When Mr. Steady Met Nurse Ratched

A few weeks ago I drove my husband to the emergency room. We didn’t leave the hospital for two and a half days. A few days later we went back for surgery. One moment he was fine, the next he was anything but fine.

My man has always been my rock. He is Mr. Steady. The truest friend. Old reliable. I’m the needy one in our relationship. He has stuck by me through major depression, chronic health issues, pms that would scare a badger, surgeries, and morning sickness that lasted 9 months–twice. On the rare occasion he manages to get sick I have to dig really deep to find enough compassion to nurture him. If he’s lucky he might get 24 hours to moan and groan about whatever ails him. After that I turn into Nurse Ratched. SUCK IT UP, BUDDY! GET OVER IT! He is one lucky man.

It turns out that Mr. Steady isn’t quite as invincible as I thought he was. A severe injury has left him pretty beat up and needy. The bruises are fading and the incision is healing, but we are a long way from being back to normal.

I wish I could tell you that I’ve been the perfect wife and nurse and that he’s been the perfect husband and patient, but this isn’t a Hallmark Channel movie. The truth is that this has left us both vulnerable and exposed to pain and I’m sure we have both responded in ways that would be better suited for an R rated war movie.

In all of those times I needed him to be my rock I don’t think it ever ocurred to me that my pain wasn’t just happening to me, it was happening to him too. Dang. Realizing that doesn’t automatically make me a better wife and nurse, but it sure does humble me in areas that are in need of some fresh humility. Dang.

I wish there was a magic pill we could take to make all of this go away overnight, but there isn’t. We are in this for the long haul. For better or for worse, we are in this together.

Your prayers have meant the world to us. Thank you.

Thanks for stopping by.

It’s Time to Grow

It’s been about a month since I quit a job I loved so that I could focus more on writing and put some order back into my not so orderly home. So far I am a complete failure at both of those things. Awesome.

I thought when I woke up the morning after my last day of work my mind would burst at the seams with enough creativity and wisdom to fill a best seller. That didn’t happen so I freaked out a bit because good grief, I QUIT MY JOB! And I loved my job! I quit my job to be a blob! Freaked. Exhaustion did not factor into my creative plan. I began to question everything and seriously considered changing my name, dying my hair black, and starting over as a waitress in Indiana. I told you I freaked out.

Decision making is not something I do very well. This is one of the many reasons why I don’t manage a Fortune 500 company. I’m also a highly intuitive feeler and lack the killer instinct. I love to encourage and support leaders with vision. It’s probably one of the reasons I’ve been a good assistant something in nearly every job I’ve ever had. A side-kick doesn’t usually carry the weight of decision making responsibility and I am usually perfectly content with that. So when I finally do get around to making some kind of monumental decision you can be sure I have prayed for nearly a year, lost sleep, eaten a pan of brownies, and cried buckets of tears over it. And it had better prove to be a really good decision with flawless outcomes or I’m going to beat myself with a mental baseball bat for rest of my pitiful life. Dang, this month has been painful.

I’ve been reading “The Best Yes –Making Wise Decisions in the Midst of Endless Demands” by Lysa TerKeurst. Have you ever read a book where you stumble upon an entire chapter written about you? This is one of those books. Her wise words about “Analysis Paralysis” offer some perspective and a whole lot of hope: “The fear of making a wrong decision shouldn’t strip the faith right out of our faith. The only way our faith will ever strengthen is for us to use it. We need to apply thought and prayer to our decisions and then trust God for the outcome. We need to set our sights on growing in faith, not shrinking back for fear of failure.”

So that’s about enough of the mental beating. I’m tired of agonizing over what my first blog post should be, and whether it will be good enough for anyone to read, or whether anyone will read it other than my mother. It’s time to get on with it.

Right or wrong, it’s time to grow.

P.S. Thanks for stopping by, Mom.

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