No Comparisons

My brother said to me the other day, “I never want to grow old. So many awful things can happen.” I’ve always been a proponent for aging. I’ve loved the idea of having my hair change from brown to grey, of growing in wisdom, and of having more years under my belt. Certainly, though, my brother does have a valid point.

It seemed that right before we moved, my hair started to turn. Consequently, I now see silvery streaks sprouting all over my head, as if I have sprinkled seeds in the morning and water them in the shower. I notice more of them each day. Some are quirky, too, like tiny, untamable lightning bolts. I say to S, “I’m not sure, hon. I might cave and color it!” He still encourages me to let it come and enjoy it. What a treasure he is! We’ll see what we both think in a few months. LOL.

I also learned another lesson about aging three weeks ago when I dislocated my back. I’ve never done this before, but I knew immediately that something was wrong, when intense pain struck my lower back, pushing me right down to the floor. I should have taken more time to rest, but I didn’t realize it wasn’t just a muscle issue—it was actually dislocated. It’s extremely humbling to realize how much physical pain can alter my perspective in almost every area.

I’m reminded how much joy I find in mobility. In walking down the stairs, picking up the jogging stroller, and placing my little tot inside. In spinning her round and round, lifting her when she gets frightened by loud noises in a store, making her fly like a busy, buzzy bee. As I left my class tonight, I walked to the car with a whimpering lip. I’d been holding my tears in way too long. I just needed to let it all out. I readily admit two things: I love routine and I love serving my family. I can’t help but cry that in S’s busiest season of work, he must overcompensate for me. I feel so helpless.

It’s as if I’m looking at the washing machine and vacuum as friends that I haven’t seen in a while. I know, this may sound so funny, but I find great joy in being useful, using my hands, and serving my family. I love our new apartment and love seeing it shine in every way. I’m sad that I am spending all my time on the couch. It’s very hard for me.

But, the hardest part, beyond the weight it places on S, is missing this element with my girl. I don’t want to be concerned about pulling my back out when I pick her up. I miss each second.

I remember our pastor sharing a few weeks ago that we should not compare our trials. So, I won’t go on to say how someone else has it worse or better than me. But, I can assure you, I am challenged all the more to trust His sovereignty, rather than just blame myself for trying to move a dresser and bed by myself. He is in control. He is about a good work. I’ve seen some of that already, in how He’s made me available to others, given me time to rest, read, learn, and reflect. I guess my issue is being patient and being ok with being limited. He’s still in control. He doesn’t really need me to accomplish it all. And, it’s ok if His to-do list is different from mine.

I want to learn what it means to be patient and enduring, because I know He impresses such things on my heart. His Word assures me so in places like Romans and James. And, I trust His hand, as much as sometimes I don’t prefer the situations. I’m challenged to rest, trust He’s in control, even of my family. It’s not all centered in what I can do. He is far greater than my ability to mop the floor or even than the joy of spinning my girl.

So, the greys, I’ll take them. The pain, I’ll open my hands and accept. Because I know it comes from Him. The patience and endurance leads me to the wisdom, to the crown of silver. And, as much as I think I’m close when I look in the mirror, I really do have a long way to go.