In Whom Do You Believe?

So I’m writing a novel. A young adult novel with the catchy title of The Preacher’s Daughter. (Can’t you see teenagers rushing to the bookstore to buy that one? Lol!) I know, art imitating life. Sort of. Actually, it isn’t autobiographical. Really. It isn’t about me. And it is entirely me.

And the preacher isn’t my Dad. And since my Dad is my image of a preacher it is somewhat my Dad but mostly me.

And the main character, the preacher’s daughter, has a much older brother and sister. But they aren’t my siblings. They are mostly me and people I know and my siblings.

And the friends of the main character aren’t my friends past or present. They are people I know. And people I watch in airports and hotel restaurants. And partly my friends past and present. But mostly me.

I’m writing this novel not because it is cheaper than therapy but because I have a story to tell - and it is cheaper than therapy.

The main character is looking for answers where I have always had questions. She wants to find love and acceptance and happiness and God. And I have questioned love and acceptance and happiness and God. Like I said, she is mostly me.

As a preacher’s daughter I have been taught faith, hope and charity. My character has too but like me she doesn’t always see those traits in action.

I want to believe. I want to have faith and hope and show charity to all. And then some idiot driver cuts me off twice on the drive home and charity goes out the window.

I want to believe that God loves me, has a plan for me and is intimately concerned with my well-being. But if that is the case, why can I barely breathe for the pain and walking and standing such a difficult chore?

Then again, am I changing the Almighty into a Santa Claus figure who looks like a grandfather handing out goodies to greedy children like me? Society teaches me I can have it all and some television preachers tell me to name it and claim it and if my faith is strong enough and I say enough “Hail Mary May I’s,” I’ll win the God lottery and be rich and blond and unnaturally tan with big hair (wait am I describing me in my high school days?) and all will be merry and light.

Each day I have to get up and get through the day. Each day my character tries to do the same and stay below the radar. That part wasn’t me until lately. I just try to do the best I can now with what I have been given, but my hip still hurts and I can’t feel my foot except for the sharp knifing pain and on and on and on but if I say that too often or too loudly it can and will be used against me.

As an infant, I was dedicated, as a child I was baptized and joined the church, as a teenager I rebelled and as an adult I am befuddled. I don’t always get it and I probably never will understand it all, perhaps that is the way it is meant to be for me. I find there are always new questions and old doubts.

In the course of the novel, my character grows, changes and adapts and finds a sense of peace, love and acceptance after enduring severe trials and tribulations (and hopefully a publisher who will take this project on as the trilogy it is meant to be). And I’m hoping to find the same because she is mostly me but she isn’t me.

And like me, my character is facing a challenging year with life altering decisions to make, and because she is mostly me, these decisions affect not only my character and me but others as well. And like my character I don’t usually know what decision to make or even how to make a reasoned decision.

Maybe the process of change and growth and adaptation and dare I say it, evolution is what I am in the midst of and I find it difficult to see beyond the day to day but if I can find a grain of hope I can live on to see another day. Because like my characters I am searching but not always finding what I’m looking for and it is easy to be disheartened. Strength is not my forte these days - strength to walk or to stand or to hope or to believe.

And yet, there is a pinprick of light or a drop of stubbornness. Just as my character never gives up in spite of her obstacles I have some faith in me just as she does because she is mostly me. Faith in God, my fellow man and my ability to endure drives me on. Because I have seen charity and I have seen the result of faith. I have seen the sick healed and the lame walk and dance and I have heard God’s love through the acts of another.

The questioning me thinks maybe it is a trick of the mind that makes me think this and maybe it is. But it is so much more positive than the alternative that I choose to accept. And that is all faith really is. Choosing to accept. Like my character who is mostly me, I understand that it isn’t an outward thing that makes me different it is the sum of my experiences and life’s battles.

I don’t have the answers or even know all the questions but for tonight it is enough to breathe and hope and pray and love and give freely to others.

So I, like my character who is mostly me, believes partly because I want to and partly because I'm afraid not to. Which reminds me of a story I heard about Billy Graham and an atheist. The atheist said to Billy Graham, what if you are wrong about God and Heaven? And Billy Graham replied, What if I am? If I am wrong I have lived a moral life and if I am right I get to go to heaven. If you are wrong, you spend eternity in hell. The atheist then believed.

I am at a crossroads in my life and the burdens are heavy and confusing but I will try to keep believing as much as I can and like my character will make it through the valley. The "weary ways" will pass, I hope and hopefully I will finish my book and my character like me will be set free.

I Know Whom I Have Believed by Daniel Whittle

I know not why God’s wondrous grace To me He hath made known, Nor why, unworthy, Christ in love, Redeemed me for His own.

Refrain:But “I know Whom I have believed, And am persuaded that He is able To keep that which I’ve committed Unto Him against that day.”

I know not how this saving faith To me He did impart, Nor how believing in His Word Wrought peace within my heart.

I know not how the Spirit moves, Convincing men of sin, Revealing Jesus through the Word, Creating faith in Him.

I know not what of good or ill May be reserved for me, Of weary ways or golden days, Before His face I see.

I know not when my Lord may come, At night or noonday fair, Nor if I walk the vale with Him, Or meet Him in the air.

Pain Scale Begone!

I was diagnosed with RSD/CRPS a few weeks ago. I remember watching a TV show about a woman who was confined to bed due to RSD and I recall telling the person I was watching with that I was thankful I didn’t have that. Fibro was bad enough. Then a few weeks later, I was diagnosed.

Went to the doctor today and one of the first things out of his mouth was to ask me about my pain level and asked me to rate it on a scale of 1 -10. I’ve been dealing with this little pain scale for years and I still don’t know what to answer.

There’s a question screaming inside my head begging to be asked so I must ask it here. A scale of 1- 10 meaning what? I mean, it is totally subjective. Imagine I cannot feel pain does that mean the pain isn’t there? Is the “10” ranking of hurts worse mean the worst pain I have ever felt or the worst pain anyone has ever felt? Pain is my constant companion and just because I’m not lying in the floor screaming doesn’t mean I can’t feel it. “Normal” for me is usually a 7 or 8, I suppose.

If I’m writhing in the floor screaming for mercy then I get to claim 10? Or what about the days I can’t get out of bed without assistance or the pain level that nearly makes me black out? How do I count the days that I cannot walk without a cane?

If I was at a “0” of “no hurt” why the heck am I looking at a pain chart to start with? I don’t know who the Wong-Baker is/are that created this chart, but I think I don’t like them.
Next my doctor wants a descriptive term – burning, sharp, tingling, stabbing, etc. and I respond with yes. He now thinks I am mentally deranged because I cannot answer a simple question though I believe I have answered it appropriately. I chose “E” or “all of the above” because they all apply. It may burn here, tingle there, stab somewhere else.

So, the doc gives me medication to treat the disease and try to keep it from spreading, blood thinners, offers stronger pain meds, etc. The meds all make me sleepy. So then I am offered another pill to wake me up. Seriously, I can have pain meds and speed and that seems just fine with everyone? That is messed up logic in my mind. I decline the stronger pain meds and the wake up pill and will self-prescribe my sleepiness with a caffeinated beverage. Without the pain meds I grind my teeth a lot and continue on. With the pain meds I stare into space and sleep the day away. Not a great way to spend your time in this short life.

I do wish I could take a nap from time to time, though. I have no idea why this would be frowned upon by my employer. :)

Happy Monday all. Now back to the daily grind.