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Posts Tagged ‘lower back pain’

I had it all worked out. We would spend a nice, quiet time at home in December and January, with occasional visits from relatives and friends. I would finally get some more writing done, after speaking so much this past year. And, of course, I would make time somehow to watch the cricket on TV. And the tennis. What bliss! I could even start some knitting, in preparation for our new grandchild. That would mean I wasn’t really wasting my time, watching all that sport!

Alas—it hasn’t quite worked out that way. Instead, I am writing this lying awkwardly on my side in bed, my laptop balanced on a nearby chair. I have severe lower back trouble, with resulting bad sciatica in my left leg, which makes walking and even sitting difficult. Of course, I can still watch that cricket and tennis. But it’s hard to write at any length, typing sideways. Besides, the medication I’m on means I have difficulty finding my brain at times. And has anyone tried knitting, while lying flat on one’s back?

This whole experience has served to remind me well of James 4:13-14:

Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money. Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”

Needless to say, my natural reaction to all this has been to feel very frustrated. I have so much I want to write. I was sure God wanted me to complete my next non-fiction book by June. Besides, I need to be setting up speaking engagements for the coming year and planning out those months ahead. Yet here I am, doing none of it. I have found it easy to slip into feeling sorry for myself, as I lie here in the one position that is reasonably comfortable, heat pack on my back and wondering what will happen at my next visit to the specialist.

Then I received a little card in the mail, out of the blue, from a lady at our church. Apparently, she had heard about my back troubles from my husband and wanted to let me know she is praying for me. A lovely thing, for sure. But it was the words on the front of the card from Lamentations 3:22-23 that struck me most:

The Lord’s love never ends; his mercies never stop. They are new every morning.

Hmm. If that‘s true, I thought—and it is—then the Lord is still loving and merciful to me right here in the midst of this change of plan and this pain. Surely a good reason to focus on him rather than feel sorry for myself.

That same day, an email arrived unexpectedly from a writer colleague who did not know about my back troubles. To encourage me for the year ahead, she quoted Lamentations 2:22-23 from the NIV:

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 think the Lord’s trying to remind me of something, don’t you?  Even that is a loving act—and i am comforted.

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I wonder if you have ever had the experience of not being fully listened to, just when you really needed someone else to understand how you felt? It can be annoying, can’t it—not to mention downright disappointing. Such experiences usually make me feel quite cranky—even to the extent of wanting to shake the other person and yell “Listen to me!” But so far I’ve managed to shut my mouth in time and smile more or less sweetly. And just as well, because I have a sneaking suspicion I might have done exactly the same thing to many others in the course of my life.

In recent weeks I have been unable to get out of the house much because of lower back trouble. Family members have been wonderful, doing many things I normally do and looking after me. And two friends in particular have visited and phoned regularly. I value both these women so highly. They went out of their way to spend time with me. And they truly listened and empathised. They put their own issues aside—of which they both have quite a number—and gave of themselves to me, for which I am very grateful.

A few days ago, I decided to try my back out and make the effort to mingle again with friends and acquaintances at a particular gathering. One or two had noticed I had not been around and welcomed me back. And another began to do the same, but our conversation soon morphed into a major litany of her own back issues. After listening for some time and becoming increasingly tired and sore, I expressed my concern for her and moved off. I then noticed another lady sitting at an awkward angle and enquired if she had back trouble. Sure enough, she did—and thus began another sad litany about her health issues. I told her I had noticed her because I had a sore back too, but this hardly seemed to register. And as I headed home, I found myself wondering if we had lost the art altogether of really listening and caring for others in their troubles rather than being so caught up in our own.

But as I lay down again with relief and prepared to wallow in my self-pity, some uncomfortable thoughts occurred to me. While I had been so busy searching for sympathy, how many others in even greater need had I missed noticing? Yes, one lady had caught my eye, but did my experience with her make me blind to others in equal need of empathy? And were those ones who had shared their troubles with me in much more need of comfort and understanding than I was? Maybe they didn’t have a loving family or two caring friends as I did.

And then I remembered the words of Philippians 2:4-5 that always seem to wake me up to myself:

Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as Christ Jesus …

That pretty much takes care of my wanting to shake people because they aren’t listening to all my woes, don’t you think? Perhaps instead if I humbled myself more often and made myself nothing, just as Jesus did, things would change around me.

Perhaps if we all did it, whole communities would change and believe.

Perhaps it truly is worth learning the art of being there for others, don’t you think?

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