Three Gifts That I Would Never Return

I have a pain in my side.

Both literally and figuratively.

The pain in the middle of my abdomen from my surgeries and from the MRSA wound is getting much better. Much, much better. However, in my lower right side, there is still a dull nagging pain that just will not subside. It is really just like a thorn in my side. It is there because there was a remaining piece of the old, infected mesh, that the surgeons were unable to remove. It is something I will just have to live with. But it is there, and I notice it a lot.

Recently, I did some reading about St. Paul. Before having the scales fall from his eyes and experiencing the wonderful revelation about Jesus, Paul (or Saul in his earlier days) was not a very nice guy. In fact, he was horrible. He mercilessly persecuted Christians for many years, until his own personal revelation. Paul became a changed man after his encounter with God.

However, even after receiving God's forgiveness and becoming a Christian, Paul suffered. A lot.
He was imprisoned, beaten, threatened, stoned, shipwrecked, robbed, and chased throughout his entire ministry. On top of all of this, he had a persistent, unrelenting "thorn" oppressing his body. (2 Corinthians 12:7-8). Three times he called upon God and begged for relief. You'd think that God would keep His best servants in perfect condition and optimal health! But rather than receiving a grand, sweeping cure, Paul was given a deeper answer: "My grace is sufficient for you'.

I'm sure that's not the answer old Paul was looking for!

Since I have been able to get out and about lately, many people have asked me about my health and my crazy past few months, and more than not, they seem to question how I can remain faithful. Questions like "How could God allow this to happen to you?" or the one that really bothers me "Why did God do this to you?" My answer is and always has been that God did not do this to me, but instead is giving me the means to come to Him first when circumstances go sour to get through these trials. I can see in the faces of some, that they are just not getting what I am saying.

I think that many of my fellow believers believe that after placing their faith in God, that hardships will just disappear or avert them completely.  I am a perfect living case that indeed, that is not the truth. I get the feeling that seeing me unsettles or makes some people question their own faith. "If she's such a believer, why does $#%& keep happening to her?!"

My struggles only make sense to me if I continually try to see my difficulties through God's eyes; as an opportunity for growth. An untested faith is weak and ineffective. Just like our muscles, our faith must be tested against resistance. Sure, I get upset about cancer, pain, limitations, etc. I've done more than my fair share of cussing and pouting, but God knows me, and he knows I believe in Him.

He has given me the gift of Wisdom.

There is a wisdom that can be learned from experience and attained intellectually. It is a form of spiritual guidance. When the gift of wisdom is operating for me, I learn how to handle a certain issue in an exceptionally wise way (even though I am not necessarily a wise person!), one that is beyond my natural learning or experience that lines up with God's purpose for me.

I try (keyword = try) to not let circumstances intimidate me to much. I am able to do this because I can reflect back on so many situations and God's hand on me during them. I know that God gives me just the amount of strength I need to get through each day because:
1. I ask for it.
2. He knows what I need, long before I do.

That, my friends, is the gift of Faith.

When this gift is in operation for me, I am able to comfortably believe in God for something that others would see as impossible. I have total faith for something that others may be daunted by or even terrified of. It is a sense of boldness that I do not normally possess. Sometimes, the more challenging my day it seems, the more God showers me with this gift.

So that brings me back to Paul and his thorn...

Learning about Paul has given me a fresh outlook on my "thorn". Perhaps instead of praying for my quick fix or cure, I'll begin to ask God what He wants me to accomplish through this weakness. Perhaps my "thorn' just may be the vessel which God can display his unlimited power to my friends and acquaintances.

That, my friends, is the gift of Acceptance.

In Faith,
Kim

Progress... Not Perfection

I am starting to make some real progress in my recovery. Three months ago today, I was having my PIC line inserted before the surgery that I was scheduled for the next day. It seems like light years ago. I am beginning to settle (keyword = beginning) into my 'new normal' routine. I am even making peace with my can vs. can't do list. I am forward strides and it feels so good!

