The Perils of Passing Out in Public

On Monday I fainted.

This wasn't something I could have arranged to do in private, no.  I had to go pass out in front of the sweet people who run the nail shop I go to.  Yes, I was getting my nails done.  Never mind that it wasn't for some dramatic, heroic even reason.  Just sitting there, being pampered, I swooned.

Felt it coming on gradually, more like a bit of a sweat at first, and then kind of woozy, hard to concentrate on the small talk.  And the last thing I remember was saying, "I think I should tell you that I'm not feeling so good."

When I came to moments later, my sweaty head was being cradled and my damp neck and shoulders were being rubbed, and an excited voice was on the phone calling an ambulance.  With considerable effort I pulled myself out of the fog, lifted my head and asked if I could talk to the dispatcher directly.

No need for the ambulance, I politely informed her.  I was fine now.  Just going to get my nails finished and then go home and rest a bit.  But the ambulance was already there, and the nice lady on the phone suggested ever so carefully that maybe I should just let them check me over.

Looking back now, that's when I should have even more politely said no.  But I didn't.  And the paramedics, also very soothing and reassuring, convinced me to just let them hook me up to the heart monitor and take some vitals, just to see what was going on.  And after that, they ever so soothingly and reassuringly somehow convinced me - who was feeling completely fine by then, have I mentioned this? - to actually get on the stretcher and let them take me to the hospital.

After that, there was no turning back.  Long story short I spent the remainder of the day in emergency, feeling completely fine, hooked up to monitors and being poked for blood.  I even peed in a cup.  And all this time I was FEELING PERFECTLY FINE!

Everything came back normal.  Normal.  See?  I'm fine.  But protocol, both medical and legal, now required that the Ministry of Transport be given notice and - take a breath because this is about to get ugly - I now can't drive until I am medically clear to do so!

Whaaaaaaaaat?!!!!!!!

Outside I remained calm.  After all, I was fine.  But inside the little freak who sits at the console in my brain was pushing all the buttons, sounding all the alarms, cranking down on all the levers, yanking all the chains.  Now people, now we have an emergency!

No driving?  You've got to be kidding me!  You don't know my life!  I drive to places at 5 a.m.  I do this by myself because no one else ever wants to go with me where I'm going at 5 a.m.  My routines, my job, my life is dependent on driving.   I love my van.

This isn't going to be okay.

Especially since I'm perfectly fine, if I haven't mentioned that!

The nurse practitioner was kind, professional and quite insistent.  We don't know why you passed out.  Until we know that everything's clear, that this was a one time benign incident, it's not responsible to drive.  It's not safe.

Yeah, I know.  I'm not driving.  I get that.   And I won't.  But.  Really?

So it's been an interesting week already.  Especially since I am determined that this won't involve Ken.  He's got enough driving to do as it is with a lot of other people.  I'm supposed to be the one supporting that aspect of his ministry by running errands and such.  And at the very least, taking care of my own transportation.  So, no.  Not Ken.

There's a plan.  Of course there's a plan.  And I have it all charted out with dates and where I need to get to and who's available in a minimally-inconvenienced way.  I'm not swimming until this is cleared up.  I've cancelled and rearranged appointments.  I'm hitching rides and taking taxis when absolutely necessary.

But I don't like it.

Except.

That van I love?  That license I have?  That independence that I cherish so much.  It's not actually mine.  Oh yeah.

A long time ago, a really long time ago, I started that totally sold out to God thing.  It's a thing that doesn't happen all at once from the beginning.  It's more of a thing that happens daily, experience by experience, opportunity by opportunity.  That thing when you just sit there with your hands open and upward and tell Jesus "Here.  This is all of me.  I'm Yours."

So the van, the license, the independence, I don't own it.  I remember this, and it stops the little freak in my head cold.  Because for some reason I can't fathom,  (and a reason that seems utterly unnecessary to me by the way, because I'm fine!) right now, for at least the next six weeks, God has called those things in and asked me to do without.

And I guess, if I really mean it when I pray those prayers and sing those songs, of surrender and humility and release, then actually, I need to be fine with that.

So my life tip is, don't faint in public.  It just gets really complicated.

And, if you don't mean it, don't tell God He can have all of you.  And if you do mean it, then be fine with whatever happens.

And really, I know this, this is not so many other things it could be, that God sometimes does ask His children to do.  This no-driving assignment, so much less than the cancer-assignment, or the loss-of-spouse assignment, or any number of assignments that are out there.

So, actually, truly....I'm fine.

The Echo

The Happy Farmer

It's the name of a piano piece you played for me on the old upright in the living room, when I was young enough to still know that running around in joyful circles was an amazing way to spend an hour after supper. And I remember being in awe of your magic on the keys as you played.  But then again, you were the 'magic one' who made everything happen, those early, early years.

The Poky Little Puppy

It's the name of a children's story you read to me over and over, your soft voice so familiar, and your face as you read it.  Sometimes I would lose track of the story just for the sake of watching your face, and trying to remember the first time I saw it.  And when I realized that I had never known a moment of my life when I didn't know you, I would marvel in that, contemplating childlike abstractions of the cosmos and how life works.

