It Could Be Worse

As I prepare for knee surgery tomorrow, I am tempted to become agitated with the failings of our medical care here in America.

Because my doctor forgot to do an EKG on me during my pre-operative physical, I had to drive 90 minutes for a 3-minute test. With my knee in a brace. Leaning on a cane. Praying for relief from the pain.

I purchased post-operative pain killers at the pharmacy and discovered after I got home that the surgeon had prescribed something that I'm allergic to. I can't return the prescription drugs for a refund, and my insurance company has already been billed for their share.

Today, I must remind myself that it could be worse. At least I have health care. Many people in both third world countries and developed nations suffer with painful joints, poor eyesight, and countless diseases until they die. They have no hope for someone like my surgeon to cure them, either because it is unavailable or unaffordable.

I was once in Venezuela and watched a man collapse at my feet from an apparent heart attack. I couldn't speak Spanish, and shouting at passersby for help did no good. No one knew how to perform CPR. The inept ambulance drivers who sauntered upon the scene an hour later had no equipment for reviving him. Of course, the poor man died.

To make matters worse, there was no chaplain or minister to comfort this man's widow. I sat with her in a hotel room through the night, trying to console her. I have never felt so completely ill-equipped to deal with a crisis.

As I prepare for surgery in the morning, I have done everything in my power to make sure that things are taken care of for my husband. The laundry has been put away, the sheets have been changed, the bills have been paid for the next two weeks, and I've arranged for friends to drop by and help me. I even updated my will and wrote out directions for my funeral, just in case I don't come through the surgery as planned.

Setbacks such as a knee injury and surgery are annoyances we would all like to avoid. But as I get ready for this, I realize that God uses these challenges to show us that we are not in control of everything. He is.

For the past few days, I've been considering what I would say if I met Jesus tomorrow. Would I be able to tell him that I did everything he wanted me to do while I was here? Or would I hang my head in shame, knowing that I failed to listen to his directives?

I doubt that Jesus cares whether I have left behind clean sheets on my bed. Or that I have written out a menu for meals to be prepared while I am out of commission.

I'm sure that the Lord does care about the lives I have touched and the love I have shared with others. After all, haven't we been sent to earth to share his love? I have tried to be patient and kind; to forgive others when they have hurt me; to love everyone unconditionally; and to pray for my friends, as well as my enemies. As often as possible, I have given God the glory for my successes.

And at the same time, I realize how often I have failed God. I have behaved selfishly, held onto bitterness over old offenses, judged others who are different, and ignored my prayers. Worst of all, I have frequently taken the credit for something only God could have done.

I realize that in the end, no matter how kind I've been or how patient, if I don't know Jesus Christ as my Savior, I will be lost. I thank God for covering up my sins with the blood of Christ so that I can enjoy freedom from annoyances such as EKGs, allergic reactions, and pain when I get to Heaven.

Yes, things could be far worse. I could live with this knee pain forever, except for the excellent health care we have here in our country. I could spend eternity in hell without hope, if it weren't for the love and sacrifice of Jesus.

I am grateful that God uses all things--even the annoyances--for good in the lives of those who love him. He rattles us so that we are forced to look to him in faith, trusting completely that he will provide whatever he thinks is best.

"Faith like Job's cannot be shaken because it is the result of having been shaken." --Abraham Heschel

Who Cares?

I've got 22 days left to make sure that my wedding gift to my daughter brings squeals of delight, I look svelte at the ceremony, my house warrants a cover story in Architectural Digest, and my yard holds up to the standards of Better Homes and Gardens. So, I'm sewing a gift and a wedding dress, building window treatments, and pulling weeds today, all while lifting barbells to the count of an exercise coach barking orders at me from a video. What's on your to-do list?

Actually, that was the way I used to live. Perfectionism was a way of life for me. But then God turned it all around by giving me MS. It's hard to have buns of steel when the best you can do with your legs is a slow shuffle to the bathroom behind a walker. Paralyzing me was God's way of giving me a very different perspective. No, I'm not talking about the nail pops on my bedroom ceiling. It taught me that some things are really unimportant, like having the perfect house, the trimmest body, or the most beautiful lawn in the neighborhood.

Getting sidelined by an erratic, unpredictable disease taught me what is important: the love of my husband, great relationships with my kids, friendships with deeply spiritual people, and service to others with even greater needs than my own.

Perfectionism makes us tense. We clench our teeth and breathe in short little gasps throughout the day. We make to-do lists that ten people couldn't accomplish in a week, and berate ourselves for not completing every item in one day. We lie awake at night, tossing and turning until our sheets are tied in knots. We wonder how we will ever accomplish all that we have mandated for ourselves tomorrow. When the alarm goes off, we dread what lies ahead: another day filled with drudgery that we unwittingly designed for ourselves.

This is not how God wants us to spend our days. He wants us to experience joy in unexpected delights, such as the cardinal on the back porch blinking a tiny eye at us during breakfast; the sun glinting off the lake during our noon walk; or the miracle of a breath-taking rose bush showing off bright pink blooms. We can't enjoy these moments if we are rushing, rushing, rushing to get everything done on that list we've written for ourselves.

I've learned the most important phrases in the English language: So what? It doesn't matter! and Who cares? We were sent here to please God, not to impress our neighbors.

If perfectionism is driving you, take time today to figure out why you feel so compelled to be perfect. Are you subconsciously trying to please an overly critical parent? Trying to get the attention of someone important? Feeling so inadequate that perfectionism is the only way you can feel good anymore?

I challenge you to cast aside one perfectionistic trait today. Perhaps you'll warrant a comment from a neighbor like I once heard from mine: "Someday, I hope to care so little about my lawn that it looks as awful as yours." Now that's the kind of praise I can glow over. Because with comments like that, I know I've arrived at a point of caring little for what people think about me and concentrating more on how pleasing I am in God's sight.