Perspective

Banter around our house lasts for about a week as Lent approaches.  Who will give up what, who will do what, what will we do as a family.  All sorts of comments and jokes are made "I'm giving up homework!, I'm giving up being polite, I'm giving up ...." The kids all laugh trying to beat each other, and it is comical, but also, it eases the tension of the seriousness of Lent and this season that calls us to give more of ourselves back to God and less of ourselves to our own desires.  There are the outward actions we take on, or let go of, but the internal are harder, the one's that call for our own conversion, giving ourselves over to the One. I think there is truth too that God will often give us something for Lent, some struggle, some discomfort that eeks out of us what we claim to desire ...full union with Him.  But claiming that, desiring it even, is far, far different from living it ...truly living it.  If we truly live it, we are living with joy. The hardships are embraced as blessings, trail markers from God.  That is so hard for us humans, us imperfect beings, especially me.  Those rare birds who really do live it spread joy in the places and spaces they find themselves, among the people who cross their paths.  I've been blessed with some friends who truly live that, and I know it's not easy, nor constant, but the majority of their lives are lived with this beautiful, extraordinary quality..  Someday, I hope to live that too. For now, it's a desire I have, something I pray for.
God chose a very specific cross for me in the second half of my life.  It is heavy, and carrying it is hard ...and constant.  Along the way, He's allowed some other crosses to enter my life, blindside me, leave me stunned and confused and feeling extremely hurt and betrayed.  So by now, I've come to understand (because things can take me a long, long time to grasp) that He has chosen a harder path for me than many others, while others have been given a trail that is barely passable, much more difficult than mine. I know prayer, sacrifice, conversion are ways to stay close to Him and appreciate the intensity of Lent for that reason.  I'd chosen my sacrifices for Lent, made my choices to live the season.  But immediately, God had different plans, and some pretty heavy, untimely burdens came my way.  I delved into a bit of a pity party, knowing full well that's what it was.  I prayed for God to show me greater suffering than my own so I would understand and embrace my blessings, rather than shudder in the pain I felt ...feel. He answered.
I work with the elderly, sometimes not so elderly, as a nurse.  I love my job, love the people I work with and feel enormously blessed that while I'm away from my family, I'm serving and making people's lives a bit better by caring for them.  On Thursday, while God was literally unfolding His plan for my Lenten walk, I cared for a fairly new patient.  I have twenty patients on a long-term care floor.  We are among the more 'progressive' facilities in that we don't fit the stereotype of the traditional nursing home.  As people live longer, have more healthcare options, we've become more like a sub-acute, stepdown floor that is aggressive in care.  It's an active and engaged environment, fast paced and dynamic.  This particular patient is new to me, I haven't 'gotten' her yet.  She is lovely.  Her diagnosis upon admission made us all cringe.  While I entered orders for her on Thursday, the challenge was to balance different directives from different doctors with different specialties, all with solid, confident egos.  I spent a lot of time on the phone for clarification, tracked down particular treatments rarely used.  It was a lot of work, added to an already intense schedule. Everything for her would start Friday, so while I 'knew' the orders, reviewed them with the other nurses and our aides being very specific, emphasizing the critical nature of what we were to do, only my intellect was engaged.  My heart wouldn't follow until today. Part of the treatments started yesterday while I wasn't there.  The rest started today, under my care and supervision. To say I was deeply humbled does not grasp what God revealed to me.  I felt both very small and insignificant, and at the same time ...beyond blessed.
We've all heard stories of what people must endure, hardships told that bring tears, and there are for sure worse things that people have had to experience.  I can't go into detail, but what I will tell you is that no woman should have to bear what this one does.  No woman should have to struggle each moment with the pain and outrageous unpleasantness of her condition, only to be completely at the mercy of her caregivers while in the most vulnerable situation I've ever witnessed.  And she moves through it with amazing grace.  In another culture, she'd likely be shunned, and outcast.  She has humbled me and witnessed what I've asked of God ...show me worse suffering than my own  (such a selfish, self absorbed question, I know) and He has.  And knowing my need for a shared experience He's provided my companion for this particular journey.
While I always work with two aides assigned specifically to my patients, there is one I believe is Heaven sent.  I have grown to  love her deeply.  We work very well together, often not needing words, just glances and gestures.  She makes me look good ...a lot. Her own sister has a tough diagnosis. Last night they held a fundraiser for her care expenses.  So Annie was a little late this morning.  She had glitter in her hair still from the party bring with her a sense of joy and festivity, a mood of gratitude.  This patient is one of her ten people.  She loves all of them and cares for each as if they were her own.  Today, Annie looked at me with her sparkling head and filled eyes.  "She's here to die you know," she said to me, "I can't get too attached, it will hurt too much."  I told her I didn't know that, I'd thought she was short term, we'd get her up and running, send her home.  Annie shook her head. We just looked at each other, made a silent pact, as we've done before.  She will die with dignity and beauty and grace ...we will help her.  Annie will get attached, and she will drag me along with her.  It will be a hard death, perhaps the hardest I will ever see, it will take months.  She will suffer even more than she is now. It is a horrible, horrible thing for any woman to experience.
I asked for God to show me a burden greater than my own.  If one day I have this same one, it will be different, I will have my children, perhaps my husband still.  I will not be alone.  She is ...all alone.  For sure, God is with her, ministering to her.  It takes me out of my own, unites me to hers ...because I do not want her to be alone.  I don't want her to feel so vulnerable.  Through her own suffering, I've been given the gift of caring for her, gaining perspective and reaching outside what pulls me down.  God put me right where I belong, gave me the view I needed to say thank you! thank you! great God of mine. 
The perfect answer to my imperfect prayer.  Please pray for my little lady.