Blogging from B's attic...could there be anything better?

This has been such an up and down day, a microcosm of the past few weeks...months. I started by struggling to get up after the trauma of last night's overheating. After an hour of fighting that battle, I began to get ready and try and pack for this trip at the same time. However, I was stopped mid-stream by clothing that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

There I was, standing in the closet trying to find something to wear since much of my work outfits were hanging on a drying rack in the basement. I suppose I could have walked down two flights of stairs, walked up one flight, ironed something, and then walked up a second flight, but the thought of such exertion exhausted me. Then my eye lit upon a brown jacket I do not remember ever seeing before. When I separated it from the clothes on either side, I discovered first that it still had a price tag hanging on it and second that a pair of matching slacks was hanging right beside it.

A suite! When did I get a suit? Why have I not worn it yet? After all, yesterday was the most important meeting I have yet to navigate and I was in my tried and true black traveler's outfit from Chico's. I sat down on the bed and struggled to remember how this suit came to be in my closet. A half an hour passed before I remembered the suit was part of the killer purchase I made at the Chico's outlet last May, or there abouts. I had not worn it yet because it was one size down from where I was, but close to where I could be. Plus, it was something like $40.

Tears trickled down my cheeks and splashed on the jacket in my hands. I hate what this disease is doing to me. I am frightened by what I cannot remember, what passes out of my life as if it never happened.

I wore the suit to work, trying (and failing) to take comfort in the fact that the pants fit.

For two and a half days, I have been printing these postcards for an event a work. I learned late this afternoon, I have to redo them all. The person who told me to print them is the one who accused me of doing so without her permission. I have the go ahead in writing, but that doesn't matter. Somehow, I am still in the wrong.

I had hoped to leave early so that I could finish packing and get on the road before my resolve to get to B's house faded beneath the weight of my fatigue and pain. I was hot and bothered before I even began loading the car. Kashi howled the whole time and then darted out the door whilst I was struggling to take two bags outside.

The only reason I caught him is that he is still crippled from his leg injury. [I am very worried about his lack of progress.] Of course, chasing after him resulting in an asthma attack--albeit it a more manageable one--and I had to do a nebulizer treatment. By the time I was set to pull away from the curb, all I could think is that I just cannot do this anymore. I cannot keep asking B to come fetch me, but I cannot half kill myself loading my stuff up and driving such a long distance.

I did take the opportunity to talk with Pastor D about last night. I needed to let him know how ill I was and that part of why I did not make a smarter decision was because I am fearful that my needs make it too much for me to be there. Too much distraction. Too much work. To much focus on such a weak person.

He chided me that I know him better than that. I retorted that the bulk of my life is conditional acceptance. Apart from just a few folks, I have been measured and found wanted in the best of times, an abject anathema at others. He repeated that I know him better.

Never, never outside of Jan Karon's Mitford, have I met a pastor who is more of a Shepperd than this man. He cares for people. He changes/adds to his ministry outreach. He loves. He teaches. He gives what little coin he has. His is a life of daily sacrifice to pour out the grace and mercy and love of Christ into the lives of those around him.

His three bible studies, one book club, and one nursing home service are all a testament of someone who is shepherding his flock. And I do not even "belong" to his church.

He always says he does not have the answers, although he always manages to bring the circumstances in my life, in my heart back around to the bible, to the lives and hearts of those who walked with God before me.

He always says he does not have the answer, but then he adds in some practical bit of advice or brings up a suggestion for something I mentioned eons ago or moments past. Tonight, it was that his daughter likes watching ABC's Extreme Home Makeover and he remembered there was a girl on the show who had trouble regulating her temperature and wore a cooling vest when she had to go some place where she was unsure would have air-conditioning--sound familiar?

He thought that I might benefit from something like that, and I told him I would try to remember to Google it tomorrow. Well, when I logged on to write here, I discovered an email waiting for me with a link to the vest. I am well-loved by my Lord and Savior, am I not?

Despite the pain in my back from driving, I am glad that I am here. This time, I carried nary a bag inside and only lugged my computer backpack up to the attic. [Can someone tell me why it is so heavy???] G started up to bed more than an hour than he actually arrived there because we got to talking about a business venture he would like to make. We sat at the kitchen table for a long while talking over the due diligence steps he needs to take. Sitting there, I marveled anew, deep inside, that God would gift me the refuge I have in B and G's home.

Before I headed up here, I peeked into E's bedroom to greet her. One step inside and she popped awake, a huge smile spreading across her face. She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me an E hug--I am sorry for those of you who have never received one--then told me some story about Mom Mom and a necklace that I only half understand. We chatted a bit about the things we might do together while I am here, then she gave me another hug before falling back to sleep.

So, here I am, lying in bed with Fancy nearby and Kashi curled up at my side. The fan is blowing directly on me, my medication is beginning to take hold, and the pillow is calling me. Suits and postcards and pain can wait until the morrow.

For this moment I shall savor the blessings I have and eschew all fears and concerns and longings.

What is it that Pastor D said a while ago...my life is worth the life of the Son of God. My life. The blurred vision. The fatigue. The pain. The inability to tolerate heat. The fainting. The asthma. The congnitive dysfunction. All of it. Every bit is worth the life of the Son of God, that I might have life eternal...that He might be glorified. I may stumble and stutter my way through all of this, but I do revel the fact that I belong to a sovereign God, who understands my needs and designs the path before me according to His perfect plan. Just because I wish for that path to be easier, does not make it any less perfect.

Patience is the constant lesson.

May I learn to be a better student...

Selah.