Fun Finds Me

"Lynna, as your therapist, let me say that you need more fun in your life."

A few years ago, while dealing with the aftermath of a failed marriage, Grace smiled on me in the form of the kindest, most wonderful therapist who offered his services to me at an insanely reduced rate. (I don't know which was better: the reduced rate or his belief in me and desire to help me heal.)

I remember tearing up when he told me I needed more fun in my life. In a split second, I accessed the filing cabinet in my brain and pulled out the file "All the Things I once Loved That I Can No Longer Do". It's a thick file and the pages are stained with tears. I wanted to say to him, "Don't you understand? With a progressive neuromuscular disease, it's risky business to take pleasure in activities... you never know when your body will no longer co-operate and you'll have to add a new page to the expanding file of losses. Surely, there's a limit to the weight of grief and mourning that a human being can endure... at least this human being."

I did respond by telling him, "My fun is helping other people. I take enjoyment and pleasure in helping other people thrive."

That was true. My job was "fun" in the sense of being satisfying, creative, rewarding. Unfortunately, I had few other outlets for enjoyment that weren't in some way related to my job and the people at my church. For the past few months, since I resigned under duress (which added about an inch of paperwork to the "Losses" file), my "fun" tank has been bone dry.

I've been casting about for another ministry in which to immerse myself. While I've been preoccupied in that regard, Grace has arrived with a handful of helium balloons and an invitation to play.

"God, I've been asking for meaningful work and you are offering play. That is SOOO YOU!"

(See the next post for details!)