Had a rough day?

This is not written in a spirit of complaint (I already did that earlier today…), but I need to record this so we can laugh more genuinely someday, as we look back on this debacle.

If you think you’re having a rough day…this might make you feel better:) Or, if your day was rougher, as I know that is possible, please know that I truly want to commiserate with you. You’re not alone or invisible. You are loved, and valued, and Life gets better. I know life’s going to get better…it HAS to😂. Nowhere to go but UP!! (Please know, I say that in jest.)

I have laughed a lot with Randy about this, but then I’ve done some crying (alone), as well. Imagine me telling you this story in my laughing and smiling voice, not my whiny one.

I’ve been looking forward to a Saturday outing this weekend, because there isn’t much time for fun during the week, and the daily list of things that MUST be done, is very mundane and each step is difficult. I was hoping to go to the movies today, and had decided that “Call of the Wild” appeared to be an adventure movie Randy would enjoy. Needing to leave an hour early, factoring the loading and unloading, we were ready to go. Once in the chair, we’ve got maybe 3 hours till he’s going to need to get out of the chair again due to pressure on his sitting bones, or because he needs to use the restroom.

Randy decided he needed to use the restroom (which, with transfers from chair to bed, any needed clothing changes, urinal, etc, takes at least half an hour, and maybe longer), which made us late to the movie by a couple of minutes. No big deal…we would miss all the ads and previews.

BUT…When I finally arrived at the theater, not a single handicap spot was available anywhere at that entire mall. Much less, a van spot with room for the ramp to come out. I decided maybe we weren’t meant to go to the movie and maybe we should try the park. Change of plans!

I picked up Whataburger for our picnic lunch, and got Randy a vanilla shake because I thought he would enjoy that more than a soda. I found a park not far from there and paid the five dollar entry fee, after being promised there were wheelchair accessible pavilions. I drove around that park 2 times, seeing seemingly happy families, all together, playing in the sun and fishing in the water. The weather was perfect! I’m telling you, as a 2 legged capable walking person, I would have never even thought about someone with a wheelchair needing access to that beautiful park…but I could not find a single place where I could possibly get my husband out of the van and through these narrow spaces in the fencing that are wide enough to step through but not wide enough for a wheelchair. The pavilions, lining the edge of the lake, had no paths to them, and were on raised concrete pads that his wheelchair could not traverse. Oh, how I wanted him to see this water, get some warm sunshine on his face and feel the wind in his hair.

I went back to the entrance, explained my predicament, and they were kind enough to give me my five dollars back. I found another park nearby, with pretty much same situation …but at least I didn’t have to pay five dollars to get in there. I did see 1 picnic table out in a relatively smooth grassy area, not too far from an opening in the fence, that I felt like I could probably push him through…but we would have to go over that grass to get to the table and it was downhill. It was my last chance to have some sort of outing-like experience, because the clock was ticking on how long he could stand the chair, and would need to be moved to a lying down position. We decided to try it!

I slung the Whataburger bag over the push-handles, but I didn’t have any way to push him and carry that vanilla shake, so I set the shake next to him. It fit just right, until he squeezed down on it with his elbow, crushed the foam cup against his side, and the ice cream came shooting out, all over his side and his lap. We laughed, and I apologized for not choosing a better storage spot, while I wiped him off with the only thing I’d brought…a blanket. I shoved the dry part of the blanket under his arm and across the wet clothing, so he wouldn’t be cold and pushed him across the grass (not as level as I had imagined), to the pavilion that we couldn’t manage to get ON to, but we’re able to sit NEXT to, in the shade. The sunshine on the water was a beautiful sight. I unwrapped our cold french fries and slightly soggy burgers, and we laughed some more, as we enjoyed the wind in our hair (that was more like gale force, and had just blown one of our food wrappers into the grass and quickly out of my reach). I was beginning to realize there was a giant chasm between my imagined picnic in the warm sun and gentle breeze, and the reality of these elements…surely you’ve been there, and know what I mean. Lovely as the day was, it wasn’t tranquil picnic weather.

I asked Randy if he saw the beautiful lake, and all the sail boats. He answered, “yeah”. I’m like, “You’re not even looking at the lake, you’re looking at your lap, honey…are you just lying to me?” He laughed and said, “yeah”.🙄

Razzing him a little, I said, “Randy do you just blow smoke all the time, and just placate me, saying ‘yeah’ to everything I say?” He said “yeah.”

Well, Ok! Glad we had this conversation!😂

In trying to secure the paper wrappers from flying away, I had set Randy’s french fries in his lap…bad idea. They toppled over onto the ground, and we laughed at the absurdity. “No big deal, Randy! I will share MY soggy french fries with you. Let’s not let anything ruin our 5 minute picnic!”

Then Randy got this huge sheepish grin on his face and said, “I have to poop.”

“Nuh-uh. You’re kidding, right?”

He laughed his contagious laugh, as an apology.

“Oh, boy. Randy that’s the only thing I don’t have any way for you to do here.” He continued to laugh, and I told him it was no big deal…we could leave and go back to the apartment…but it was going to take some time so I hoped he could hold it and be patient with me.