The Accident

It's how you always referred to the traumatic brain injury you sustained as an almost 13 year old, that last defining day of your grade seven year.  That day dramatically redirected the trajectory of your life in ways only God could redeem.  And He did.   Impossible to speculate, I know.  But if the stories of your personality and capability transformation as a direct result of 'the accident' are true, which I expect they are given it was your own mother who told me, then it's not hard to suggest that had you not been injured, you would have been a very different person in your teen and young adult years.  Those are the years we make significant, life-shaping decisions.  Those are the years you realized you were not able to fulfill your dream for overseas missions.  Those are the years you met Dad.  Those are the years to began your family, me being your first go at mothering.

The Release

That's what I call what happened for you very early in the pre-winter morning of November 19, 2015.  When all that God had asked you to do was done.  When this part, the fleeting part, of your life was over, and you were released into the eternal part; the part where things are as God always intended for His people.  No more pain.  No more confusion.  No more angst.  No more tears.
You were getting restless.  You were talking more and more about 'the release', hoping it wouldn't be too much longer.  And, Mom, I am so glad you got to go home.

The Echo

Sometimes these days, if I'm sitting quietly, I think I can hear The Happy Farmer being played, somewhere off in the distance.  It's as if there is a room in Heaven with an old upright piano.  And you've sat down at the keyboard, and are playing it for me still, inviting me to set aside the grieving, and the other heavy things we carry in this fleeting part of life, and to just run in joyful circles for a little bit.

Because now you know.  Now you can see.  And it's all okay.

Time and Not Time

What day is it?

It's normal over the holidays, but this year it seems exaggerated somehow.  

When normal rhythms are disrupted a day can lose it's 'feel', as is in it doesn't 'feel' like Friday when I get to wake up slow, and settle myself into the family room with a fire on and a cup of tea.  Doesn't feel like Saturday either because Ken is home and not out for his breakfast with 'the guys'.  Doesn't feel like Monday either, because I haven't just had Sunday, and Sunday, normally speaking, is basically the pivot point in every week for me.  I really notice Sundays.

Doesn't feel like the end of Christmas.  Didn't I just put up the decorations?  Didn't I just get out the Christmas CDs?  All the Christmas that happens before Christmas didn't happen for me this year.  Not complaining, not at all.  LOVED where I was instead.  It's just now adding to that sense that time didn't happen in a normal kind of way.

This particular doesn't-feel-like-Friday-or-Saturday-or-Monday-or-the-end-of-Christmas also happens to be the first day of a brand new year.  So there's another question.  What year is it?  And of course I know it's 2016, but somehow it feels like 2015 left in a great big rush, especially the last three months of it, and I'm not sure if I'm quite ready to let it do that.

Haven't fully processed all that happened since September while I was in Thailand.  Don't want to lose the core life lessons any more than I do the newly acquired vocabulary and language skills.

And just now, when I was mapping out the month ahead I did not write down my regular visits to Mom, including the three hour (one way) drive to Peterborough.  This reminds me of two more time related weirdnesses.  One is the delay for me in marking her passing and how even though she left November 19th, only now do I register how my life is different.  The other is accepting the good gift of the redeemed time each month, and considering how to spend it well.

So things linger from last year. 

Not that 2016 isn't welcome.   I LOVE New Years every time.  It is for me another brand new mercy just waiting to reveal itself.  But that it's here so soon?  When did that happen?

And in this not-sure-what-it-feels-like time zone I find myself drawn to the One who lives outside of time anyways.  Like an anchor.  Like a cosmic reference point.

"From everlasting to everlasting, you are God", Moses declares in Psalm 90:2.  And with 40 endless years of desert-wandering leadership as his context, he certainly would understand this time-outside-of-time feeling.  The entire psalm is full of time references, all anchoring back to the God who led him and their people all the way home.  Eventually.

"Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom", he pleads (v 12).  A proper understanding of our mortality is his backdrop, one that helps us arrange and rearrange priorities, set up calendars and goals and life maps and quiet spaces, all so we can exist within this strange element we refer to as Time, but to which God does not answer.

The gentle snowing happening in this right now moment as I write reminds me of another time reference,  Winter.  It's winter now.  And soon enough I will step with eager anticipation into the regular rhythms of my life and the remarkable, humbling thing I get to do with it.  And winter will give way to spring which will give way to fall which will give way to another Christmastime.  In all of that there are challenges ahead, for sure, all of which seem to set themselves up in what was formerly known as 2015, but which I welcome into 2016 with confidence.

Because of the blessing.  Moses' blessing.  And it seems so fitting to begin with this.

May the favour of the LORD our God rest upon us;

establish the work of our hands for us --

yes, establish the work of our hands.

Psalm 90:17

May the work of your hands bring you joy and satisfaction throughout all the moments of this year.
And may they be established, grounded, anchored by the One who is waiting there for you,
Outside of time, but totally ready to engage with you within each day.

Blessings and joy for 2016 everyone.