Accepting my Limitations

Without a doubt, spring has arrived here in our part of the world. Having been in such a drought, nobody had the need to mow their yard. But the good Lord has blessed us with much needed rains, and suddenly I am hearing the sounds of lawnmowers everywhere. I don't have to look far as my husband is outside, buzzing all over the place with our big lawnmower that he bought for me, all the while knowing that mowing was something I had to give up. It has not been easy, and each time I hear our mower, there is a rise inside me as I feel anger about not being able to be outside with my husband, him on our old mower and me on the new one, almost chasing each other around our farm.

I suppose you could say this change has been equally hard for both of us. He knows how much I loved doing physical labor, and he would begin mentioning the idea of his mowing days ahead before he actually would start. His loving me so much and wanting to spare me from the reminder and yet also probably thinking inside, "Gee, I wish she could handle this a bit easier," all the while seeing the grass getting taller by the moment!

So today as I sat at my computer, suddenly there was the sound of him mowing and for a second the old emotions began to rise. But I decided "it's time to act like a big girl" and opened my curtains so I could see him whizzing around the trees, mowing to his heart's content and not having to be so worried as to my accepting the limitations that are with me forever. Yes, some might be thinking, "Wow, it's just lawn mowing." But oh, my, it was so much more to me because it took me back to the days of working beside my Dad, bringing wonderful memories to the surface. Yet he, too, found himself ripped of all his strength, having suffered a stroke and then slowly dying from COPD, still smoking up to the end of his life. One day, I went to see him at the Assisted Living Center, a place named "Grace House," and it truly was filled with grace. There were only sixteen rooms, and it was as close to a home away from home as one could hope to find. Daddy lay there, his mind so far away as I gave him a gentle hug. When I asked how he was doing, "Well, Sister, this is one Hell of a way to die, but sometimes we just have to Accept things!"

There it was, him telling me about Acceptance, having to let go of so many things that had helped make him one very strong man. My heart ached that day, but I listened and just let him talk. It felt like he was making peace with having to be confined to that bed. He could still get in a motorized wheelchair. But before long, that, too, had to be taken from him. It seemed that Daddy only knew One Speed on the machine, and it was FAST. Each time he left his room, he flipped the switch to go roaring down the hallways, his arm would get caught in the railing and with being Diabetic, he began having severe problems with healing. I had to be the one to tell him the machine had to go. Strange–he must have already sensed it because when I entered his room to take away his last ability of being mobile. He took a long look at me and said, "Well, they sent the Big Gun over to take away my machine!" I sat down and answered a sad, "Yes, Daddy." Then he told me "take it away, and make sure it helps somebody else!" Acceptance with no fight, and now those memories are still with me to draw on as I fight my way through Acceptance, admitting my Limitations and not being angry about it.

This day ended on a wonderful note as I went outside, tried to pull some weeds and realized, "Now did you just have injections a few days ago?" I sat down at our patio and suddenly here came the familiar roar of my husband as he saw me, instantly stopping the mower, preparing himself to hear me complain about all the things I couldn't do anymore. Instead, I gave him a big hug and suggested we sit down together to share a glass of tea. His relief was obvious! Without question, it is a wicked journey for the one who must suffer the physical pain. But it's also be a tough burden for our loved ones who must sit by, feeling helpless as they see the wicked battle of Chronic Pain being inflicted on their loved one.

Yes, I  made some good "baby steps" today and knowing myself, there will still be days of struggle ahead. But I am learning to Accept the Letting Go Process and Cherish all that I have been blessed with–the love of my dear husband and wonderful Friends. All this is possible only by the Grace of God, showing me the way.