We have a bonus guest post today from one of our members, Kim Hillier.

Fear

The hospital doctor walked in and sat on the empty bed next to me.  With few, emotionless words he told me all the tests were back and unfortunately, I would never walk again.  My sentence was pronounced and its bearer quickly left me alone.  He may not have been sympathetic or comforting, but he was clear.

Of course there’s a back story with details of how this all came about.  But to me, my entire past was obliterated by the choking, breathtaking, cold claw in my stomach as I thought only about the future.  The words slipped out of my mouth for the first of what would become thousands of times, “What am I going to do?”

I had carved a very satisfactory and independent life.  I had a good job, a nice home and commitment to many works for God.  The rest of this truth was my job was 55 miles away, my home was a second story condo and my works for God occupied all my spare time.  I thrived on constant activity.  As these thoughts rushed through my head, I began vomiting.  Screaming in my head was, “What am I going to do?”

As I began to digest the news, I noticed I was cold and shaking.  My head began to ache as did my chest.  I felt as if a sword dissected my head and continued down through my chest and gut and I repeatedly spoke the words, “What am I going to do?”

I had an unresponsive family and literally no one else.  I knew many, many people, but my busyness had prevented the development of close relationships.  Heretofore a generous salary covered my needs:  have a flat tire, call a wrecker; want to redecorate your house, hire a designer, etc.   My mind was attacked by a myriad of unknowns.

Who/How will…

~cover all my commitments

~lead the children’s church

~teach my classes

~visit the elderly

~emcee the Talent Show

~collect for the Rescue Mission

AFTER PONDERING THESE QUESTIONS, THE FEAR WENT AWAY BEING REPLACED BY SHEER TERROR.

 I BEGAN TO REALIZE THE MORE PRESSING QUESTIONS WERE…

How am I going to get to work?

How am I going to get up the six steps into my house?

How will I take a shower??? For that matter, how will I even get into the bathroom with its narrow door?

What happens if I fall?

Ad nauseam…

As things turned out, I never entered my home again.  Strangers packed me up and unpacked in a ground floor handicapped apartment I didn’t see until the day I moved in. I was put on long term disability and almost everyday I was visited by a therapist with glib words of encouragement.

Having fairly well conquered the routine of living I now was faced with re-learning everything.  I had a good memory and was used to learning things quickly.  Unfortunately my body had lost its memory and day after day I was forced to train it again.

I had never actually thought about the intricacies of my flesh.  When flare ups occurred (aches, colds, intestinal upheaval, etc.) I took a pill, blew my nose or kept the path clear to the bathroom.  I absolutely never thought about how these systems worked.  I was totally unprepared for the vast intricacies of our bodies.  I was in no way edified.  My body and its disease discussed me.  Whenever faced with a foreigner’s  touch, I recoiled.  I closed my eyes which often were tearing.  I wasn’t being hurt.  I was humiliated, mortified to be displaying my imperfection to strangers.  They were kind and efficient but nothing they said gave me comfort and peace.  I was damaged goods and always would be.

The nightmares were the worse.  Though different backgrounds, the story line was always the same.  I was in a secluded cubby with a bustle of people around me.  I had a desperate need to get “somewhere” but there was no one to help me.  I would scream, attempt to crawl towards help, throw loose articles around me.  But it always ended with the transit disappearing from sight.  I would wake up sobbing, choking out the words, “What am I going to do?”

One of my favorite past times was making plans.  I’d spend hours on creating unique parties.  (I would chose a theme and the decorations, food and games would all relate.  Some of the themes were a Children’s Party for adults (Can you still hula hoop?); a circa 1880s party (no item not available in 1880 allowed); a Capital Punishment party (the details of this very popular party are confidential).

But I couldn’t plan the next day.  I was left only to my thoughts.  I mourned what I had lost.  I often reminded God of all the things I used to be able to do for Him.  I never felt angry or punished, but the sudden change in my abilities seemed wasteful.  I’m not objective enough to rule out there was some pride in what did, but I also know I gave the best I had.

Worry and fear are vicious twins.  They both aim to diminish your very soul. I can personally testify they create confusion, shrink self-esteem, deaden optimism, plunge you into the depth of depression.

“What am I going to do?”

Miraculously I learned long before my season of fear, I had a Father who I knew would never leave me. I cried out often with anguish, terror, frustration, self-pity, confusion, disappointment. I knew He heard me.  I waited for an answer.  Sometimes my faith was weak, but with comfort from the solidity of our relationship, I endured.

After almost a year my life calmed into a routine.  The anguish was gone.  I still had bouts of fear, but I discovered something very helpful – I began reaching out to others who were experiencing drastic changes in their lives.  I had no answers for the hard questions, but I could understand and be an example of hope.  To this day, some 20 years later, I have a good life.  I remember the day I signed on to give my all to recovery, both physically and emotionally.

I was talking to God and because I am assured of His unconditional love, I asked Him once again, “God I still don’t understand why you put an end to all the things I did for you.”

I was silent as I waited for an answer.  It wasn’t audible, but in my soul I finally understood.

“You were doing things FOR me.  I wanted you to do things WITH me.  Isn’t this better?

The lingering fear fell from me and I reverently responded, “Oh yes.”