Passions of the Soul

Declaration

KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS:

    WHEREAS, the Council having met and considered all available information, and having made its determination, the Council makes the following Declaration:

    THAT major back surgery, e.g., disk fusion, especially a multiple fusion, constitutes a major assault on the physical body and is not to be taken lightly;

    FURTHERMORE, that if, at a relatively young age it does appear that surgery will be needed at some time, patient and doctor should consider doing it sooner, rather than later, as the 60-something (or older) body does not heal and bounce back as quickly as the younger;

    HOWEVER, this Declaration by the Council is made and presented with the full acknowledgement that Council does not know nearly all of the ramifications of such a recommendation and,

    THEREFORE, any individual considering undergoing such major surgery must not depend on the lay opinion of the Council, but must make her or his own decision based on the facts of her or his own case and the recommendations of his or her own doctors.

    IN CONSIDERATION WHEREOF, the Council quietly adjourns.

Grace Gift in My Life: Reuben

Today is Father's Day, and social networking sites are filled with good wishes and statements of love and gratitude to dads, some of whom have gone on ahead. I love to read those, especially when they give any example of what made Dad stand out for them. But they also make me aware of a hole in my life, and that has come into sharp relief, yesterday and today. 

Several months after my parents divorced, my dad left the state we lived in, never to return. I wish I could tell you that his going was a terrible loss--and in some ways, it was, only because I was nine years old and daddies are not supposed to go away, forever. But, in some instances, it's better that they do where there has been abuse, chaos caused by addictions, mental illness, or whatever; and yes, sometimes healing takes place and some degree of reconciliation may be possible. Reconciliation was not possible, for us, and Dad's going away forever was best. But this post is not about him.

Sometimes, at least, God brings other people into the life of a child with only one parent, or with parents who have such severe problems that they can not effectively parent their children. Last year, I wrote a post for Father's Day--my first, ever--to honor Tom Clendenen. Tom was the first such man to come into my life, for a season, and I loved him very much. And having reconnected several years ago and even enjoyed a visit, early this year, I assure you that I still do. He and Eva are still really neat people who loved a little girl who felt adrift.

Other men, youth pastors and a few others, filled the need for male role models in my life. I don't mean that they taught me how to be a good man; that would be silly. But they exemplified good, Christian men who could and did invest themselves in the lives of kids and teenagers, including my life. I am ever and forever grateful to them. Don Hughes, now gone ahead, and Norm Shoemaker tried to help mold me into a reasonably healthy, contributing, Christian young woman. That was a tall order, but they were committed, and I still tear up when I remember how important they were to me and how God used them in my life.

Before I reached college, Norm brought into our youth group a godly man and student of the scriptures to speak to us for a week of special gatherings. Reuben Welch had been a pastor and had come to the church-related college in our town as an assistant professor in the Religion department. A kinder, more humble, more genuine follower of Christ Jesus I have never met. I have met a few whom I would describe in the same words, but none has surpassed him. I do not mean to imply that any of them is perfect, never feels frustrated with the demands made on him, never says anything he might not have said, with a little more thought; after all, they aren't in heaven, yet.

When I entered the church college, Reuben became my advisor, as I had listed a major in Religion. But he became so much more to me than he ever bargained for. I sought him out often for nonacademic counseling; as he was not always available when I insisted I needed to talk to him now, I learned that I could survive while waiting until Friday. I also learned that, no matter what I told him about myself, he responded in love and compassion. He was my first recognized example of the unconditional nature of God's love; that does not mean no one I'd ever known loved me unconditionally, but I hadn't recognized it.

Note from the Un-Blogger

Wow. It's been almost two full months, since I last posted anything here. That's very bad for blogging, but there are good reasons: low back problems that worsened rapidly, after the first of the year, with two weeks of perhaps the worst pain I had ever experienced prior to triple-fusion surgery* just over a month ago. Both before and since surgery, sitting for very long has been painful, in varying degrees. It's getting less so, some of the time; sometimes, I almost involuntarily stand, quickly, to take the pressure off. Sigh.

*I wrote that phrase, "had ever experienced prior to ... surgery" as I did for a reason: Coming out of anesthesia without nausea and vomiting, for the first time ever, I tried something different: I think I woke myself up, yelling, "Make it stop!! Make it stop!! Make it stop!!" referring, of course, to the horrendous pain. The nurses and others around my bed seemed less than happy with my waking. Of course, once I was awake and aware of yelling, I stopped.

Have I learned anything very profound, from this experience? Don't know; time will put everything into perspective. But profound or not, I have learned that I really can let go of how I like things to be done. My husband has been my caregiver, and he's done a good job. He has made a real point, numerous times ('cause I had trouble believing, I guess), that caring for me is not burden; it is a joy and an honor. Go figure. But as he said would happen, we have drawn closer, still, and we were really close, before.

As I've gained strength, we've both learned that we can work well, together, in the kitchen. He's never considered himself a cook, but he can prepare simple meals and do them well. Because we've eaten simply--and always at home--I've lost several pounds. The other factor is that I have not regained much of an appetite, and I find myself eating a little something, just because I know I need to. I've dropped more pounds than I would have wanted, or believed possible, and I would be getting concerned, except that I know we will begin eating more normally in the near future, and at least some of those pounds will return. In the injustice of it all, while I've lost pounds, I have lost almost nothing, in inches. :(

As for following instructions, I've not done well. I mean well, but I'm under the No BLT rule: No Bending, Lifting or Twisting. Right. Have you ever tried toweling off after a shower without bending or twisting? Think about this, as you go through your day: How many times, and in how many ways, do you bend at the waist, do a crunch (e.g., putting on socks or tying your shoes), or twist, even slightly? And with steel (or pewter?) rods, nuts and bolts from L3-S1, my low back is not very giving--or forgiving.

So my current prayer request is that God, in His mercy, will ensure that healing continues as it should, unhampered by my inattention to what I'm doing; that He will help me to be more attentive; and that, when the year is over (if not sooner!), we will know that this was all worthwhile, with marked improvement in loss of pain.

I'm not sure who might be interested in reading about anything I learn, as I go, but I'll at least try to be more disciplined about writing. That's a value, in itself.