Destination Discipline

“Dogs live most of life in Quiet Heart. Humans live mostly next door in Desperate Heart. Now and then will do you good to live in our zip code.” Trixie Koontz (from Bliss to You)

After 5 days of solitude in the country, I have returned to the bustle of city life. With all its hectic busyness, chaos and technological insanity, I find myself longing for the quiet mornings watching the bird feeder with my cup of hot tea. The working world is calling me back and I have to go.

I have been meeting with a counselor over the past month and have been doing my homework. I am supposed to journal my feelings every day (so I don’t stuff them) and I chart out goals for 2024. I also did something she didn’t ask me to do, I made a list of all the good things (blessings) God has done for me over the years as a way of remembering His goodness. This exercise has been the most impactful in helping me to know He is faithful and will help me to go forward.

Watching the birds at the feeder gives me peace (see the titmouse hanging out?)

I sat at the kitchen table in the country and was engulfed with quiet and calm. I remembered one, two and then twenty plus things. There have been so many times I was fearful about where God provided. Even now I remember times He helped me that weren’t on my list. There was that time my home was in foreclosure and He provided a job and I was able to save the house. Or that time I was grieving the loss of a close friendship and He helped me to forgive that person for ghosting me. I also remembered how addicted to sugar I was and how heavy I was and how He helped me to stop eating unhealthy food and start exercising. I know I’ve been writing about it for a long time, but this is a major blessing in my life that continues to bear fruit. I went to visit a neighbor in the country and she told me her daughter is morbidly obese and her leg bones are like Swiss cheese to the point she can’t walk and they had to give her stem cells to try to help heal the bones. I have aches and pains and arthritis, but at least I’m still able to walk. That is a MAJOR blessing!

The biggest thing my counselor tells me is that I am too hard on myself and I need to practice self-care. I am struggling in this area. I need to take care of my family and I need to stay healthy. I generally take care of everyone else before me. I feel the retreat was self-care but I have to live in the real world. Also, it’s really hard to not think about all the things I am afraid of. I had nightmares 4 out of 5 nights while I was there. I don’t understand how to stop having nightmares or how to stop being afraid of things that really are frightening.

I have watched several inspirational movies about authors – one being Charles Dickens, “The Man who Invented Christmas” and “Miss Potter”. These stories helped me to dream a little again. I want to find a way to start writing fiction stories again because that is when I really feel alive and happy. To me, that is the best self-care I can do. But it requires time, something that I don’t have a lot of.

I started the new year with a workout and lunch with an old friend. It was nice to eat in a restaurant (something I don’t do very often) and just gab about life. The one thing I noticed during our conversation was that several times I said, “In life, there is no easy button.” It occurs to me that I wish I had one. Or better yet, a button that says, “Problem solved.” Or maybe I wish I had a beacon to turn on at night like the light that comes on at the checkout when there is a problem with something you are trying to scan. The attendant rushes over and helps almost immediately and fixes the issue. I love that.

I have been reading Psalm 37 over and over. There is one verse in particular that has been helpful. “Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath!
Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil.” (Psalm 37:8) I can attest to the fact that fretting does tend only to evil, but it really is hard to stop.

I’m afraid of work tomorrow. I’m hoping things get easier. They may not. I need to accept the way things are and have courage to change the things I can. I’m not certain of anything anymore and in some respects I’ve lost my confidence. But day by day is all I can do. Sometimes the best courage we can muster is to just get up and keep going. Just show up. So that is what I intend to do. And when I take a break or eat my lunch, I am going to practice living in quiet heart.

Meramec River at Short Bend, Winter, 2023

In every life there comes a season one never expected. One could call it a long, drawn-out storm that wrings the hope and joy out of every area of life. Mine started with grief. A few months ago, my beloved boxer, Annabelle, started losing weight. The vet couldn’t find anything wrong and thus began a series of expensive tests, no answers, and crippling fear that I was going to lose her. Some would say she was just a dog, but she was more than that to me and to our family. We were already dealing with juvenile diabetes, a mysterious stomach ailment and many hard things with school. I was also trying to cope with a very stressful situation at work. I thought I was handling everything with faith and hope and love. And then Annabelle stopped eating.

I know everyone has their limits and I reached the end of mine. I had a friend who was pressuring me to pray more and trust God more. And I was. But I was also terrified and lonely. And I was trying everything we could afford to determine what was wrong with Annabelle. It was one of those, “God, I can handle a lot, but not losing her. Anything but that.”

We finally found a vet that did a x-ray of her chest (why didn’t they start there?!) and found a rash of white spots that was either lymphoma or a terrible fungal infection. Either way, she said there wasn’t much to be done. But even then, I didn’t lose hope. One of our homeopathic doctors gave us a free treatment to try as a last-ditch effort. I was certain it would work because we’ve found so much hope and healing with chiropractic medicine. And then came the day when she just could not eat anything or even keep down the nutritional gel that was sustaining her. She collapsed in the front yard. And I started sobbing. I don’t think I stopped sobbing internally for several days but there was work to be done and meetings to be had and so I delayed that final trip to the vet.

