I Don't Love Enough

A good friend posted this confession on his blog.  Randy Christian and His wife have been friends for many years.  Donna is struggling with a long term issue.  Read this article, and consider if perhaps, you could have written this article yourself.

Years ago I made a promise to Donna to love (do what is best for) her in any circumstances—specifically “for better or worse”. Of course, like most people I never really believed there would be a “worse”. But like all people, I have learned there is.

Over the past few months my commitment to Donna—my love for her—has been put to the test. She has been developed “Charcot’s foot”, a condition that almost exclusively occurs in people with neuropathy—a lack of feeling in their feet—usually from diabetes or back injury (she has both). Simply put, the foot’s internal structure falls apart (actually, tears apart). The beginning of this process would send most of us through the ceiling in pain and we simply wouldn’t put weight on the foot—allowing it to heal before the damage is done. In neuropathy patients, the pain isn’t there, so they don’t know to stop walking on the foot (it doesn’t help when the doctor blithely tells you to keep walking on it because there isn’t anything really wrong with it).

The result is permanent damage if you are fortunate—and she has been. If all goes well, she’ll heal as her foot is (misshapen and weakened) but be able to walk again. Of course, that’s after being confined to a wheel chair for 3-6 months.

We are now about 7 weeks into that process. It has been very hard on her, and yes on me too. One of the hardest things I have experienced is the challenge to my love for her. Remember—that means doing what is best for her. She can do very little for herself. She can’t go upstairs. She can’t put any weight on that foot (and oh yes, the other foot is still healing from a fracture the same doctor said wasn’t there). That means that, in addition to the normal (rather extreme) demands on me, I also do most of the house work (well, what gets done anywayJ), errands, etc. Getting out of the house is hard for Donna, and it entails me loading and unloading the wheel chair at every stop, pushing her around, and getting her anything she needs while we’re out. Friends help when they can, but the nature of what needs to be done, time, and our location limit what they can do.

Of course, she is the one injured. She is the one with permanent damage and disability. Not me.

I’m the one battling the little things like impatience, frustration, weariness, fear, anger, and all the normal things that go on between husband and wife. And I’m the one wondering why I can’t love my wife better than I do. After all, I would gladly lay down my life for her. The answer is simple. Living for someone (loving them) is much harder than dying for them.

In the course of all this I’m learning things about myself I’m not jazzed about.

I’m learning I don’t love as well when love is hard as I thought I would.

I’m learning I’m more selfish than I thought I was.

I’m learning that living for someone (yes, even the Lord—see Romans 12:1) is harder than dying for them—and living for them is what actually shows love.

I don’t love as well as I want to. But I think I’m getting better at it. Strange that it took this to make that happen. But maybe that’s what marriage is really about– loving when “worse” comes.

It Hurts to Laugh

This last week, I took the first step toward a spinal neuro-stimulator implant, a device that blocks pain.  The trial only lasted a couple of days, but what a difference it made!  Pain was virtually eliminated whenever the machine was on.  I could walk normal, and people said that my countenance even had an improvement without pain.  There are a few drawbacks.  Not the least of which is that the stimulation increases dramatically when you  cough, sneeze, or laugh.

I will gladly make every attempt to control sneezing, and coughing.  Those activities only drive people away.  But I have decided that it is worth jolts of volts to experience the joy of laughter.  When I laugh, those around me are happier people.  When I laugh, conversation is about positive and happy things.  When I laugh, I forget life's difficulties.  Research even shows that when I laugh, I add years to my own life.

The lesson that I learn from this is that some things are worth a little pain.  Love is worth whatever pain may eventually come.  Relationships are worth occasional pain because of the growth it brings us.  But for me, laughter is worth the pain.  The benefits of the stimulator makes it worth the temporary pain that may come.  But more than this, I don't ever want to stop laughing.

So, when I say, "it hurts to laugh," I really mean it.  When they implant the permanent stimulator in me, it will hurt every time I laugh.  So what?  I guess I will give new meaning to the phrase, "I laughed until I cried."

What sacrifices are worth making to you?

The Power of Love

Pain is a relative term. We can give in to it, and let it consume us. When we do, pain can hurt even worse that it should. Those who give in are rarely seen, unless it is at the doctors office. I don't want to sound critical of the power that pain can have. I have had my share, and I know how difficult it can be to work through. But this week, I discovered another force that can even influence pain. It is the power of love and friendship. After six weeks of being in recovery mode following knee replacement surgery, I had the privilege of officiating at the wedding of some great friends. I was committed to not drawing attention to myself and my problems, so I decided to leave the cane in the car. The wedding went well, and I didn't even miss the cane. At the reception I even managed a slow dance with my daughter. It hurt, but not nearly as bad as I anticipated. Pain was not the focus. Friends and celebration was the focus of the day. In the end it very well. Looking back on the event, I am reminded that love really does conquer all. The pain doesn't go away when you invest yourself in others, but it certainly becomes more tolerable when it isn't the focus of your attention So, who can you do to invest yourself in others? How can you turn your focus outward toward friendships? Get out of the house, find something to do. It won't kill you, and may must make your life better.