Rubber Bands

Rubber bands are generally very flexible. Last week, I watched a 5th grade student at school testing the limits of rubber band flexibility. He was supposed to be paying attention the lesson, but was far more engrossed in the laws of physics. I felt he was about to learn a very valuable lesson, and I should really not interfere. Sometimes, experience is a far superior teacher than simple verbal correction. He began by stretching it out between his fingers. He continued to test its limits by twisting it and pulling it further and further apart. The band seemed to stretch beyond a reasonable capacity. Then this fine young scientist placed one end of the rubber band between his teeth and hooked the other on his index finger. Of course, the end result was that the band broke and snapped him squarely in the lower lip. He rubbed his lip, tucked the offending stretchy object in his pants pocket and went back to attending to the math lesson.

I had a similar experience last week. Sunday's lesson at church was about Lent. We discussed not just giving up chocolate, or overeating, or smoking, but giving up something truly harmful to our spiritual growth and development. I committed to giving up negative speech for forty days to prepare for the Easter celebration and rebirth of a new Christ consciousness. Feeling very lofty and inspired, I left church to return home, work on the house and prepare to embark on this wonderful journey. That evening, Sarah began experiencing pain in her back on the right lower side. She also began running a fever. I gave her some Tylenol, reassured her that it was going to be fine, and led her in a meditation to help her relax and fall asleep. Mind you, at this point, I was still lofty and spiritual.

Monday morning rolled around and Sarah arose with a fever of 102 degrees and complaints of more back pain. She took her regular does of Motrin and we went to school. My principal is very understanding about Sarah's condition and understands that she isn't contagious to the other children. I was thinking of Jesus' command of: "Take up your bed and walk". We usually just keep on keepin' on until it is obvious that more serious intervention is necessary. Still, I called Dr. Sindel's office as soon as they opened to see if they could squeeze her into CF clinic that day. I spoke to Nurse Karen and she said that they couldn't see her, but I should take her to the emergency room. This was precisely NOT what I wanted to hear. Sarah and I stayed at school until 2:00 p.m. when she came to me crying of back pain. We left and went home. I gave her some more Tylenol and she did her treatments, which helped ease the pain somewhat. The decision was made to make it through the night, but her fever came back every time the Tylenol wore off. Fear and worry began to creep in.

Fat Tuesday came and I certainly did not relish the idea of going to Mobile to the hospital during all the Mardi Gras craziness. (Mardi Gras is a topic for a blog all its own. Perhaps I will write it one day. Better yet, Sarah and Dan's grandmother, Maxine, should write it. Hearing her talk about it, having moved down here from Maine is hysterical.) All day, we gave Sarah Tylenol and prayed that she would make a turn around. She did all of her regular meds, and since she was already on TOBI, I just prayed that somehow, God's healing power would kick in for her providing a much needed miracle. We meditated again to help her sleep. Periodically all day, she complained of back pain. That night, she awoke in the middle of the night and threw up (mostly mucus). She was running fever and crying with pain in her back and chest. Resigned, I knew what the next step had to be.

Thus, Wednesday morning, I took her to the emergency room in Mobile. They admitted her and called her doctor, who wisely chastised me for having waited the extra time. We entered the hospital on Ash Wednesday. Sarah's mid-line was placed on Thursday and after her fever subsided, she was discharged on Friday. She is now on a 14 day course of I.V. meds at home. We go for a follow-up appointment tomorrow.

So, here I sit with all of this and my committment to speak positively. Hospitalization doesn't feel "positive" to me. My child having pneumonia and having to have a catheter placed in her arm for the administration of I.V meds doesn't feel positive to me. I want that Biblical type of healing that Jesus performed. The woman touched the hem of Jesus' robe and he said, "Go on with your bad self. You are made whole." (I'm paraphrasing, of course, since I am not much of a scripture quoter.) And, then, the time with Lazarus... I mean, he was actually dead. His family was crying. Jesus went in, healed him and out of the tomb he walked. I have always been interested in what Lazarus went on to do after he was brought back. I wonder if anyone knows... Still, that too, is a topic for another blog. At any rate, you get my point. I want a burning bush, hand on head, annointing with the oil, honest-to-goodness miracle!

So far, our healing doesn't seem to work like that. The healing involves positive, wonderful acts of God working through people that don't seem positive at the time. "Thank you, God, for that mid-line catheter which allows medicine that your children developed to flow through my child's veins restoring her health." These are the words that I need to say. "Thank you, God, for the vest therapy machine and nebulizer treatments that my children to take daily to maintain their health." "Thank you, God, for the oral medications that my children take daily to maintain their health." I'm working on learning to say these words instead of, "Oh no... Not the hospital again." "Oh, I am so tired of having to fight with the girls to get their treatments and take their meds." Who knows? Maybe if I change my words to reflect the positive, our whole experience will change.

For now, though, I am working with these ideas. I am playing with diligent practice of speaking positively, just like the 5th grader and his rubber band. I can stretch and grow and try to be ready for God's spiritual lessons for me. But, sometimes, I need to remember the limits of the rubber band, lest I get popped. God's healing power works for my children and my family. However, I have learned that it doesn't look like the biblical type of healing. I keep wanting it to. I keep trying to stretch my spiritual rubber band in that direction instead of simply going with God's guidance of the reality of the precious NOW.

The picture is Sarah and her Grammy, Maxine, who doesn't get Mardi Gras. Costumed people throwing beads off the back of pick-up trucks just doesn't resonate with her!