I need help.

I need the people in my life to slap the cookie out of my hand and spill my drink, especially if the latter is juice at any other time than when I need to correct my blood sugar or it is serving as dessert.

I broke my fast tonight at the "feast" I brought to bible study.  Epiphany is a feast and I was actually going to be in church on a bonafide church holiday, so I brought coffee (ugh!), orange juice, and tasty pastries.

Pastor provided the Lord Supper for us because I accepted an ofter that I think was not quite still valid since I was in church on Sunday.  I was ignoring that point.  He provided the Lord's Supper and then I provided some refreshments for the bible study portion of our evening.

[3 questions.  I know you were wondering.  Just 3.  Less than 1/2 the page of the bible study book.] 

After the Lord's Supper, I finally broke my fast and chowed down with glee on...perhaps...two pastries and a glass of juice.  I know.  I know I cannot tolerate sugar on an empty stomach.  Still, it all tasted so good!  I should have bought my favorite salad to eat and joined in on the feast that way.

Thought I fought it tooth and nail, I threw up after I arrived back home.

I know...I trust...that Pastor tells me that once taken in, I still have the body and blood of Christ with me though the bread and wine may leave.  Still, it grieves me mightily to throw up the Lord's Supper.  And I have only myself to blame.

I need help.  I need help making good decisions.  I have no business, absolutely none eating sugar by itself, much less after fasting.  None.  I need help.

Bettina, bless her heart, is very good in this area and were she here I would have that help.  One of the things that has come to be in my life is that I cannot have my head below my heart.  I bend over and I will most likely keel over.  I bend over and disaster strikes.

When I drop something, to be safe, I should lay down on the floor and then reach out my arm to grasp it.  When I am not alone, I look very silly doing so.  But when I am with Becky all I have to do is either wait for her to pick it up or mention that I dropped something so that she can retrieve it for me.  If she sees me bend over, she admonishes me heartily.  Don't do that!

MS has also made me quite frail in the car.  No, I am not talking about the pain I have when sitting for a while.  I mean that MS has made my stomach very, very, very weak in the car.  I must look out the window most of the time to maintain a clean environment.  If I am in the car with Bettina and she needs something or the children ask for something and I turn around to address it, she admonishes me heartily.  Don't do that!

Bettina and her Lovely Groom G-Man do not mind that when I am with them I need to be in the front passanger seat.  Driving is best, but driving is taxing.  So, when I am with them, they always drive me about.  I do not feel as if I am making things more difficult for them or as if I am being selfish.  It is just where I need to be in a car.

Bettina does not mind retrieving things for me when the fall or even fetching something from the other room or across the room or at the end of the couch.  Never does she make me feels as if I am a bother or if I am being selfish and lazy for not bending over and picking up the thing myself   She understands that I need help.  She understands that it is difficult for me to ask for such. 

I need help. I need someone to do so whenever plates of goodies are before me and I am not alone.  I need someone to admonish me heartily:  Don't do that! 

That I did.  That I did.  Twice actually...if you count the cookie and the muffin top....

I need help.

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Being a Lutheran now, I get 12 days of Christmas (let's ignore for a moment I found it to be 12 days of more misery than joy) and planned to bring the gifts for my co-workers on the 12th day so that I could mark the day as one might the first.  When I mentioned my plan to one of my co-workers, Eastern Greek Orthodox, she suggested I wait one more day and bring them on what they see as the 13th day of Christmas.

So, I did.

Quite a sight I was arriving with my gift bags in tow.  With each person, other than the aforementioned person, I was able to explain why I waited and what this day means...the day the Son of Man was revealed as the Son of God.  I also told them that I waited because Christmas is about how Jesus came to us and, since He comes still, Christmas is really something we ought to celebrate every day, not just December 25th.  While I am sure my words were lost amongst the strangeness of my choice, I still savored the opportunity to speak them.

The one who suggested I wait until Epiphany was quite excited to receive her gift on this day even though doing so was her choice!

While I am not suggesting that each person in your family receive 12 gifts, I believe it would be most advantageous if you spread your opening of the gifts out amongst the 12 (13) days, even if it means not everyone opens a present every day.  Nor do the gifts need to be big things or even purchased things, coupons for labors of love are wonderful to give and receive.  Waiting is a good thing.  Taking your turn is a good thing.  Celebrating with others their good fortune is a good thing.  

Just imagine a 12-days-of-Christmas ceremony in which you spent time sing hymns, retelling the story of the birth of Christ, opening a gift or two, and closing in thanksgiving and prayer.  I am sure someone could come up with a better ceremony, but if you do so day after day for twelve days, you and yours will be grounded in the grace and mercy of Christmas, tasting its riches upon your tongue, savoring them as you would that great feast you had on day 1, even as you celebrate day 12.

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I sat next to Pastor in bible study.  He only set up one table, which was all that was necessary, but I would have preferred two tables so we were all not quite so close to each other.  I sat next to him for safety.

Sunday, in church, the fragrance of the wine from the Lord's Supper clung to my godmother as she returned to her seat beside me.  Given that she had had but a sip, I wonder if it was the Holy Spirit heightening my senses.  For I became quite distracted from the hymn by the sweet, heady fragrance of the wine.  It fomented my anticipation, and I wanted to call out to Pastor to hasten his way back to me in order that I, too, might have the Lord's Supper.  While I am sure he was speedy as could be proper since the service could not conclude until he was back up front, watching him walk to the pew were I sat resting in the corner was excruciating.  I was convinced the world had suddenly shifted to a slow-motion parallel reality.

In choosing safety, I was quite near the cup as it sat waiting for the time for Pastor to raise it to our lips.  From the moment he set it down, I could smell the wine.  I thought I longed for the Supper this afternoon following confession/absolution, but I truly did not.  For after mere moments, I was all ready to abandon the liturgy and get right to the blessing the Supper part (I am sure it is called something else).  Me!  I was completely ready to skip the Agnus Dei!

So, uhm, I tremble beneath his crucifix and the cup.  What next?