In This Issue:
“The Four A.M. Fears” by Sharman Collins
“Birds of a Feather” by Dave Graham
“Good Medicine” by Elinor Young
Copyright Information
Inspiration
The Four A.M. Fears
by Sharman Collins
I frequently wake up around 4 a.m. By then, my pain pills have worn off, and various parts of my body ache, cramp, and twitch. The reality of facing another day of coping with post-polio hits me hard.
Fear is a part of the reality. Losing more strength can be a threat to my ability to even get out of bed in the morning. Having to ask for more and more help from my family changes my own and their perception of my role in the family. Losing that very basic identity as a wife and mom causes a feeling close to panic in me. Do I tell my family the truth about my increasing pain and weakness and thereby take the risk that they will not include me in any of their activities? They are the ones that have to make the choice to change their plans to include me. My body has become my dictator — demanding more and more of my life and excluding me from decisions.
These fearful thoughts race my mind and color my perceptions. It takes all the discipline I can muster to reach out and grab the only hope I have. The Lord reaches down to me with a loving hand and pulls me out of my four a.m. despair. He promises to give me rest from my tortured thoughts.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)
“Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, the Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” (Lamentations 3:21-24)
I don’t know why He is allowing all these changes in my life, and I don’t need to know. He has promised . . .
“that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)
Birds of a Feather . . .
by Dave Graham
As I look back over my life I see periods in which I ran with different groups of people. Each of those groups had a profound effect on me.
I stand in amazement over just how close I came to losing my way.
Do you remember that old song That Old Gang of Mine? Well, as a teen there was just such a group of fellows that I hung around with.
Now today the word gang has a real negative connotation. It reminds us of the wild behavior of people when they run in packs. Even in those early years the collective power that I felt from being with the group was undeniable.
I have too admit, our gang did some things that today I am not proud of. At the time they did not seem so bad because we did them as a group. Somehow our individual responsibility for our actions seemed to vanish in the heat of the moment.
As a young man, there were a few years where I made my living as a night-club entertainer. Now this arena is sure to bring out the seedy side of anyone’s character. Going to work five nights a week in such an establishment causes a gradual, but sure decay of one’s moral fiber.
As I grew in age and wisdom I realized the affect that others were having on me. Upon this realization, I purposely began to associate with people that I wanted to be like. The people I respected became models for my behavior. Their morality and values became the issue. I soon realized that these people usually had something in common. They were Christians.
I did not become a Christian because I liked hanging out with other Christians, but their positive fellowship was a strong influence in bringing me to a saving knowledge of Christ.
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I will close my column with a favorite memory from my childhood.
My brother and I both had polio. We regularly had to go for hydro-therapy at a pool across town. Neither of us were very strong, so our play with the normal kids seemed rather restricted. It was at these pool sessions that we played with lots of other polio kids. These were good times because we fit right in. I cherish those memories.
Maybe that’s part of why I enjoy going to our Polio Outreach meetings.
“Good Medicine”
by Elinor Young
This Christmas brought to my mind some “good medicine” times of other Decembers, like my first Christmas in Irian Jaya, Indonesia. —————-
My psyche refuses to acknowledge that it is Christmas. The suffocatingly hot day has cooled somewhat at sunset, but the unmistakable odor on the wind is sweaty bodies, not snow. The sound assaulting my ears is not jingling bells but the swell of a language I don’t understand yet. The pageant begins and the angels dance onto the stage.
Ahh, something familiar. Using Balinesian ballet movements. Nice. To the tune of “My Grandfather’s Clock.” Say what?
Two years later, my third Christmas in Irian Jaya, I am with missionary friends at Mapnduma, mountain home of the Nduga tribe. A small diesel generator lights two bare 40-watt bulbs hanging from the rafters of the shed-like church. The mountain night air is chilly, but the Ndugas are comfy, squatting on their hunkers skin-to-skin on the grass-covered dirt floor. The prevailing aroma is again sweaty bodies. The pageant begins. Gabriel comes in the back door and walks through the crowd towards Mary. He goes by too fast in the dim light. What is it that is different about him? (Besides the thick-soled dirty bare feet.) He is leaving, climbing out a window. Joseph takes Mary’s place at the front. Good. Gabriel will come back. Yes, here he comes. He is wearing a halo around his head and through the hole in his nose. Through what?!
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The laughter wasn’t good medicine until I laughed at myself, not at the “quaint” ways of people different from me. Why not “My Grandfather’s Clock” and who says angels have halos at all? The joke was on me, learning not to take myself or the-(American)-way-to-do-it too seriously.
At Mapnduma we invented the MTS (Mountain Transport System) so that I could go on a picnic a couple of rivers away. Braced poles with an attached flattened net-bag for me to sit on and be carried, it was the Ndugas’ chance to learn that there is more than one way to scale a mountain. We laughed together.
Laughter — prince of barrier breakers and stress relievers. It helps me confront not being “normal” and invent a new way. It’s Vitamin L, the cope enabler. Keeps my spirit whole and my bones juiced. And it comes with a life-time, no-cost guarantee from its Maker. Beat that, Q-10!
P.E.N. & ink,
Providing experience based advice and emotional support for Polio survivors. Mailing address.
508 Shoreline Dr.
Liberty Lake, WA 99019