As someone who works at a highly-regarded university in the Midwest in the Communications department, you would think that I'm a fairly good communicator. Like I teach my students when we cover the communication cycle, there is always interference (otherwise known as "noise") that makes messages garbled, misunderstood, or just plain nonsensical. One form of interference that I have to deal with daily is my poor hearing. I often rhyme out words I hear and it's especially difficult for me to hear well in crowded/noisy rooms. Not being able to understand others, especially when the people around me seem to be doing just fine, annoys me to no end--and I get discouraged, uncomfortable, and tend to withdraw from the group. My problem-solving skills tend to focus on what I can change about myself to work with others, not have others shift to work around me. After all, we're supposed to love our brothers (and sisters) more than ourselves...so wouldn't that mean just dealing with the problems and only focusing on them?
Not exactly. By not communicating my needs, especially ones that aren't that big of an issue (for the most part, no one would begrudge me asking for us to move to a quieter spot. After all, if I can better listen to them, then I can minister to them more--it becomes a win-win situation for all.), I'm only hurting myself and my friends/family. Ignoring my needs and emotions will only poison my time with these wonderful people and make me less of a good support for them. I have to be brave enough to ask for help and prayer with my own issues...and be honest about what's really going on.
The big issue? Fear. I'm afraid I'll lose my friends, my family, because I'm too needy or demanding or something like that. After all, it's happened before. By not being honest, though, I'm not encouraging a real relationship with these people--just empty or superficial shells of friendship and fellowship where I can't trust the person (and maybe the God within) with my vulnerabilities. A recent two-day talk with a very close friend about some serious miscommunications really drove this point home. I was so afraid of hurting her (because I knew how sensitive she was) so I didn't confront her appropriately with the results of some of her actions. Instead, I hid the pain and the discomfort, pretending to be my usual bubbly self. When I got to the point where I couldn't hide anymore, I nearly washed my hands of the relationship and ran away. Part of it was because I couldn't bear to witness the effects of my words on her. Part of it was because I didn't know how to tell her that I was angry and felt like I couldn't trust her sometimes. She meant (and still does mean) so much to me that I didn't want to risk losing her, but as I've learned recently, it's not a bad thing to be angry. Anger is a positive emotion--it's what you do with it (kill, vandalize, hide in the corner) that makes it a negative thing. After all, even the only perfect man who ever lived got angry (John 2:13-22). We did talk things out, and while I never expressed my feelings of betrayal, I think she got the point. If she didn't...I'll soon know.
Jesus commanded us to love one another (John 13:34). Part of love is being honest (1 Cor. 13:6). We can't hide behind fear and think our silence and crossed fingers will make everything better eventually. We have to be brave.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
True Relaxation: God Can Use You Anywhere!
Too many times in my life I feel like a toddler following my mother around the house, asking a single question in response to her every word. “Why?” Lately I’ve been doing that to God. Why haven’t you given me a sign as to my future? Why have you given me the struggles that I have? Why have you healed others but not me? As of this morning, I have an answer.
Living with a disease like fibromyalgia is a study in patience and perseverance. Everything could cause pain, but not everything will all of the time. It’s so full of variables and unexplained phenomena that I’m constantly on my toes. Will I be able to climb the stairs today? Will sitting in my office chair suddenly cause stabs of pain in my hips? Will I get a migraine or not? There are no definite answers, no good “preventative” treatments, at least not for me. There is just my willpower that will breathe through the pain and the prescription narcotics for when it’s too much for me to bear. One thing does help: massage therapy. Going once a week to have these talented women work out my knotted muscles and address the misfiring nerves actually makes each week more livable.
Still, I wondered why God hadn’t healed me. I accepted long ago that there was a reason for this, but we all know how that goes. Without knowing what that “reason” might be, it doesn’t mean as much. Yes, I have developed a great friendship with the two therapists I work with, but is that all?
No.
Today my session ran a little late (my shoulders were tighter than expected). I dressed in a hurry, worrying about the delay causing a problem for the next client waiting for her treatment. The waiting room was a little more crowded than usual, two women waiting on the couch. I usually would have not taken as much time getting out of there, and even offered to call back later to reschedule for next week. God wanted me to stay, though, and the therapist held me off for a few moments, comparing schedules and getting me my requisite post-massage glass of water. I was about to leave when one of the women burst into tears. Turns out that her quiet phone call in the waiting room was to a sibling concerning their sister—who had been told that depending on the surgery today, she would either survive her cancer for three weeks or three months. Ordinarily, sympathetic looks would be all that I could offer—the sobbing redhead was a stranger to me. A fellow client, but no real connection. God didn’t agree.
