Admitting my Needs
I took advantage of the cancellations, quarantine and closures to update our entire house: replacing or painting everything except the windows, popcorn ceilings, counters, sinks and tubs. Never have I had time like this to put into our home, and after good first quarter art sales, I also had some money to put into it. For three and a half months I haven’t done any art, but the work has been worth it- our home is comfortable and clean, just in time for us to leave for San Diego, where my husband will have major lung surgery to remove numerous scar tissue- old blood clots which block blood/oxygen flow and put pressure on his right heart in this rare disease.
My daughter said I took on the multiple house projects to avoid dealing with my emotions over this scary surgery- the risk of losing my husband of nearly 31 years. I told her she was wrong, but now that I’ve put away my power tools, I can’t help but feel a deep, dark foreboding at the prospect of driving across our covid-riddled nation with a dangerously high-risk loved one, testing, meeting with his medical team, and waiting alone during the ten-hour procedure where his body will be cold and his heart will be stopped (restarted every 20 minutes), and, because of the virus, not seeing him from the time he wakes up until he’s released from the hospital, 8-14 days after.
Last week my daily question journal asked: “What do you need help with?” If you know me, you know my initial response: “Nothing! I’m fine; I’ve totally got it under control (through Christ who strengthens me). No worries here, thank you!” After thinking it through, I realized that I do need help admitting that I need help; that I’m weak; that I’m scared; that I don’t know what to do with this beyond growing closer to God. I haven’t told many people about it, and I’m reminded of when we were pregnant with our third baby, and my husband and I kept it to ourselves for months, enjoying our sweet, happy little secret. I grew close to God then too, and even that scares me because of how that pregnancy ended in tragedy. This isn’t a happy little secret, nor do I predict it will end in tragedy, but the physical isolation imposed by this crisis actually (ironically) pulled me away from social media, and keeps me from broadcasting news like this.
I’ve grown much less media-connected in the last few months. I don’t feel like sharing my every thought or success or woe; I don’t seek approval or external validation as I once did. (Yet I still manage to type I, I, I…) I decided to type this because I think we’re meant to share our faith and our struggles with others- that if one of the 12 people who see this blog are helped by reading this, or more likely, if I am able to sort something out and gain peace through the writing of it, then it’s a win, praise the Lord.
A few days ago, I read Nehemiah 8:10: “Nehemiah said, ‘Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is holy to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.’” The joy of the Lord is my strength! When I’m feeling strong in Him, connected to Him, I am able to enjoy life better; I send words of hope to those who need it. I don’t grieve. Then there are times like this, when I’m not sure what’s ahead, when my heart is faint, where I must cry out to Him, “Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” (PS 61:2) This verse ties into my independence, not wanting to appear weak by asking people for help- it’s actually a form of pride, of making myself the only person I depend upon. I may have resolved needing praise from others, but I still validate myself in my independence, and though I think I’m no longer into appearances, this facade of strength is a protective stronghold, making me look stoic and impenetrable when I’m actually vulnerable and weak. The “great and powerful Oz” was actually a weak little man hiding behind a curtain.
Having to stay away from people for my husband’s safety shows me we need community- that even as a "loner," I need community. I need my Bible study ladies, my life group friends, my pastors, friends and church family, even the strangers I used to open the door for or chat with in line at stores. Not just so I can reach out encourage them, as is often my purpose, but so I can also reach out in my own need. Christ is the rock that is higher than I. We obviously draw closer to the Lord when we endure hardships and face the unknown, trusting in His strength, but I believe the lesson for me here is to realize that we’re to draw nearer to each other in these times as well- to share our weakness and our fears, to be lowly worms and not high towers of personal strength. Admitting that I’m vulnerable to fear and uncertainty rather than “made of stone” shows me that we are to depend on each other, to resonate and prop each other up, pointing to the Source of our refuge and strength, and giving Him the praise and the glory. When I refuse someone's offer of help, telling them I'm just fine, I am actually keeping them from that same good feeling I get when the Holy Spirit uses me to reach out and help light someone's way.
So here’s is what I ask of you, my praying friends: please pray for my husband Terry’s surgeons and support staff in San Diego, for him to feel the presence and peace of the Holy Spirit, and for his safety in a successful surgery and full recovery. And for me: Huge praise that the Lord is with us in this. I can’t imagine doing life without Him. And give Him praise for friends whose prayers and support encourage us in Him. Please pray that my joy and strength in Him completely overshadows any perceived strength in myself- that I see and admit to others my weaknesses, fear, needs, and human frailty, as I support my husband in the weeks ahead. Thank you so much.