Empowered - Just a Little

With Don away for the weekend, I slept late Sunday morning. But even with the extra sleep, my allotted morning coffee intake didn't increase momentum.

Sluggish, I showered, dressed, sorted medicines, and tried to get out the door on time. But by the time I entered the sanctuary, worship music blared.

Determined, I scooted over to my normal seat, only to find it filled. Unable to remain inconspicuous as I rolled around looking for another, I fought embarrassment as I settled into a near-by pew.

Before I brushed off the feelings in their entirety, Colette rounded the corner, pushing Randy in his wheelchair.

Randy is my husband’s best friend. So, even though Randy’s outward demeanor totally changed after a brain tumor surgery two years ago, Don has stayed close. Thus, I know their journey.

It hasn’t been easy. And never will be.

Soon after Randy settled into a pew and Colette parked his wheelchair against the back wall, Ken and Cathy rolled in.

Ken suffered a spinal stroke just a few years ago. Paralyzed from the waist down, he’s spent the last several years adjusting to life in a customized wheelchair.

Their journey hasn’t been easy either. And also never will be.

With Ken and Cathy seated in the pew right in front of me, I almost pulled out my IPhone to take a picture of the duo with Randy and Colette not far in front. But I refrained. Our unspoken comradery settled lingering disappointment, and that was enough. 

Slow on the uptake, it had been hard for all of us to just get there -- to throw off fatigue, the difficulty, and the voices that lured us back to bed.

As we spoke after the service, Ken voiced many of my same struggles. While we long to participate fully, the truth is, we can’t. So, we constantly dance between pushing and resting. Participating and hiding.

Just last week I shared with a friend, “I’m beginning to realize that most of my recent disappointments can really be traced back to the illness.”

The thought continued.

“I don’t want to face it most of the time because I want to live above it. I want to be strong and face things with courage. But the reality is, most people don’t really understand what I go through, and that effects almost every relationship and activity in my life.”

Trust me, I’m not looking for pity or trying to invoke unwarranted emotion.

But after this weekend, I’m reminded once again that there’s an army of chronically ill warriors trying to live life at a pace they just can’t. 

So what do we do?

It's hard to say.

So I'll end today's post with two things. First, please consider donating $28 to the Foundation for Mitochondrial Medicine in honor of Rare Disease Day, Feb. 28th: #give28on28

Second, will you take a minute and share your experiences or suggestions. If you battle a chronic illness, how could the church or community better serve you? And if you serve as a care-giver, what do you see as the greatest need for those stuck at home with limited energy? Or what is your greatest need?

Understanding? An occasional meal? Friends who stay the course?

There's no wrong answer, so write. Tell me what you think. Because I feel empowered - just a little - but enough to seek clarity as to the stirring within.

And yes, I may have seen a recording of the Broadway musical, Newsies, on the big screen last Sunday... which I highly recommend. 

All photos courtesy of pixabay.com