Lizzie came into my room Thursday morning with a cheery “look, Mom!” and shined a flashlight in her throat. Very swollen tonsils. Several white spots. Lovely. She is kid #3 in our family, so this is NOT the first time I’ve seen any number of variations of a sore throat. And I’ve never really been alarmed. Until Thursday.
Here’s why: she is scheduled for major back surgery at Doernbecher Children’s Hospital this coming Wednesday.
About 15 months ago, Lizzie was told that she would likely need surgery to correct her scoliosis. Since that time, we have been emotionally and logistically preparing ourselves for this lumbar/thoracic fusion with hardware – a 12-15 inch incision, 5-7 days in the hospital, and 6 weeks of recovery. In January, our family decided that this summer was the time for this life-disrupting event. Let’s do this thing.
So Thursday we went to the doctor (found out it is not strep) and her surgeon told us that it is possible that the sore throat could postpone surgery. Possible. Not for sure, but possible. If her surgery has to be postponed, we have to wait 30 days before it can be rescheduled.
To fully appreciate this little story, you may need to know a few things about me.
I plan.
I plan free time, social events, projects.
I schedule.
I schedule conversations, tasks, meetings, housework, recreation.
I plan vacations. It is ½ of the fun of vacation.
I plan months (and sometimes years) ahead.
I plan well.
I plan compulsively.
Planning makes me happy.
As I read this description, I wish it were more of an overstatement. “Spontaneous” is something other people do. And it looks interesting. And mildly uncomfortable.
It is hard to describe how much a surgery postponement and rescheduling is not, and I do mean NOT, in the “plan”.
I have cancelled 2 weeks of clients.
My husband has planned time off of his work.
Lizzie has no camps, no trips, nothing “summer-ish” planned for the rest of July and August.
We have each completely cleared our schedules.
The last couple months have been spent positioning our life for this surgery and her recovery.
Not. In. The. Plan.
And I am strangely grateful. (Folks, we are finally getting to the main point of this story. You may now breathe a sigh of relief.)
Here it is: with all my compulsive planning, I live a lie. This lie says that I control my life through planning. This is a comfortable illusion. The lie says that when I plan and position, I can guarantee that the plan will happen. This last year of fighting cancer has challenged that lie over and over again. There are very few ways in which this year has gone as I planned (or wanted). And I am actually learning to unclasp my hands. Some. But the possibility of a reschedule has exposed yet more layers of my clenched fist stubbornly hanging on to the mirage of control.
When I put all my weight on my plans, on this illusion of control, it is profoundly dangerous. It can and will eventually hurt me. Because it is not based in reality. When I hold rigidly to my plans, I am violently jerked around when life does not do what I have decreed.
The current challenge for me is to once again acknowledge that there is a God… and I am NOT Him. In any way. I have the privilege of submitting to His loving design. I get the opportunity to put my heart and head in the arena of reality. This reality reminds me that God alone ultimately determines my life events, their timing and their sequence. I won’t do it perfectly, but I want to trust a merciful and wise God with the timing of my daughter’s surgery. Don’t get me wrong. If we have to reschedule, it is going to be another painful blow in a year that has held been quite brutal. But here’s the thing: even if she does go into surgery on Wednesday as planned, life has given me another chance to flex, to release my agenda and to trust a kind Father with the details of my life. I have been given a gift of a fork in the road.
And for this I am strangely grateful.
Thank God for swollen tonsils.
Proverbs 16:9 In his heart, a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps.
I'm quite the opposite, and it must drive my poor wife crazy. (Yes, she's planner as well) She'll ask me in the morning what I have planned for the day, because, well, she has to fit that into her plans. "I don't know", I reply, because I don't, I hadn't really thought about it yet. Life got very complicated for her when I retired because before that she knew where I'd be for 8 hours everyday.
ReplyDeleteMy dear Con- as I fight chronic Lyme disease all the way over in the east coast, I have not forgotten about u and ur fight with cancer. My prayers have been with u as I struggle to do more than get out of bed or off the sofa for short events or important events like my son's high school theater this past fall and spring. Every one of my agendas --- and u know how much I like the spontaneity of a moment--- becomes surrendered to the reminder that something larger and better than me has me surrendered like a puppy in training at the end of a leash. What a picture!!! I miss u and our deeply woven and circular discussions-- we have had to move to NC to b closer to the Lyme specialist I see n DC every month or so. My treatment is likened to that of one fighting cancer-- but is not recognized by insurance yet in the chronic nature of treatment my body needs. So, many lost relationships( because I don't have juice to pursue/ followthru, and many thousands if dollars racked up on credit cards to get my IV meds fir my at - home self treatments, u have come to fully appreciate the peace that total surrender of my day/week/month/year looks like. What I Thot would b a short medical seeking trip to NC last June turned into a full blown move just one year
ReplyDeleteLater. I long to see healing this side of heaven but am growing ever more grateful fir the moments in given where I see what God means when He says that that I am not lived or valuable because of anything I do-- but purely because I'm His daughter-- now that's not easy to grasp when ur stuck on a sofa unable to be the wife, mom, friend, & daughter I once was capable of being-- it all just looks different--something all who have stayed the course with me have ridden the sometimes unrelenting waves of change with me to this other place I call-- surrendered & peacefully satisfied.
So, thank u for ur life and for ur blog on the plans of man ( woman). Neither of us would have factored into our plans where either of us has been given permission to go... With God right there with us-- not always in the ways we want Him there--- but nonetheless VERY THERE. I love u and miss u wise woman of God-- may the journey your on b filled with reminders of where u have been and hints of where u will b taken. Blessing upon blessing to u, my dear friend Connie. Hugs!!!!