can’t often see in the moment. He doesn’t merely fix. He transforms.
He’s in control. Even when it’s hard.
Our messy selves are still in the equation.
Knock yourself out with that truth.