Meanwhile, I Dance

I get up. I walk. I fall down. And, meanwhile, I dance. Rabbi Hillel

One weekend in the life of a woman with a disability...

Thursday night: I was overwhelmed by all there is to do to get ready for Christmas and all that I cannot do. I can't bring the Christmas boxes from the basement. I can't put up a tree. I can't clean this pit without help. Smack dab in the middle of my pity party and crying jag, my phone rang. It was an elderly woman who suffers from depression due to an incapacitating illness. Somebody urged her to call me because I might offer her hope. I called her and said, "I'm not in a good place to talk tonight, but let's connect this weekend." Then I sat there feeling very blessed that I DO have a hope inside me to offer others. My whole attitude changed for the opportunity to help somebody else. It was good to feel needed.

Friday: I decided to believe that asking for help to clean my house and prepare for the holiday might bless somebody, I called a young woman who had previously offered. She was thrilled and told me what a blessing it would be to give back to me for all the help I had given her in working through her issues. She said I was like a mom to her. wow. Encouraged, I reached out to a relative I have neglected for years and from whom I feared a (much deserved) blaming/shaming response. He was a love and said he would love to hear from me! Such grace.

Friday night: Celebrate Recovery was awesome. The women from Magdalene, recovering from drug addictions and prostitution, graced us with their lives and stories. My daughter has described nights like this as "feeling like the room is full of soft feathers."

Saturday: The Alternative Gift Market at our church, which I helped lead, was a beautiful event. Buying Christmas gifts that bring hope and better lives to people in difficult circumstances throughout the world...so close to the heart of God. The spirit in the room was lovely. I connected with a beautiful friend who has been battling cancer. I hadn't seen her in months. She said, "I've been praying for you. I've been worried about you." Such selfless grace.

Sunday: M. came over and tore through my house with gusto. In short order she transformed the main living areas into sparkling loveliness. She offered to come back on Tuesday. My next door neighbor told me she wants to come and help this week. Her sister, grieving from the loss of her husband, wants to help, too. I'm beginning to see a pattern emerging... wholeness through serving others, and wholeness through receiving from others.

I have a serious plumbing issue with water spilling out onto the floor when the washing machine spins. Shower drain overflowing. ugh.

Sunday Night Late: Getting ready to go to bed. Late. Can't find my crutches which I need to get into bed. OH NO! They are outside on the carport where I left them when I returned from church! It's 2 am and COLD outside. It takes me about ten minutes to get them and not easy to juggle them and roll the wheelchair up the ramp. Meanwhile, the dog escapes from the house and I'm calling, "Rio, COME!" while trying not to disturb the neighbors. He finally comes home.

Finally, exhausted, I prepare to "slip" into bed. And slip I did, right onto the floor. At this point, I had a choice... to crawl into the bathroom, push up onto the toilet and then use my crutches to stand up... which is probably more difficult than an able bodied reader might realize...Or to pull a pillow and blanket from the bed and curl up on the wood floor. I was SO tired, I chose option 2. While laying there, I was so grateful for my life. It is not an easy life. And not one I would have chosen. But, it is a life that gives and receives blessings. It is a life that can alternate between desperation and delight within a short time span. My hips, aching against the hard floor and my head nestled on the blissfully soft pillow perfectly depict the tension of my life. I fell asleep and slept hard. And woke up and crawled to the bathroom to begin another day. (Note: $500 later my plumbing problem was solved. Drainage. Don't take it for granted!)

I fall down. And, meanwhile, I dance.

Does My Dream Still Wait?

Hello blog,
I've neglected you, haven't I. One observation I've made about wellness bloggers: the frequency of posts is directly proportional to discipline. The more discipline, the more success, the more desire to write.

Let's see now. Hmm. Three months... three stinkin' months without a post. Based on my hypothesis that discipline results in frequent posts, an astute reader could reasonably ascertain that a three month hiatus does not bode well. Indeed.

WHAT HAPPENED? I honestly ask that question. I was doing SO well. Better than anytime in my life. Emotionally, spiritually, physically... improvement on every level.

Using my previous metaphor about the mountain climber, at some point in September, I climbed semi-conscious from my sleeping bag, sleepwalked down the trail, drove zombie-like out of the forest to the nearest town where I proceeded to troll the four-lane highway (every town has one just outside the city limits, complete with a Wal-mart and two dozen or so fast food joints). Here I am three months later waking up from the stupor with an empty ketchup packet dried to my cheek and a car full of McTaco King boxes littering the floorboard. Worst of all, I'm craving a Chocolate dipped Dunkin-Blizzard.

Three months ago I was dreaming of increased health and wellness and was realizing that dream. Then, I became comatose and left the dream back at the campsite. I wonder if it still waits for my return. As the days have shortened and the leaves have fallen and the blue skies given way to winter's gray, does that dream huddle under a thread-bare blanket with her arms wrapped around her cold legs and wonder why I left her forlorn beside the gray ashes in the campfire ring?

How do I dare approach her and ask for a second chance? Second chance? Who am I fooling? She's heard it all a thousand times, and yet, she keeps taking me back. She listens to my apologies, my "I'll do betters", and with a painful and sweet smile always opens her arms to fresh beginnings. How do I have the audacity to ask once again, especially after we had so bonded, the dream and I, only to be amputated, both left with tatters where whole flesh once grew?

And, yet, what choice do I have. The dream was created for me and me for her.

So, I sit underneath a black sky and golden arches and prepare to prepare to prepare to drive back to the trail head and start the climb again, knowing it will be even harder with a body that's been fuel-injected with trans-fats and high fructose corn syrup.