frazzled & frumpy

My dad had back surgery last week.  The Sunday before, we gathered at my parent's home for dinner. Dad sat and explained the surgery. How they would open his stomach, push his organs aside and work on his spine. They would put everything back and sew him up. Then, after turning him over, they would open his back and work on him from there. He explained this rather casually. I'm sure he'd heard it so much and was used to it. For me, I was shocked. It seemed so incredibly invasive. I know he needs it, he's been in chronic pain for a very long time. But it just seemed like so much. I went in to see him after the surgery was over. I stood next to my sister and looked at my father. He was pale and frail. The man who had carried me on his shoulders as a child, provided for us, led us in family prayer, and seemed to have an answer for anything, had been reduced to laying on a bed, his breathing labored, eyes closed against the pain. Time can be cruel. It beats us d...

In church on Sunday, someone made the comment that we are in one of three places-- about to go into a crisis; in a crisis; or just coming out of a crisis.  As I look back at my life, I realize this is true.  It's not a bad thing, really. None of us get a life filled with sunshine and rainbows. Oh, the sunshine is there, as are the rainbows, but they aren't constant. Nor would we want them to be. Life is about growth, and growth requires trials. For me, I'm 'just coming out of crisis'. It was hard. It was heart-wrenching. It kept me down for weeks where I wanted nothing more than my bed, a box of tissues and the tv remote. I did not feel courageous. I felt weak, alone and angry. Angry because someone hurt me. They reached into my heart and used my greatest vulnerabilities and crushed me with them. They knew very well how this would hurt me, yet did it anyway. I was hurt and angry.  The anger burned in me and I held onto its warmth like a security blanket. I c...