The Fair Share

Well, I'd love to write this post from the Pinnacle of Health, but it's coming to you straight from Germdom. I've caught some rotten virus that's circulating in the area now, on top of the rotten allergies. Top that off with a new batch of swelling plus hives this time, and I'm not feeling very sunny. The allergist was more concerned about my swelling face than my allergies, so he sent me off for lab work, prescribed an Epipen so I can shoot myself in the leg if my throat swells, and told me to come back in two weeks. Then he'll stick me over and over to see what it is that I'm allergic to. I know how to have a good time.

On the upside, I've fallen in love with somebody new. Mucinex D is my airways' best friend now, and as much as I wanted a natural remedy to work, this has worked better than everything else combined. Except that I broke out in hives and my eye swelled shut in the night, so with my luck, I'm allergic to it.

I told my mom today that all of this is my sister Leslie's fault. For years she'd complain that everything always worked out for Chris and me. And she was right. We seemed to have it good all of the time. I think she jinxed me.

Right after I agreed with her, Caiden was born and we had a tough first year with him. Emergency surgery, hospitalization, multiple illnesses. I was the first of my siblings to have a baby, my parents lived 1200 miles away, and I didn't have a single friend who had children. It was rough.

Then he turned one, we moved, the dog got hit by a car and I lost all the keys to both the old and new houses, and the other dog turned neurotic--all in the same day, I think. Things like that should've clued me in that the tide had turned. I had a hard time getting pregnant with Grayson, Caiden turned into a naughty toddler and I was convinced he'd end up in jail (nothing like pregnancy hormones to turn a molehill into a mountain!), and then I had a baby who had acid reflux so badly he'd throw up half of every meal, day in and day out for 10 months. We contacted ECI because he wasn't even sitting up at 10 months, and then I found out I was pregnant (surprise!) Except my numbers were bad, and I spent a couple months terrified I'd miscarry. Add a killer case of poison ivy and no way to relieve it, because I was not only pregnant but still breastfeeding the other baby, and Leslie stopped telling me we had it made. Somehow I got the stomach virus 7 times in 6 months, on top of morning sickness that would not stop, we put our home on the market, and I gave up the notion of ever having it made again. And then, in an instant, life changed dramatically, and it hasn't been the same ever since.

So 2006 was tough, to say the least, and after weathering a newborn's open-heart surgery and pulling our home off the market, we ended the year with an episode of dog impaling (Leslie's dog, actually. Ironic, isn't it?). I told God that since the calendar year was over, and since it had been five years since our Series of Unfortunate Events had begun, I was officially over dealing with crises. I was ready for a break.

Somewhere in the heavens I should've heard laughter. 2007 was easier than 2006, but it still held a life-threatening bout of RSV for Addison, a broken foot and ensuing surgery for me, and the death of my grandmother. I knew better, on December 31st, to make any bargains with God this time.

See, the fact of it is that life is not "fair." Accidents and trauma and defeat are not spread evenly throughout the population, and some people seem to get far more than their share. You know somebody, I'm sure, who has been dealt more hardship than seems even possible, or maybe you're that somebody. And as hard as one person's challenges seem, there is always someone else whose story puts all others to shame. Sometimes I feel guilty, realizing how much worse life is for someone else, but the truth is that my hurts don't hurt any less. My fears for my children, or my weariness when dealing with sickness or tantrums or teething--those things don't pale in comparison, because this is my life. And sometimes just the daily hardships are heavy enough without adding everything else.

There have been times when I've wondered exactly how prayer is supposed to work. If God has ordained the events of my life, then does it really matter if I ask Him to find my keys, or heal my baby, or sell my house? Is it wrong to pray about something as insignificant as lost keys when others are facing death? And if He's going to do what He's going to do, what does it matter if I ask for something different?

My mom and I talked on the phone for over two hours this morning, about everything and nothing and all sorts in between. Nobody else on earth would be interested in our conversation. We talked about yarn, stitch patterns, retirement plans, potty training, homeschooling, decorating, Sacajawea--you name it, and we covered it. She didn't solve any of my problems; I was still itching with hives at the end of the two hours. I couldn't confirm for her whether she should buy the new chair or not; she was still undecided. Rather than plot or plan or solve, we just talked.

I wonder if God just wants me to talk to Him more. Not always seeking an answer or promise or solution, but just to talk to Him. Maybe He likes it when I ask Him to help me find my keys, because it implies that I know He cares about me, and because I acknowledge that He knows where my keys are and can help me find them. Maybe He likes it when I ask Him to heal my baby, give me direction, sell my house, make me stop itching. Not necessarily because He needs me to ask before He'll answer, but because He likes to hear my voice. He likes it when I talk to Him. But He'd probably like it if I'd just let Him get in a few words, too. I bet He'd like it if I went to Him just because I miss Him, like I missed my mom, and want to hear His voice. If prayer were more about communication than a to-do list, I might even find some of the answers I've been looking for, without even trying. It seems to me that might be the point of prayer--to continue a relationship, to make it more intimate and to nourish it.

There is a chance that from this moment forward, all will be smooth-going. My hives will heal, our house will sell, and I'll lose the same 10 pounds I've been fighting for a year and a half. But I doubt it. And honestly, I can't say that I want Him to fix every problem in my life. I can't say that I want to avert every trial and struggle. I learned more about Him--learned how much I need Him--during the months after Addison's birth. He teaches me so much during the times when I'm dismayed and out of options and run to Him in despair--not because He isn't willing to teach me in the easy times, but because my heart is raw and tender and ready when life stinks.

So life goes on, with bumps in the road that vary from pebbles to rocks to impassible boulders. I will get my share, and you will get yours, because somehow in His wisdom that's what He has decided, and it's not going to be any different until heaven. There the streets are paved with gold, no bumps allowed. It changes things, when I think about it. Maybe it is fair, after all. I live a life of less than a hundred years, occasionally dealing with hardship on varying levels, and then I transition to an eternity where there is no hardship, no tears, no hives. No, that's definitely not fair. It's way better than fair. I guess I don't want my "fair" share after all.