When my tired is someone else's version of "I'm dying", it's really tempting to fall into despair. I mean, it would be so easy to allow myself to become so passive or distracted that I could 'forget' to fight. It would be simple, that is, without the physical pain to remind me.
Truth is, I want to forget.
There. I actually said it out loud.
I. Don't. Want. To. Fight. Anymore.
My son is a 10 year infantry combat veteran. Ten years. A freaking decade of fighting.
Let that sink in for a moment.
When he returned from his last deployment he rented a really nice condo, bought some new furniture and household items and created for himself a peaceful sanctuary to live in.
I was in the hospital doing my own fighting when his feet landed back on American soil so it took a while for me to actually go over to his place. Upon visiting him for the first time, I remember feeling such a sense peace in his home. When I mentioned it to him he said, "Mom, I've been a man of war for 10 years now. I just want peace. I don't want to fight anymore. Not ever. I guess that's why you feel peace here. Number one, I'm home, so there's that, but in addition to that I've tried to make a peaceful place for myself here. I have coffee out on the balcony every morning. I look through the trees. I don't hear bombs or bullets. It's nice. I don't have to try not to get blown up today. I can't ever forget the wars I've been a part of, but I don't have to live there anymore."
He gets it, and I understand a little bit about that part of his journey.
We understand that some things are worth fighting for. Freedom from terrorism, tyranny and oppression. Freedom period. A future for the children. Living life. Yes, some things are worth a fight. So, I always will. I'll fight until the day we find a cure or the day I die, whichever comes first. I don't have the time or the luxury to retreat from the fight. Every morning my body wakes me up and it reminds me, in no uncertain terms, that I have this enemy- Lyme Disease- vying for complete control of my body. Lyme is stealthy, relentless, and pernicious but I am not afraid. Fighting it has become the norm, I'm accustomed to it now. The plan is to win the battle against this foe, but what does that look like in reality? Is there more to it than lab work, shots, IVs, medicines, antibiotics, vitamins, and a countertop that resembles a pharmacy? Yes, God, yes. There's more to this life than that!
It may not look like I'm cured in this lifetime. But, what if I can forget the pain, forget the hopelessness and forget the sadness? What would happen if, like my son, I choose on any given day to remember the joy and refuse to take for granted the little things that really matter?
Oh the simple joys of living! How many times pre-Lyme did I take coffee and a sunrise on the balcony for granted?
A walk through a Colorado meadow at dusk. The smile of a friend and hugging them tight. Riding on a horse or a Harley and feeling truly free as the wind whips and tangles my hair all around. The scent of new rain on thirsty fields of alfalfa. Being curled up under a blanket, squealing over a scary scene in a movie. Watermelon. Camping. Boat rides. Hot cocoa in the winter. Bobbing for apples in the fall. Christmas morning. Laughing so hard your sides ache. Inside jokes that will always, always make you laugh no matter how many times you've heard them. The scent of jasmine in the summertime. A farmer's market. A starry night. A slow kiss. The little pink belly of a new puppy and how their breath smells.
Then there are the innumerable other moments so special and alive with promise that you want to live them over and over again until your last breath. All those little things are what make life so very beautiful and special, God forbid we take them for granted ever again!
So, Dear God, please make my last breath on this earth arrive when I'm old and gray with laugh lines a-plenty on my wrinkly, smiling face. Please let me live to see my grandchildren's children playing on my kitchen floor with some new-fangled toys that surprise and delight them.
I just want to live. Please God, let that happen.
So I will remember the blessed, sacred moments that some would deem ordinary. I will remember God's goodness and grace towards me.
The pain, the despair, and agony Lyme has caused? I'll just forget it.