anger
Flipping an omelet was a simple task. Turning from side to side in the bed was once a thoughtless maneuver. Putting on pants while standing was second nature and required no thought or attention. Hopping from the chair to attend to a recalled task was a snap. Flicking a light switch was accomplished with lightening speed. Turning quickly because you remembered something in the other direction required no attention to the process of turning around. “Past” is the tense in each of the previous statements. So many things this “whipper-snapper” took for granted have become the thief demanding attention where no attention was before required. This stranger called Parkinson’s disease has decided to take up residence. His presence is unwelcome and he was uninvited. His intrusiveness is fuel for my anger at times and a reminder of my grief at what has been lost. I reflect on life before his invasion and though saddened at times by loss I cannot help but be thankful that those years of freedom were given. Today the struggle is not as much with the resistance to movement or the slowness to respond to my every whim, but rather with the integration of what is today, with the memory of what used to be. Each day now becomes a new opportunity to exercise what remains. Placing grief at the feet of thankfulness helps create a path forward with the legs of gratitude.
Hard work, planning and preparation had been the cornerstone of the move from the corporate world to private consulting and then the call to Pastor. The house was in order. Suddenly, without a hint of warning, the thief burst through the thoughtfully planned barrier. Not only did he steal flexibility and nimbleness, he has made his home in this place called me. This unintentional host is not at all happy at the intruder’s presence. Today he seems to be reminding me of his presence at every turn. I detest his assertions and want to throw heartfelt curses his way for his challenging my buttoning ability and for the agony of walking he has unloaded in this unintentional host. My anger flared this morning at this thief and I wanted to pound him squarely out of my life. Then, as suddenly as my anger flared, my rational self whispered; “if you give in to the anger, the thief wins by robbing you of peace.” The scripture from 1 Thessalonians 5 that instructs us to “give thanks in all things” came to mind. I have not yet been able to truly give thanks for PD (I’m not sure I need to do so) and its brash interruption of my agenda, but I have grown to be thankful for opportunities to be more empathic, to grow in patience, and for still having a mind that embraces a semblance of rational promptings. Anger is a part of the grieving process and I experience its presence periodically. It is grace that brings me back to the place of thankfulness that God’s presence is sufficient. Living in this place of grace far outweighs the paltry crop of anger that tries to camp out just beside the fire of faith.
It was the bottom of the third inning in the Human Resources versus the Finance Departments Spring softball game. It was my turn at bat for HR with the score five to three in favor of Finance. I stepped to the plate as the CFO positioned himself as Catcher. I was poised to drive our first home run with the bases loaded, putting us firmly in the lead. The pitcher adeptly threw the softball to pass directly over the plate in front of me as I put my whole strength behind the swing. The bat had hardly moved when I felt a piercing pain at the instant the Catcher and I heard the pronounced crack. I hit the ground in agony, grabbing my right foot that was already beginning to swell. Not only did I not accomplish the intended home run, but the subsequent trip to the emergency room resulted in us being delayed over three hours for our family motor home trip to Kings Dominion. Pride and determined anger over the painful inconvenience of a broken foot drove my insistence on not altering our weekend plans. I struggled to “have fun” through the pain and discomfort only to find that healing must have its way if it is to be successful. It did not accomplish its objective, however, as I consistently interrupted its journey to full recovery. Eighteen years later the “nerve entrapment” that resulted from the interrupted healing process takes its toll in my daily walk. Pride and anger over inconvenience have mostly vacated the premises. There is room now for hope and thankfulness that allows targeted exercise and persistent movement that have paved the road toward slowing the degenerative path of the neurological beast. Attending to one’s needs carries greater healing value than succumbing to the pride and anger of a momentary determination to have one’s way. Consequences come in many varieties! Experience has taught which ones are wise.