When I was growing up, there was always one Saturday each summer that I dreaded with everything in me ... corn freezing Saturday. On the appointed day, my dad would rise very early, wake me and tell me to get dressed and get in his truck. We would then travel a little over an hour to a farm where we would spend the next couple of hours picking 30 to 40 dozen ears of sweet corn. Looking back all these years later, I should have treasured that time with Daddy, but as a kid who wanted to do anything except pick corn, I instead whined and complained throughout the whole endeavor.
While the picking of the corn was bad enough to endure, I knew that when we returned home, the day would only get worse as it wore on. The corn then had to be shucked, cleaned, cooked a certain amount of time, some cut off of the cob, and all 30 to 40 dozen ears placed in freezer bags and carried downstairs to the freezer. Trust me ... it was a long day, usually beginning around 5 a.m. and ending around midnight. Daddy always did the shucking outside on the patio, and my niece Sharon and I would carry the corn upstairs into the kitchen. My mom and my sister would wash the corn and pass it back to Sharon and me for a very important part of the preparation process.
Now I need to interject here that my mom had a very real issue when it came to corn silks ... you know, the little stringy things between the kernels that look like a thick thread of silk. It was never enough just to wash the corn under running water or use a brush to lightly scrub away the majority of the silks. Oh, no. Mine and Sharon's job was to take wooden toothpicks and meticulously go between the rows of kernels and remove every last silk, being very careful not to puncture the tender pieces of corn. If there was even a hint of a silk on the ear of corn, Mom would pass it back to us and say, "I want it stripped bare, nothing left ... not even one little piece."
Over the last few months, my life has changed in a big way ... some of the changes have been positive, like losing a bunch of weight and establishing a walking routine. Some changes, however, have been not so much fun and on some fronts, completely unexpected and even unwelcome. And quite honestly, there have been times in the last couple of weeks when I've been pretty frustrated and angry about situations and relationships and health-related events in my life. In fact, I can't remember a time in my life when I have felt that my normally ordered, diligent ... OK, maybe the word is regimented ... life has been so out of my neat and tidy realm of personal control.
Earlier this week, after a particularly wicked blood sugar drop followed rapidly by a soaring blood sugar high, my emotions were running at breakneck speed when a friend called to check on me. My poor friend, bless her heart, got the full force of my loud and angry tirade as I ranted and raved about how much I wanted my life back ... nothing more or less ... I just wanted "me" back. When I finally finished spewing, my friend made a calm and quiet comment that God has used to bring me to my knees multiple times over the last few days.
"Perhaps God is stripping you of everything that you thought you had control over in your life ... stripping you bare, so that you want nothing but Him, so that you realize He is all you need. There was a lot of 'me' and 'I' in what you just said ... a lot of wanting to be back in control, back in charge. Maybe God is stripping you of you to prepare you for something for Him." Wise? Yes. Profound? Yes. Honest? Yes. Hard to hear? Resoundingly yes.
So, God ... here's the deal. I don't like losing control, and I sure don't like asking for help. But, truth is, I think I'm ready for You to use your toothpick, Lord, to clean away every tiny thread that shouldn't be in me ... for You to take away everything I need to let go of. Strip me bare, Lord ... strip me clean, Lord ... come in and fill me up ... leave me wanting nothing but You.
3 comments:
Terrie, I saw something on America's Got Talent that made me think of you. These two little girls got up to sing, and they had cystic fibrosis. Since its a lung condition, doctors have been telling them their whole life they won't be able to sing. Yet there they stood, singing like two little angels with everything they had. And they were damn good. DAMN good.
Now they said something I want you to think about "Our disease does not define us, like the doctors say it will. We define us day by day, and we keep singing."
Sometimes I wonder if you have let your disease begin to define you. If you look over your blogs from the past months, you'll notice that almost every one of them describe the limitations you face from your disease, and how much you dislike your loss of freedom. Many of our daily and nightly conversations vaguely venture past discussion of your health and "disease". I don't think this can be helping you, at all. The more you think of yourself as limited or "defined" by your disease, the more control you give it over your life. Yes it's serious, and you need to take precautions and pay attention. But there's a lot worse stuff out there that can happen to you than getting a crazy case of diabetes, and you should be thanking your stars you have air to breathe and water to drink (SO SHUT UP AND DRINK IT!).
So here's a challenge for you, and I thought of this after many of MY college age friends who have confessed to facebook stalking your blog (some of whom don't even know you) told me they think you need some new subject matter in your blog.
I challenge you to go one week without writing about, or talking about your diabetes, your ups, your downs, your close calls. This doesn't mean I don't care, or I don't want to know you're doing okay. But I think it will get you out of the disease mentality you have settled in. It's not who you are, its just a challenge you face. Just like we all face our own unique challenges. If you need help, call for help, but no more sitting around talking about it constantly like you do and worrying about it like you do (I love you mom, but I know how you do!). It's a challenge Terrie, and I throw down the gauntlet to you out of love, and care. And to prove it, I'll match you. You give me something to live without for the same period of time, you're on.
I think you need to get your mind off of it, and the more it consumes your discussions, the more power it gains in your head. So one week, talking about everything in life that does not deal with Diabetes, and then write a blog about the challenge. It will be good for you, I really think it will. Plus, your audience would enjoy holding you accountable.
Alright, Brad ... you're on. I accept your challenge head-on. Not one mention of it at all for 7 days, not in writing or in speaking or in thinking. I'm darn tired of having to think about it all the time. I'm all for it ... and can we throw in that I can eat whatever I want for that week, too???
And since you threw down the gauntlet first ... no beer, no alcohol of any kind for you for 7 days. In fact, no mind-altering substances of any type for 7 days.
Are we on?
first of all, i hate the silk threads too..but a TOOTHPICK? along every single row? all i can say to that is YOWZA!!!!
brad's comment sort of hit me between the eyes, cuz when we first got q's diagnosis that is where i was. i think its a natural part of the grieving process. :) because when you get a lifelong medical diagnosis, there is a grieving process. life isn't normal anymore and lots of things have changed. it takes a while to wrap your brain around it all, to accept, to adjust. :) it did for us anyway.
i still sometimes have to remind myself to focus on what she can do, not what she can't do. and some days, well, let's just say some days are LOTS harder than others. :O but still, the advice is sound. i have figured out it doesn't do well to dwell on all of the can'ts. that doesn't mean it isn't tempting, but i don't suppose its healhty. ;)
did i win a book? i sent my email!!!! :)
Post a Comment