In the middle of that deep loss and grief my stressful work situation exploded to an unreasonable fervor and I fought with one of the last people I ever expected to. And I left the office that day to take my beloved to the vet. To say goodbye. And to try to manage the pain of the others in my household.

For anyone who has ever loved a dog like a child, one will understand. It’s harder for others, though people can empathize if they choose to. This wasn’t my first loss. But first or third or tenth, it’s horrible.

Then I lost my grandpa. This wasn’t totally unexpected but nevertheless, it was awful. Old memories came surging and my emotions were off the chart sad. I felt like everything was dying around me. I completely lost my equilibrium.

As the days turned into weeks things only got worse at work. I knew I wasn’t handling things well, but I could not seem to manage my emotions. And then a confrontation came again with a co-worker, and I cracked. I had a full-on nervous breakdown in the office. I immediately got very sick with an upper respiratory infection. Then my son ended up in the hospital with ketoacidosis.

I suppose that is what provided the most clarity. I have to be well to take care of my son. I do not have the liberty to limp along heart-sick and half-alive. It’s time to take action. This blog entry is my commitment to do what is necessary to heal and rebuild my life.

For the past week I allowed myself to enjoy vacation. I still don’t have a lot of energy, but I cleaned the house, baked the Christmas cookies, and listened to nice classical music that calmed my soul. I took some good walks that really wore me out and even did some strength training. I ate healthy food and got a lot of sleep. I am starting to feel more rational. I am also seeing a counselor to talk through what is happening. Most importantly, I have made a decision to live.

What I mean by that is that I truly had lost all hope of going on. I could not see any joy or gladness in my future. But now I know I need to make changes and facilitate healing. I need to let go of the weight of my grief and start thinking differently. I need to rebuild.

I’m not quite sure where to start. I find myself drawn to a few days of solitude, so I’ll be making a trip to the country. I want to chart out some resolutions and healthy patterns. I also need to make some tradeoffs and changes. I’ve never done this before and it feels…awkward.

I know God is present through all of this, but I’ll be honest, He has felt very far away. I am waiting and trusting with faith that He will deliver me, as the Psalms repeat over and over. I will try to share some of what I discover and resolve here on the blog. I want to continue with my theme of discipline because it is very important to me. I want to be faithful. But grief has a way of knocking the wind out of one. I didn’t expect this. And I know God has a purpose for my life. I just need to find it again.

Today I realized one of the most important things I need to do is to forgive. I need to forgive God for taking Annabelle and my Grandpa. And I need to forgive the people at work for their insensitivity and selfishness (among other things). I need to get back to the mindset that we are all at different stages of our journey and we need to give grace as much as we ask for grace. This too is a discipline. And candidly, I’ve been so filled with pain and bitterness I wasn’t able to do that anymore. I need to let go of all that in order to heal. And it really is hard. I have an axe to grind but it’s time to lay it down.

I find myself saying this prayer a lot lately, so I’ll share this as I end.

I found myself on the couch buried beneath an afghan my friend crocheted for me. From within the warm layers, I rubbed my fluffy slippers together and tried to shake off the chill of the fever that made my bones ache. Worse, the tickle from deep in my bronchial tubes was trickling so that I couldn’t help but cough spasmodically. And when done wracking and choking, I stared at the book shelf and wheezed. What lovely books, I thought. How I wish I could read them. Alas, I was too sick.

Sickness always finds me unprepared and unguarded. It’s strange really, how life is moving along and then, well, everything stops. Time trips over itself. And the minutes become a long tangle of questions, or worse, exclamation points.

What are we if we aren’t producing anything?

My identity is so frequently tied up with the work I do, whether at home or in the office. I crave accomplishment. I need validation. So when I’m stuck on the couch and the only thing I produce is the carbon monoxide from my nostrils when I exhale, I get to feeling, well, rather stale. Who am I?

I don’t generally have a family that dotes on me. The people in my house tend to be wrapped up in their own situations. So when I found myself on the couch with my little grand daughter tending to me, I was rather humbled. As I lay there shivering, she sat in a chair at my side and sang little songs to me that she was making up as she sang. I didn’t understand a word but I felt her love and care. I also felt tears trickling down my cheeks. What made her bend low to sit with her “Grammy”? To talk sweetly, and pet her hand and to sing songs to cheer her? I was really moved by her tenderness. What a gift!

I’ve been going through a rough time lately. I’ve been having panic attacks and many sleepless nights. I’ve been praying the Psalms in all my waking moments and waiting for God to intervene. I remember a pastor saying many years ago that when God doesn’t remove the miserable situation, He sends His comfort. Sometimes comfort takes the form of a little girl with big brown eyes, cherub cheeks and dark frizzy hair. I never imagined I could love someone so much, or be loved in such a pure and unique way.

When the days are difficult, I am thankful for an identity rich in the love of my Heavenly Father and my precious granddaughter. When I struggle to remember who I am, it is a deep comfort to know I am loved.