Rhythms, Rides and Rest

My Grandparents used to drive us to Elk Island Park for a picnic. Buffalos roamed freely behind the fences and we’d watch them as my Grandpa set up a coleman stove to make coffee and prepare lunch. Grandma showed us how to pick up the huge dried “buffalo pies” and put them in plastic bags for compost for her garden. We thought this was pretty fun!

The drive there is probably only 45 minutes from home but as a kid it seemed like it took hours!

I loved this trip.

There was something about the bench seat in the back of their car that when I laid down on it, the sounds of the car seemed to seal up, almost making my ears pop and it lulled me to sleep. I could faintly hear their voices as we rounded the last corner, heard the signal come on as they turned the corner and felt the car slow to a stop. The heavy weight of the car, and Grandpa’s firm foot on the brake rolled me forward a little until I rolled back against the dark burgundy, tufted upholstery seat when it stopped.

As I anticipate my doctor’s appointment tomorrow and discuss the possibilities of a surgery to repair the damage that Endometriosis has recently done in and amongst my organs, I’ve been researching. There are a few specialists in a city close by and within Canada who are known for their expertise in these situations. I’ve been encouraged. I want to go to them. I want my Doctor to refer me. I want it to happen soon . . .

This morning, I wrote my wishes out in my journal as a prayer to God, asking, uh, actually, demanding that He use my research. And as I wrote, I saw my words, my angst, my will.

For the past 25 years, this disease has been in my body. Seven surgeries, many ultrasounds, MRI’s, CT scans, X-rays, scopes in every possible place a scope could be and doctor appointments almost as many times as trips to the grocery store. HOWEVER, life has been lived, marriage enjoyed, two sons have been raised and launched, relationships deepened with friends and family, further education pursued, books written, crafts created, and most of all, joy has been given to me, IN THE MIDST OF PAIN.

So, yes . . . this morning, as I wrote and saw my words pouring out onto the paper, my anxious, demanding, concerned and assertive words, I also sensed God’s invitation. “I know.” He seemed to be saying to me. “I know you’re in pain, I know you’re worried . . . Let’s just go for a drive.” And as I imagine, I imagine that He doesn’t say much more but as the sounds of everything quiets down in His Presence, I lean back, feeling the upholstery behind me, watching the scenery go by and feeling the motion settle me down, slowly.

Jesus said, “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Matthew 11:28-30 (The Message)