Update:
Christmas Eve was busy for me preparing for the Candlelight Service
& then leading it. We now have a
ramp in the sanctuary so that I can get up on the platform with assistance in
my wheelchair. We had a good turnout for
the service despite the weather. My wife
said she thought it was the best Christmas Eve service we have ever had. I was pleased being able to lead the service
and preach again; although I needed some extra naps to make it through. With the Lord’s help, assistance from my
family, and my adrenaline kicking in, I made it just fine.
Karen and I had a quiet Christmas Day.
We didn’t do too much. I should that
I didn’t do too much. My wife did my
laundry and did a lot all day to care for me.
We watched a few episodes of Stargate together. I purchased ebooks for my Kindle (bible
commentaries and inspirational literature) and did a little reading. Some of our children who didn’t have other
obligations spent the afternoon with us.
I got whooped playing Scrabble. I
had some good words; but few points. It
was a nice, restful day.
It is very relaxing to take the leg brace off for several hours each
day. Seeing my residual limb (stump)
seems pretty natural to me now—although my kids said that it still isn’t
“ordinary” for them. We’ll get there
eventually.
Our family will celebrate Christmas together on Saturday evening when
the entire family can gather together.
Since the drama of my life hogged Thanksgiving, we wanted our married
children to have the opportunity to spend Christmas with their spouse’s family
and we’d work around their schedules.
I finally figured out how to close the door to the bathroom with me
inside by tying a long cord onto the doorknob. I grab it as I roll by and can
pull the door to. It provides me a
little privacy.
On Thursday, my wife went back to work, so we were up at 4:30 a.m. I had stayed up late chatting with Ruth and
Cody and then read a novel in bed with my Kindle. That’s the first time I’ve done any
recreational reading since early November. It’s nice having my daughter and son-in-law
staying with us while they’re in town. I
enjoy spending time with them and I’m not alone all day. Later today or tomorrow, we’ll spend a couple
hours cleaning up the candles from the candlelight service.
I got a get well card that called me a “Tough Cookie”. It had a definition on the front of the
card.
Tough Cookie: 1) Someone
with just the right mix of sweetness and strength. 2) One who doesn’t crumble under
pressure. 3) A fighter who’s too busy
kicking butt to sit down and cry, but knows it is okay to do both. 4) A person who doesn’t always ask for
support, but has lots of friends who would do anything to help.
I am grateful that most of that definition truly applies to me (not
certain about sweetness). I’ll try to
live up to the parts of the definition that I feel I am still lacking in. I do recognize that it is okay to cry and
I’ve been doing that regularly. I’ve
suffered a great loss and so it is natural and necessary for me to grieve at
times. Occasionally I have a short cry because
I am momentarily overwhelmed with the new reality of my life; but frequently I
cry about an act of kindness or generosity that someone displayed towards
me. I cry when I think of all the little
children at church who are praying for me and giving me pictures that they
drew. I cry with joy when someone tells
me that I encouraged them. I cry with
hope for a day when I will rise up and walk out of the house again. I cry with trust and faith in God’s
involvement in my life. Oh, yeah! I got the crying part down.
Thought for the Day:
Here is a powerful quote from a book (John Maxwell’s The Difference
Maker) that I am reading,
“Enlightenment writer and philosopher Voltaire likened life to a game
of cards. Players must accept the cards
dealt to them. However, once they have
those cards in hand, they alone choose how they will play them. They decide what risks and actions to take.”
Oh, I like that! It helps me
make sense of my life. I would never ask
for this hand to be dealt to me, but if I am going to play the game of life, I
won’t always like the hands of cards dealt to me. So what can I do? I play the hand dealt to me as skillfully as
I can. I make the best of a bad hand. I assert whatever amount of control that I
can muster and then learn to roll with the punches on the things that I cannot
change.
During high school, I worked full-time during the summer as a janitor
at a private high school. At lunch time,
all the janitors from the high school and the connected college would eat
together and play spades. We’d keep
points and on Friday, the losers would have to buy a gallon of A&W Root
Beer for us to share at lunch. This was
the beginning of my gambling addiction…just kidding!!! I wasn’t the best card player but I learned
that even if you couldn’t win the round, you could influence the outcome of the
round and the game by the way you played your cards. Learning to read the cards and knowing how to
bet was as important as playing the hand itself. Sometimes, the round didn’t progress the way
I had envisioned and I had to improvise and adjust my strategy according to the
current conditions. I learned that even
if I couldn’t win the hand, it was important to help my partner win it. If he won, I won too!
As I consider my life as a game of cards, I can see a number of
similarities. I didn’t choose amputation—but
it is the one of the cards that I was dealt.
As bad as that is, I also was dealt a number of good cards—strong support
from family, church, and friends; a good prognosis for an active life; and robust
faith and confidence in God. Etc. Now
looking at my cards, I realize that the hand life dealt me isn’t all bad and it’s
not all good either. So am I going to
give up and fold—just withdraw from life and give up? No! I
am going to play! I’m aware that I got
stuck with a bad card; but I am going to play my entire hand and try to
minimize the damage. I am always aware
of my amputation and the changes it has placed on me; but I choose to refuse to
let that one card control the rest of my life.
There is so much more to me than having two feet and being able to
walk.
Now that I’ve got you started, you probably can think of a lot more
parallels between life and a hand of cards.
I think that one of the ways that we deal with catastrophic events is
for us to somehow wrap our minds around the event. To take the unimaginable and figure out how
to have it make sense in a way we can handle.
We cannot change the event or the disaster, but we help manage the
damage by evaluating the limits of what has happened and figuring out as many “go
arounds” as we can. I cannot grab an
item out of reach. I can wait and get
someone to grab it for me. I could call
a neighbor and have them come over and grab it for me. Later I can have the cabinet or refrigerator rearranged
so I can grab it easily the next time. I
can get my “grabber” and extend my reach to enable me to get an item. I can figure out if there is a substitute
item that would work or if I can do without it.
I have lots of options. I just
have to look at the cards and decide how I am going to play this hand.
And what about you? If you are
human, I know that some of the cards life has dealt you are not all trump
cards. You have some stinking losers
mixed into your hand. So what are your
options? How can you skillfully play the
cards you have so as to minimize the damage?
I think it helps not to focus all of your attention on the one or two
bad cards when you have a number of other good cards in your hand. Remember, you may not have chosen this hand;
but it is the hand you were dealt. You get to choose how you are going to play
your cards. So get your head in the game
and play! You haven’t lost everything
unless you give up after seeing your cards.
You never exactly know how the hand will turn out until it’s been played. Until that point, life is full of possibilities. I choose to play the game and to win as often
as I can. I am going to fail at
times. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll break
even or perhaps get a little bit a head.
I might lose it all on occasion. But
as long as I keep playing, I’ve got a chance to win. I’ll take those odds. What about you?
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