“The times we find ourselves having to wait on others may be the perfect opportunities to train ourselves to wait on the Lord.” ~ Joni Eareckson Tada

I am not a patient person. One of the worst things about this last Lost Year is that it took a year to damage each other, and the healing,

Get it? It’s Bird and Company in a Nursing Home….

while happening, is slow by the estimation of an impatient person. It reminds me of when I was in the hospital after being in a really terrible motorcycle accident.

From Chef’s viewpoint, the days and months dragged on agonizingly slow. However, because I was in a coma for most of the time I was in the hospital, it didn’t seem like that long to me.

The day I woke up completely, time seemed to begin ticking slowly by again, and all I wanted to do was to get away from that hospital room and be back in my own house surrounded by my own family and my own stuff. But after months of just lying in a bed, my physical body was unable to stand or walk for any length of time, and of course, the pain of all my broken ribs and collar-bone was excruciating. The doctors told me and Chef that I would need to go to a rehabilitation facility so that I can begin to build up my strength again. And being me, I immediately objected to this. First of all, I have worked in a nursing home before, and I’d rather die than be placed in one, even for a short period of time. Second, I hate nursing homes. And thirdly, I hate nursing homes with a purple passion.

Chef was annoyed that I wouldn’t budge on this stipulation, but he understood to a certain degree. He also hates nursing homes. So, he reluctantly began to help me get out of bed and let me practice walking on my own. I made a deal with my doctor that if I could walk to the nursing station and back to my bed, unaided, he would let me go home and bypass all this rehabilitation nonsense. And I did just that. I walked my shaky butt to the nurses station and back again, and then almost died from the coughing fit (I lost part of one lung in the accident and the blood was still being coughed up months later).  It took me literally hours to stop shaking and coughing, but I was feeling awesome about having proved to the doctors I could do it.

When I got home, though, I was still as weak as a newborn kitten, and since Chef had to work, it dawned on me that I no longer could ring a bell to get some help with food, the bathroom, showering, medication…you name it. And, just to add to the stress, I had all sorts of financial problems that arose from neglect because in our home, I’m the one who deals with things like insurance, utility bills, rent, etc., and poor Chef hadn’t been able to handle every single thing himself and spend every waking moment at my side in the hospital. Then there was my children, who had all freaked out in their own ways, and I suddenly had three rather angry, stressed teenagers to deal with on top of everything else. It was a nightmare homecoming.

I remember sitting on my bed, surrounded by months’ worth of bills and threat letters, reading the notice that because our car insurance had lapsed for non-payment for more than 30 days, I had had my license suspended, and I mentally was kicking myself. I was so convinced that I knew what was best for myself, and yet had I gone into the rehabilitation center as I probably should have, it would have allowed me to build up the physical strength that I would have needed to handle all the problems that had arisen from my being absent from my own life for a few months.

I feel like the same thing is happening with my marriage these days. Yes, things are going better, but the damage to both of our hearts does show, and I feel this impatience inside of me to be finished with the healing process quickly and efficiently. But, as with any physical wound, all the wishing in the world isn’t going to make your cuts scab up, heal, and then disappear. It takes time for true healing to happen, and all one can do is be patient, and not try to force the matter forward when it just can’t be changed so easily.

I don’t write any of this as a testimony that Chef and I are having problems again. We take each day one at a time, and some days are better than others. Instead, I have to take time to remember that while it seems like the time is just excruciatingly slow for these wounds to heal ,  at some point, the healing will be completed. That motorcycle accident happened 7 years ago, and now looking back, I can see just how quickly I really was able to heal up. These are things I have to remember when I feel that impatience rising up in my heart.

– Bird