Several weeks ago, the stir crazies set in. I found myself feeling like I was literally going to come out of my skin, I was that antsy. It was hard to admit to myself, and even more so to other people, that the wonderful feeling of getting out of the hospital and coming home to my house, was beginning to wear off. With Tessa and Torrie in school and Ken finally back to work and traveling, I suddenly found myself quite alone. Even with the outpouring of offers from friends to be with me, take me places, etc., I struggled with not feeling well enough to go out and at one point, starting to feel the need to 'entertain' when people came over. Me and my stir crazy brain were really starting to fall apart. I wanted to be with people but I very much also wanted to be left alone. My internal voice turned on me with statements like "You're not being very grateful", 'What are you whining about?", blah, blah, blah. Alone...in my own head, not so good.

So I talked to my doctor. This is not uncommon, she told me. Many patients, after long term hospitalization, feel this way. Even though I came to despise the constant invasion of my space and body by the medical staff, it was contact and dialogue. At home, with everyone gone and not being able to do much but rest, I was feeling true helplessness and frustration. With no one else around to take it out on (thank goodness), I turned on myself. I felt myself isolating and couldn't figure out why. She told me it was a classic case of PTSD and fortunately, with professional care, I passed through the crisis time.

My body beginning to heal has helped my emotions tremendously. Being able to kiss the hospital bed goodbye, move up and down stairs easier, being able to stroll around the yard, was the real medicine for me. The past couple of weeks have been especially positive for me. I tackled a big project that I left uncompleted before surgery. Knowing I would not be able to do this after surgery, I removed the carpeting in the entry way and stairway to expose the wood floors underneath. Sanding and painting the backs of the stairs is what was left to be done. So VERY slowly, I sat on each step, and probably much more meticulously than I would have done if my belly wasn't such a mess, did a pretty darn good job of bringing our staircase to its shiny new self. I am most proud of the fact that I was able to take my time (three days, to be truthful), and not freak out that I had to leave things at a standstill. - the old Type A, OCD, Perfectionist me that would have started in the morning and worked through meals, sleep, whatever, to have the project done in one shot.- Boy, have I learned a lot from my practice of Mindfulness Meditation!! Once the stairs were done, of course the railing and banister need to be sanded and re stained... much more meditation practice needed...

Ta da!!

A huge leap was being able to drive again! I really didn't have many places that I needed to go, but just knowing that I could if I wanted to gave me a tremendous lift. The pain has become much more tolerable, so less pain medicine is needed. On the days I know I will be driving, I bite the bullet. My wound is still a real mess, though. Originally, the size of Ken's stretched opened hand and about an inch deep, it is now about the size of my hand, and not too deep. Very slow progress. Even though I can shower, wear normal clothes, put on makeup and fluff the hair, it is so hard to feel pretty with the bandage and packing right below the surface, constantly on my mind. I am still trusting my doctor that the open wound will completely come together, but from my point of view, it too will be a miracle. Each day, I pack the wound with gauze that has been saturated with Dakin's solution. This stuff is basically watered down bleach. It smells just like bleach and it has stained my two best pair of leggings just like bleach. I am so self conscious that people I stand close to will smell it. I guess that is much better than having an odor of infection though, ugh.


This week was the best so far, though. I finally made it back to the gym! Mind you, I am only walking at a snail's pace on the treadmill, but I am there. Actually, the hardest part of my workout is bending over to lace up my shoes. The old me wants to tackle the eliptical and do planks and squats...the new me is going to have to learn to be content with walking. I am sure as I heal more and get stronger, I will be able to incorporate more. For now, I am grateful that I can finally recline fully back so that I can get my hair done next week!

Progress...next week, I go back to see my Oncologist. I had my final treatment in July to let my immune system strengthen, but now it's time to make plans to go back on the chemo. This really shows that I am getting stronger, because I am about to engage again in the fight that never stops.

Namaste.
Kim