Before I knew it I was ministering to the woman, telling her my aunt’s story of a miraculous healing from cancer just about ten years ago. “God healed her. She had faith that she would survive, and in six months there was no trace of the cancers whatsoever—and the doctors still can’t figure it out.” Just this past March we had another scare with my aunt. There was a possibility that her brain tumor, surgically removed back in the 1970s, had grown back as her eyesight was once again diminishing. A specialist in Chicago stood dumbfounded as for no “medical” reason, the disruption in sight had disappeared and there was no trace of that looming tumor.
The crying woman gave me a big hug as she left, and later asked me in the parking lot for my name and phone number so I could try to get her family in contact with my aunt. “Thank you so much for sharing that,” she said while wiping her eyes. “It’s exactly what we’ve been needing.”
If I hadn’t been diagnosed with fibromyalgia two years ago, I never would have started getting massages. If I hadn’t build up such a great relationship with the therapists, I never would have seen them this often. If I hadn’t been slammed this week with responsibilities, I never would have made my appointment for this morning. That I met this woman in such great need, my story the exact balm necessary, can only be explained by the hand of God.
When it comes to accepting “there must be a reason” philosophies, leaving our faith in God for Him to show us in His time, be prepared for a wonderful and amazing experience. It may take months, years, or even decades, but everything will come together for His glory. Praise God, our Heavenly Father, in His infinite wisdom and grace.
Living with a disease like fibromyalgia is a study in patience and perseverance. Everything could cause pain, but not everything will all of the time. It’s so full of variables and unexplained phenomena that I’m constantly on my toes. Will I be able to climb the stairs today? Will sitting in my office chair suddenly cause stabs of pain in my hips? Will I get a migraine or not? There are no definite answers, no good “preventative” treatments, at least not for me. There is just my willpower that will breathe through the pain and the prescription narcotics for when it’s too much for me to bear. One thing does help: massage therapy. Going once a week to have these talented women work out my knotted muscles and address the misfiring nerves actually makes each week more livable.
Still, I wondered why God hadn’t healed me. I accepted long ago that there was a reason for this, but we all know how that goes. Without knowing what that “reason” might be, it doesn’t mean as much. Yes, I have developed a great friendship with the two therapists I work with, but is that all?
No.
Today my session ran a little late (my shoulders were tighter than expected). I dressed in a hurry, worrying about the delay causing a problem for the next client waiting for her treatment. The waiting room was a little more crowded than usual, two women waiting on the couch. I usually would have not taken as much time getting out of there, and even offered to call back later to reschedule for next week. God wanted me to stay, though, and the therapist held me off for a few moments, comparing schedules and getting me my requisite post-massage glass of water. I was about to leave when one of the women burst into tears. Turns out that her quiet phone call in the waiting room was to a sibling concerning their sister—who had been told that depending on the surgery today, she would either survive her cancer for three weeks or three months. Ordinarily, sympathetic looks would be all that I could offer—the sobbing redhead was a stranger to me. A fellow client, but no real connection. God didn’t agree.
Before I knew it I was ministering to the woman, telling her my aunt’s story of a miraculous healing from cancer just about ten years ago. “God healed her. She had faith that she would survive, and in six months there was no trace of the cancers whatsoever—and the doctors still can’t figure it out.” Just this past March we had another scare with my aunt. There was a possibility that her brain tumor, surgically removed back in the 1970s, had grown back as her eyesight was once again diminishing. A specialist in Chicago stood dumbfounded as for no “medical” reason, the disruption in sight had disappeared and there was no trace of that looming tumor.
The crying woman gave me a big hug as she left, and later asked me in the parking lot for my name and phone number so I could try to get her family in contact with my aunt. “Thank you so much for sharing that,” she said while wiping her eyes. “It’s exactly what we’ve been needing.”
If I hadn’t been diagnosed with fibromyalgia two years ago, I never would have started getting massages. If I hadn’t build up such a great relationship with the therapists, I never would have seen them this often. If I hadn’t been slammed this week with responsibilities, I never would have made my appointment for this morning. That I met this woman in such great need, my story the exact balm necessary, can only be explained by the hand of God.
When it comes to accepting “there must be a reason” philosophies, leaving our faith in God for Him to show us in His time, be prepared for a wonderful and amazing experience. It may take months, years, or even decades, but everything will come together for His glory. Praise God, our Heavenly Father, in His infinite wisdom and grace.
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