APART FROM ME, YOU CAN DO NOTHING

When I was little, I longed to be a musician. I remember Mr. Williams, my elementary music teacher, coming in for our music time, playing instruments and singing. I was enchanted and mesmerized. I wanted to make music for myself, but I didn’t have instruments at home. My grandmother lived next door to me, and she had an heirloom piano in her living room. She allowed me to come over and play it sometimes as long as I treated it with respect and made sure that I sat gingerly on the three-legged vintage stool. No spinning on the rotating seat. My grandmother wasn’t always friendly and warm, but she paid attention when I sat at the piano. She was born into a family of talented singers and musicians so I guess she liked when a new generation was sitting at the old piano, even if I were just pretending to play. I copied the form from the Bugs Bunny episodes I’d seen where he played expertly.  I sounded nothing like Bugs, but my grandmother always remarked how it seemed like I’d been taking lessons. She told me that I was getting better every time. I don’t know if she was just being grandmotherly for those moments, but the comments fed my interest.

Of course I wasn’t taking lessons. Our family didn’t have the money for me to take formal piano lessons, but I did play clarinet. I was in the school band from third grade until twelfth grade where I learned to read music for free. I never practiced, though. I walked home from school every day, and I hated carrying that suitcase of a clarinet all the way home. Too heavy. Should’ve been a flute player. So, through all of the years in band, I never made it past third clarinet. Because of this, I assumed that I wasn’t a musician.

When tragedy struck in my life at age 38, my grandmother’s piano, now sitting in my own living room, was just the thing I needed. I was hit with a renewed affection for music. In my grief, I sat alone at the piano.  I dusted off the major and minor scales I learned in high school lesson group meetings and played them so many times that my fingers knew them without looking. The household was patient with the repetitive practices that eventually became one-handed chords. In a few months, I could sing along to a giant pile of songbooks with both hands on the keys. My grandmother would have been impressed.  Maybe even Bugs Bunny! I was elated!

When my church needed a piano player and worship leader, I volunteered, but with great timidity. Every Sunday made me nervous to the point of trembling, but I did it anyway. I learned that I loved to serve God this way. And I began to see the opportunity as a gift from Him. I still stand in awe of how God has given in to my silly desire. What a gift to me!  He allowed me to become a musician, to have something I always wanted, something that comforts me, something that blesses other people, and something that honors Him all at once. How blessed am I? To be given such a gift and permitted to use it to serve God? That’s almost more that I can even accept.

Unfortunately, I haven’t been playing in church lately.  I have been quite sick for thirteen weeks now. I have been slowly –very s l o w l y– improving, but I am still really sick. Originally, the illness began as extreme vertigo that was quickly relieved by an antibiotic. As it turns out, I am allergic to that medicine and my reaction caused me to became terribly ill. Fever, body pain, elevated liver enzymes, wild fatigue, wild dreams, wild sweats, mood swings, skin sensitivity, and weakness in my legs kept me in my bed for seven weeks. Meals were brought to me in my bed. I slept most of every day, waking from thirst that I sometimes had the strength to quench with the water by my bedside. By the time I felt well enough to leave my bedroom, I noticed that my leg weakness was more than what a fever would cause. Since then, the weakness has crept into my arms, my hands, my feet, even my neck and shoulders. And it’s changed into tingling and numbness: an apparent nerve issue. Neurologists are now testing me for Multiple Sclerosis and ruling out neurologic Lyme. Testing will be completed this week and I will have an answer by Friday.

I now need to rest between activities like showering and walking down the stairs, or like eating and cleaning my dish. On days that I need to leave home for a doctor appointment I must rest for a full day to recuperate.  My body just won’t go anymore; it demands the break. So, I retreat to the couch with my Peter Pan blanket and a pillow. Again.

And though you might think that not walking and fatigue are a giant problem, I would say that one of the more difficult symptoms has been the inability to concentrate on my own thoughts, to make plans, to remember what I should be doing — another sign of neurological issues. This is in stark contrast to my usual lifestyle of planning, goal-setting, and goal-reaching. Even word recall has been an issue on a really hard day, making it difficult to express myself at all, something very hard to take for someone nicknamed Chatty Cathy as a child….well, maybe as an adult, too.

The things I love to do seem to have been suddenly stripped away from me. When I feel like having a pity party I draw up the whole list of “I can’ts”.  I can’t go for a hike in the woods. I can’t drive to New Hampshire to see my infant grandson. I can’t stand in the shower. I can’t sing without getting winded. I can’t go up a staircase without crawling. I can’t go to work without my husband pushing me through the parking lot and hallways in a wheelchair. I can’t clean my house. I can’t make dinner for my family. I can’t walk the dog. I can’t go shopping on my own. I can’t see very well because of a new blurry vision issue, so reading is annoying. I can’t pray like I usually do. I can’t go out in the backyard and feed my chickens or collect their pretty eggs. I can’t dance. I can’t stroll along beside my husband holding hands. I can’t even stand long enough to hug him in the kitchen. I can’t find the motivation to write. And, on top of all that, the one beautiful part of my life where I can always find peace and joy and a way to talk to God is also gone: I can’t play piano.

