You all are just so wonderful. Thank you for the notes of encouragement you've sent me this week. I've read and re-read all of them. Getting them made Sunday bearable somehow. I'm still working on getting back to all of you since I'm not in tip-top emailing shape, but I will.
Thank you, also, for your offers of help (those of you who live near) and for your prayers. I can tell I have a big ol' crew of you propping me up with your prayers. On Sunday night, a Peace settled in my spirit and its been my steady companion all week.
I'm staying at my aunt and uncle's house this week. One of my doctors wonders if there's mold in my little bungalow on the ridge top causing some of my health problems, so this temporary move is an experiment to see if my symptoms subside in a different environment.
The timing is perfect. I don't know how I could have made it through this week alone, mold or not. It's nice to know there are people just a room away if something goes terribly awry. And it's nice to have an aunt who cuts some serious dance moves in the kitchen and an uncle who mans the grill like a boss. It's also nice to have people to give you healing hugs (oh hello, oxytocin) and pray with you when the world is swimming and gravity feels like a sumo wrestler who has pinned you to the couch.
And then there's this little perk I found sitting on the floor when I opened my bedroom door yesterday morning:
I've been in major strategy mode lately. Strategy 1: stay in bed all day and then you'll have stored up enough energy to go to the grocery store. Strategy 2: Make that two days and you can cook yourself a casserole. Strategy 3: Stay in bed for five days and you'll have enough strength to teach for three hours. They are precise and carefully crafted ratios that keep my body fed and my bills paid.
This week, however, my rest to work ratio hasn't worked, and when I went to bed Sunday night I had no idea how I'd make it through an afternoon of teaching the next day.
But then, on Monday morning, I opened my door and found T. Swift inviting me to "Shake it Off" on the car ride to work. As my friend J says, T. Swift is an example of common grace theology.
Speak it sister.
T. Swift's music has a way of fluffing the spirit which probably makes the brain release happy chemicals (oh hello, dopamine) which probably heals illnesses. It's a theory I'm willing to test all week. And I don't know how much T. Swift helped, but I know I felt the Holy Spirit carrying me through a very grueling afternoon. But man, my students made my afternoon a lot better, too. They're delightful.
The last few days have been full of so many other little gifts: my family praying for me over Google video chat; sitting in the sun in my aunt and uncle's quiet backyard; and the brussel sprouts and salmon we had for dinner last night. BRUSSEL SPROUTS, you guys. They're my favorite food in the world and my aunt didn't even know but God did and I think he was like, "Hey, Auntie K, I'm trying to show my girl some extra lovin' this week. Why don't you get her some brussel sprouts?"
Since Sunday, my vertigo has lessened a bit which has brought some physical relief and made it possible to enjoy the week's gifts a little bit more. I think my brain was so. stinking. tired. of trying to keep my body upright in addition to fighting whatever else is going on in my body, that it was either about to melt into a puddle of ooz, explode into a pile of shrapnel, or curl up and take a long winter's nap. I know a lot of you have been praying for physical relief, so thank you. I'm really grateful that God has allowed this bit of relief on the vertigo front.
If you're up to it, I'd love continued prayer for continued peace and insight from my doctors and the tests they're running so that we can figure out the cause of all this and address it promptly and properly.
I know a lot of you deal with chronic pain and illness, and I've been praying for you a lot this week. I imagine there are lots of you suffering whom I don't know, and I'd love to pray for you, too, if you feel like emailing me. We sickies gots tah stick together.
Okay, I'm propped up on some pillows and the bed is begging me to slide into a more horizontal position. I must obey her.
Keep on keepin' on,
© by scj