After 2 1/2 years of having Audrey, Larry’s mom, living with us, we are moving her on Tuesday into a care house with caregivers caring for 3 women. We visited the care house today. It feels so weird to think that the hands-on caregiving is over. Of course, if I were well, I’d really be thrilled; like crazy. But knowing I really won’t be able to take full advantage of it, I’m only relieved knowing I won’t have to think about caring for her. The other benefits of the freedom, etc, won’t be meaningful until after the surgery and the Lord heals me.
I really think she will do well in the house setting. She had begun refusing to leave the day care where she goes for Monday-Friday. She thought she lived there. Now that she’ll stay in one place all the time, she won’t be moving around and getting more confused. And one of the residents is quite talkative and alert. I think she will welcome Audrey and be a good friend. And the caregivers seem very loving and experienced. It’s a lovely house highly recommended through a friend whose business is to help place elders in good places.
I have a sense that the Lord has released us and said, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” Although I really thought that she would stay here until she died here. But with my back condition and having surgery hopefully in December, and the pressure of Larry having to care of two disabled women, our limit has been reached. It feels like in the Lord’s power, we should be able to do it endlessly regardless of the circumstances. But as Pastor Marvin commented, “You’re only called to do what God wants you to do; not everything.”
Ramblings on pain and future surgery:
I can tell when I’m putting hope in the surgery, because I’m no longer praying for God’s healing before surgery; I’m just holding on until surgery. The Lord gave me the message of “be patient” as He directed me to read Psalm 37. That really sunk deep in my soul and I’ve been resting in it. He only wants me to live moment by moment, (as I should be doing about everything) not anticipating being in pain for several more weeks until the surgery. Otherwise, it feels so overwhelming and I begin to think, “I can’t do this.”
But He wants me to not anticipate anything other than walking with him. Of course, it’s easy to just be patient as I trust in taking the pain meds. But Lord, I really want to rest in you; with your strength– to walk moment by moment.
I also can tell when I’m putting my trust in the surgery and leaving out the Lord when an obstacle occurs for progression toward surgery. Like this past week when I found out it would take me 2 weeks to see Dr Nasr, my regular doctor who has to refer me to pre-surgery tests. And I also found out it had taken a week for the surgeon/office to get the request in to the insurance. As a result, my surgery hasn’t even been authorized yet. I was so discouraged. I cried because the obstacle was tantamount to me. In moments like that, I’m not trusting in the Lord’s timing but in my desperation to get something going and to be out of pain.
Yes, it’s normal to want to be out of pain and it’s normal to take measures to be out of pain. But if that drive and demand leave out the Lord, then it’s sin. I’m saying I must have this. I want to say, “Lord, I must have you and I trust you to provide everything else I truly need.”
The sense of entitlement creaks in so stealthily. After all, isn’t it normal to expect to be out of pain? It seems a given. But there are many Christians who struggle with chronic pain. No, it’s not a given that I shouldn’t be in pain. I’m not entitled to have anything. Only my position in Christ is my entitlement.
I’ve really been trying to include “if the Lord heals me” in my thinking and speaking. It’s more of a reminder to me that my healing is dependent upon the Lord. I hope it doesn’t sound negative or that I don’t think the surgery can help me. I think it can. But it can’t without the Lord’s permission and His healing touch.