To play piano, I keep rhythm with both my legs. I sit upright. I bounce to the music as I sing along. My hands move continuously along the keys playing chords and keeping a cadence. Now, getting through one song is exhausting. Practicing isn’t possible, so I can’t play in church. I haven’t been playing for God in over three months. That’s hard to accept. I learned to play some guitar, so I could switch for now, but would it really matter? I’m not sure that I’m able to play guitar, either. I haven’t tried yet because I truly don’t want the disappointment of finding out that I can’t. Who wants to add to the list of I can’ts?

All along I’ve felt that I will be 100% fine. I trust God completely. That is the truth. I love Him. I know He loves me. I’m sure that I will be okay. If I need to adjust to some terribly debilitating illness, then He will strengthen me and my family to cope with it. This isn’t my first trial. I already know that God never leaves me on my own. He never allows me to go through a tough spot without Him near. He is with me now, too.

The problem is that I have been waiting to give my victorious testimony until there is a resolution. On December 8th, the neurologist will tell me what the results of the testing suggests. So, once I know the diagnosis and we digest it as a family, I will begin to tell others the whole story about the goodness of God. I will explain how we always need to trust Him through trials and watch as He uses it to benefit somebody somewhere. Blah blah blahhhh  I’ve been thinking this way for all of these thirteen weeks.  Nonsense.  It’s just nonsense.

I sat at the piano tonight and tried to play. I got through one song and had to stop. And just like that, the idea of stalling my testimony became ridiculous. Why the waiting?  What kind of testimony can only praise God after I get an answer?  Don’t I see the blessings in it right now?  If life is changing permanently, I will serve God in some other new way.  God can be trusted to stay with me as He changes my life and turns this all around for good. His Word says so. I should be able to stand on that…to rejoice in the present sufferings.  Can’t wait for the diagnosis.  I need to do this even before I have an answer.

So, here it is. I don’t always feel hopeful. That’s the truth. And I don’t always feel happy. More truth. I’m bummed because I missed all of my favorite season. I’ve been sick from September to December so far.  So far…and for how long? I often wonder how long I will be unable to walk. I acknowledge that I actually have no guarantee that I’ll ever walk normally again. I have no way of knowing if the numbness in my face is temporary or not. I say it out loud with my husband Tom sometimes, and he shares his thoughts, too. Rough thoughts from both of us. Hard reality right now.

In all of this, I’m never ever mad at God about any of it, though. And I’m never ever bugged by not knowing His intentions. I’d love to know the big picture, to pan out and see how this all turns out, but it isn’t really my business. God knows better than I do. Whether I am well or whether I remain as is for the rest of my days is all up to my Father in Heaven who I trust implicitly. He will make a way for me. He loves me.

That doesn’t mean I can’t still whine about it though. And I do.

The Pastor of our church happens to fully understands my difficulty with walking. He has been battling his own MS diagnosis and many of these same symptoms for years. His understanding heart has been a blessing to me. We both understand how difficult standing at the bottom of a staircase can be. The only way to enter our 100-year-old church sanctuary is to walk up a brick staircase. He has shared with me that he ascends them only by speaking to the Lord on every step. His legs don’t like stairs these days either, but he feels God makes him able. It comforts him to be reminded that he can do nothing without God. I like that thought. It makes me remember to keep my humility. Who is able to use a staircase at all except by the grace of God? I can’t do any single thing without Him. Truth magnified by circumstance.

I feel that God wants me to give my cheerful testimony starting right now, not after Friday’s appointment. I am grateful for many things: I don’t have pain; vertigo has passed; my legs aren’t paralyzed or lifeless, just numb and cement-like; my vision is blurry, but not gone; and God has allowed me to have an able, working, healthy body for 47 years. I’ve been blessed to never hesitate at the bottom of a staircase until now.

Also, thirteen weeks of quiet time at home has caused me to appreciate what God has already given me. I have been caring about the smaller circle around me like I usually don’t have time to do. I love my home. I love my teaching job. I love my students. I love my husband and my children and my parents. I love how God speaks to me, especially when I’m not able to pester Him with my questions and worries and thoughts. I love that God has already allowed me to accomplish this much. I love the projects He has called me to, but I also love that they are on hold right now. He will make me able when it is time to get back to work in ministry. Nothing happens by accident. God is right here reminding me to love what I already have. All the rest just isn’t my business. The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away.

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