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Staying alive is hard work

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Staying alive is hard work. I could only dream of making some of John Travolta’s dance moves from his 1983 musical, “Staying Alive.” Right now, moving very slowly with a walker is all I can hope for.

I greet my elderly friends as I wait for my physical therapy. They come, hoping they might be around for a while. They are hurting and limping, but trying to stay healthy and alive with their weekly visits. Like me, their moral obligation is to these old, broken-down bodies, keeping them repaired and moving. Our spiritual obligation is to the Lord. He has been generous by giving us more days on this earth to witness His glory. We need to be faithful.

Also, we have a certain responsibility to our family and friends not to be a burden, but be as independent as we can be. Coming home with my physical therapist’s advice, I knew she meant business: “Your muscles need blood, oxygen and nutrients flowing through them to sustain them. Move those muscles or you’ll be ending your years in a wheelchair.”

After my visit, I stabbed at a routine of exercises, but fizzled out after a few days. I needed a plan. I had to put down my pride and reach out to my family. They have experienced some harebrain ideas from me before. They definitely will shake their heads, roll their eyes and laugh. They’ll chalk it up to another day in the life of their mother.

The therapist put the fear of God into me. I’ve got to get up and move, and walk the property. I can’t sit at my computer all day, which I want to do. I sent an email to the whole family to rescue me: “Family Members, will you spare fifteen minutes? Only one day a week. Come to my rescue? Insist that I walk with you. I will probably kick and scream. Don’t listen to me. Bring your walking shoes, take a little walk with me around the property and down to the river.”

I expected a reprimand. “Mother, I told you you’ve got to get away from your computer.”

I wasn’t scolded. Instead, I was encouraged by my family’s response.

I received a phone call immediately from my grandson, Creede. “Grandma, I will be there tomorrow.”

I told him, “I had to put down my pride and admit my flaws, as if they weren’t obvious. We want to be the hero in our children’s eyes.”

Two of my out-of-town grandchildren emailed, “When we’re there in July, we will walk with you. Take small steps until we get there.” I’m counting on those small trips around the property with my grandchildren to be a bonding opportunity.

I also received an email from my good friend and writer, Faith Richardson. She wrote, “You missed my story from the heart. Inspired by you and Helene, challenging me in how God would encourage me.”

Here are a few excerpts from her new project she is working on:

“Acknowledging the struggle: The journey has been hard. The Lake of Depression nearly drowned you. The Cliffs of Comparison almost pulled you over the edge. But you’re still here. Still walking. Still breathing. That alone is victory. Every step forward, no matter how small, matters.

“Validating the pain: The inflammation that screams with every step, I feel it. The exhaustion that makes even breathing hard, I know it. The trauma from the Cliffs of Comparison that wakes you at night, I see it. Your suffering is not invisible to Me. Your tears are collected. Your pain has purpose. One day, you will understand. For now, trust that I am working all things together for good.

“Addressing the body’s limitations: The body that feels like it’s betraying you, I knit it together in your mother’s womb. Every cell. Every nerve. The inflammation, the pain, the limitations, I see them. I am not punishing you through your body. The enemy is attacking what I made. But healing is coming. In My time, in My way. Until then, I am sustaining you. Also, don’t forget My strength is made perfect in weakness.”

Final brushstroke: Staying alive is hard work. Don’t get discouraged. As I read through Faith’s story, I knew she wrote every word to me. To all of you who are struggling, there is someone who knows what you’re going through. Put down your pride and tell someone. They are willing to help if they know.

Send your comment to bettyslade.author@gmail.com.

Views expressed do not necessarily represent those of The SUN.