I packed up his uneaten meal, the part that wasn’t on the ground yet, and started trying to push him back up-hill in that dirt. I gotta say… I did NOT look that steep, when we were headed down! (There is a spiritual lesson for us, here.) I pushed him forward. I drug him backward. Every few inches I’d encounter an obstacle that kept us from gaining any ground. This was an ordeal, people! It took everything I had, not to let go of him and let him roll down that hill, as I was trying to find a way to get his wheelchair to inch forward across that uneven ground. At the bottom of that hill was a rocky cliff and a lake! Heaving with my might, I did actually manage to get him back through that tiny opening in the fence, and up to the concrete parking lot by myself. I was so proud of my accomplishment, and so relieved that I didn’t have to call 911 to come rescue me…as that was becoming my plan B.

About the last 10 yards of that literal uphill battle, an older (can I say, kinda rough looking?) gentleman on a Harley, with his wife (or maybe girlfriend) on the back, had seen me struggling (I must have looked pretty pathetic), circled back around, and pulled over to offer me a hand. It felt like God was saying, “You’re not alone”. By the time they reached me, I had accomplished the task, but I was so touched by their gesture, the Heavenly message it brought me, and the relief that we were finally on concrete, that I started to cry. They probably thought I was such a weirdo. Randy cracked up at the sheer ridiculousness of what had just occurred… and I suddenly realized he had been laughing the entire time I was pushing him up that hill.

We got loaded up in the van…which is easy for me, now. It used to be hard. That was a comforting thought. Maybe someday, pushing Randy’s chair uphill will be easy for me, too. Maybe carrying drinks and pushing his chair will be easy. I tried to laugh and sing to Merle Haggard songs with Randy all the way home, so he wouldn’t know that I was crying silently in the front seat.

I told him we’re should to try to go to the movies again this evening, so as to not let this experience defeat us. He agreed. I figured, since we had such a rough time, I bet we will appreciate it the next time that we go out, and don’t have so many problems. Our next date has to be better than this one, right? It can’t get a whole lot worse. 😂

As I’ve reflected on our experience, I have a few take aways that I believe will enrich my life:

*I am not entitled to have everything work out just because I have a good idea, and good intentions. God is not my genie in a bottle.

*Be more flexible. Choose joy while bending.

*Whataburger, though a yummy Texas (and other state) treat, has no picnic staying power.

*When you see something fun “not-too-far-downhill” in life, it might be an optical illusion, and much more difficult to get back on solid ground than you think. It turns out, the “something fun” may also be an illusion.

*Contrary winds may blow your food on the ground, but don’t fret…someone will share theirs with you.

*Randy needs an all-terrain-tank wheelchair to do and see the things that boy likes to do and see.

*In the last stretch of your struggle, God will send relief, often in the form you do NOT expect.

I’ve given a lot of thought to this “last stretch” timing, that the Lord seems to use. I see it in almost every one of my struggles…be it physical, emotional or spiritual. Why, I’ve wondered, does He wait SO LONG to rescue me? Why, in the darkest part? Why, in the hardest part? In Matthew 14, and Mark 6, it’s called the “fourth watch”. This is the time of night Jesus came walking on water to the disciples who were stuck out at sea in their fishing boat, after rowing against the gale all night long, in that horrendous wind-storm on the Sea of Galilee. We are told that he had watched them toil and row, and fight and work. Surely by 3am they were trembling with exhaustion, and about ready to collapse, and let the wind just carry their boat wherever it will.

I think I’m beginning to see. At the beginning of the battle, I don’t need God quite so much. I think I’ve got it. I still think there’s a way for me to muscle through. If He rescued me right then, I’d never really know what He saved me from, would I? I’d never really know the magnitude of His power…or mine. It isn’t until near the end of the battle, that I realize how hard the fight is, how hard I’ve worked (and a tinge of how completely incapable I am to finish or conquer)…It isn’t till I’m totally in it, that I can see how huge the giant actually is. Even then, He lets me keep fighting…for this is where I’m stretched, and toned for bigger, badder monsters down the road. And THEN, just when I’ve exhausted all my strength, and I’m about to give up, He shows Himself. And He shows Himself in a way that says, “ I’ve been here all along. You were never alone. I was just watching quietly. I was spotting you, letting you do all you could, but I’ve been here all along. And here I am, still. And everything is going to be OK. You did a good job. See? You’re stronger than you thought you were.”

When Jesus saves me that way, 2 things happen in me. One, is that my confidence and trust in myself is actually enhanced by the struggle. I surprise myself. Turns out, I haven’t suprised God, at all. He already knew what I was capable of. He just needed me to see it. The other thing that happens, is that, now that I know how big the giant was, and how hard the fight was, and how easily He swept it away, my confidence and trust in my God is enhanced in a powerful, indelible, unforgettable way. He’s BIG. He’s AWESOME. He’s UNSTOPPABLE.

So, since He’s there spotting me…I can try again. Yoked with Him, I’m unstoppable, too.

*