Rogue in the House

My children loved the X-Men movies, especially my two sons Matt and Brad. We saw each one of the films in the theater, and like The Lord of the Rings trilogy or the Batman films, my kiddos waited with great anticipation for each X-Men flick to hit the big screen. While many of the characters were fascinating ... I especially liked Wolverine ... one in particular has been on my mind for the last few days (probably because I watched an X-Men marathon on TV a week or so ago). Rogue is the character portrayed by Anna Paquin ... a young runaway whose mutant power is a true curse that has caused her great pain and hurt throughout her life. I'll spare you the lengthy description, but whenever Rogue touches another person, she absorbs their life force and leaves them near death. Because the transfer of life force requires skin to skin contact, Rogue wears gloves to ensure that she doesn't hurt those she loves by accidentally touching them. Each time I watch the movie, I always feel sorry for Rogue, and I always wonder why the author chose that particular name for her character ... one of the meanings of the word rogue is "one who behaves in a manner that is considered to be outside the expected norms, often exhibited through isolation and risk-taking behavior." Hmmm ... very interesting.

Last week, my doctor called me a rogue ... she didn't use that specific word, but the more I've thought about what she said, she might as well have handed me a T-shirt with the words, "I Am a Rogue" emblazoned across the front. She talked about the isolation that accompanies depression and about the ongoing battle that seems to have taken up residence within me now ... the fight to make myself leave my house or interact with other people. But what she was totally focused on was what she termed my "risky" behavior ... not checking my blood sugar levels as I should, walking or riding my bike in the dark, not telling anyone the route I take or when I walk or ride, along with a few others that I'm not willing to share in a blog post for the whole world to read. We wrangled back and forth about ... in her words ... my lack of concern for my own well-being or safety. She listed several actions that she would like for me to agree to perform, and the one that I agreed to was to email someone and tell that person in detail my routes and times for my outdoor activities. The good doctor asked that it be someone who lived close to me who could come to my aid should I have an accident or get injured or sick, someone who knows the area well enough to be able to find me. My first response was, "I have my phone with me most of the time ... I can just call for help if I need it and tell someone where I am." And her reply? "Unless you are disoriented and can't give the person correct directions. If they know your route ahead of time, they could find you easier and quicker." So ... it took me a week to decide to honor her request, and yesterday I emailed a friend with all the information the doctor asked me to provide. I even complied with her request that I ask for a reply from the person so that I could print the email and bring it to my next appointment to prove that I did my homework.

A few weeks ago, a friend confronted me about my rebellious attitude toward my doctors, toward taking my medication, even toward God. The more I thought about my doctor's request over the last week, the more I thought about what my friend said. And the more I thought about what both of them said, the more I thought about the meaning of the word rogue ... and the more I realized that both the doctor and my friend are ... right. After dinner this evening, I hopped on my bike to go for a ride in the beautiful cool evening air. As I rode deep into the woods, I must admit that I thought more about the fact that I was alone on a very deserted trail ... and the doctor's use of the word "risky" even popped into my head. And when I stopped to take a drink and grab some lip balm out of my backpack, God smacked me right between the eyes with the lesson He had for me about being obedient and submissive ... honoring my doctor's request and caving in and sending the email to my friend was about way more than the routes I walk or ride or the times I go ... way, way more. I can't believe I never noticed it before, but I surely noticed it tonight ... my biking backpack is a Camelbak ... a Camelbak Rogue. 

OK, Lord ... You got my attention this time in a big way ... a really big way.