Cleaning is Not Always the Answer

Have to be honest--today was a horrible, no good, very bad day--or at least it started that way. 

I woke up and my knee throbbed--the dogs didn't care. We have a routine from which they will not deviate. "Damn dogs," I mumbled, "Why do you have to be so obsessive in your routine?" Thank goodness they cannot answer--I do think they may have given me a look that was equivalent to a snarky toned, "You Miss Color Coding, only use certain mugs are really asking us that?" Anyway the routine involves multiple trips from the kitchen to the backdoor. I looked down at the clean dishwasher and thought, "I just can't stand here to unload this. I'll ask someone else to do it." (Progress right? Asking for help...truth--I never asked. BUT my not so obsessively routine husband did it anyway.)

I sat on the couch with my knee iced and elevated working on articles for work and planning this weekend's youth retreat, and then I remembered the laundry. So back up, down the stairs to the basement, up the stairs, then up the next set of stairs, then back down...you get the point. I did, however, sit back on the couch to begin folding. My knee was now hot and throbbing and all I could think about was the upcoming surgery.

Here's the honest part you may want to skip over--all that thinking (I choose not to call it obsessing) went straight to my gut and I spent the next 20 minutes in the bathroom. That was the first trip...

Meanwhile Chris went out to start his car only to discover someone had gone through it pulling everything out of the glove compartment and throwing stuff around. He came back in less than happy but then admitted he had left it unlocked and warned me to make sure I always locked mine.

On the second or third trip to the bathroom, the trip when my son stood on the outside of the door talking to me because he needed to go to class and whatever he needed to tell me was that important, I realized this all had to do with my upcoming surgery.  And this is where I had to sit (okay I was already sitting) and admit I am terrified.

I have had LOTS of surgery--8 on this particular knee plus many others. I have never been afraid. I mean I don't like having to sign all those consents about anesthesia and the risks. I always think about the warnings they say only 1-2% of people actually experience. But you know someone has to be that 1-2%. I realized it's not that causing my fear.

Another truth--I actually have no idea what all the fear is--I know part of it is how painful I know it will be. I've dealt with pain before....(I also know I am also VERY fearful, but not hours in the bathroom fearful, of anyone else doing our laundry....)

So what did I do? Sit and reflect, journal, pray--nope. I started cleaning. Every vent in this house has
now been vacuumed, and I hung pictures, and I started thinking about whether it was reasonable to clean the baseboards that I cleaned this past weekend again. I resisted in the moment but I reserve the right to fill that bucket up tomorrow...

I finally was able to leave the house only to discover my car had also been ransacked--a slight exaggeration, but I did feel violated and angry and creeped out someone was slinking around our house in the dark of night.

The day gradually got better--mainly because I did everything in my power to avoid thinking about the surgery which is a feat in and of itself since I'm hobbling around on crutches with an orange boa tied to them.

Tonight at our Lenten study I was teaching the process of lectio divina (lectio divina process). We were using the passage in the Gospel of Matthew chapter 5--the beatitudes. In the process of lectio divina the reader or listener of a passage listens for the phrase or word that stands out to that particular person. Clear as day as though it was a neon (hopefully orange and blue) flashing sign the words, "Jesus sat" hit me hard E.V.E.R.Y time. (part of the process is re-reading the passage multiple times)

Is this God telling me I need to take care of my knee by sitting down? Possibly, okay probably, but I think it's a lot more. When I listen with my heart, I believe God is encouraging me to sit down and take the time to think, to process, to acknowledge my fear, and to rest in the comfort of God's love. Frantic cleaning and laundry and ironing are simply bandaids to temporarily stop the "bleeding" but that is all.

The next step in the process is to respond...