Monday, February 25, 2019

We have no alternators

An analogy came to me this week, and it fits so well.

It also makes me happy, because it is just so manly and mechanical, which is really not me. Mechanical and technical things are a clouded mystery to me and usually leave me feeling bewildered.

Here is the analogy, which is a very apt explanation of how we are functioning in this hard journey:

We are like cars that don't have alternators, and which have old batteries that can't hold a charge.

Now, for those like me who might not know what that means, here is my best explanation...

The way I understand it, an alternator is the thing in a car that works to recharge the car's battery while you drive. Without it, the charge in the battery would get used up, and the whole thing would just quit.

See that?

This is what it is like to be me these days.

My little battery doesn't hold a charge very well, and there is no alternator. It sounds as if our kids are experiencing the same thing. I think Michael took all of the alternators with him.

Anyone who does not have an energy-compromising health condition, or who is not walking a road like this, may not grasp how precious a commodity energy is.

It is the very stuff of life. It is the reason you are able to do anything that you do.

Without it, you literally cannot do anything.

Even before Michael's death this was an issue for me. My health issues, especially the issues with my adrenal system, left me with very limited energy resources. Adding catastrophic grief on top of that magnified those issues incredibly. I have very, very little to give. I have to manage my energy output, physically, mentally, socially and emotionally, with great consideration and care.

Sometimes, I can seem almost like my old self- cheerful, energetic, enthusiastic... but that has real limits. That only happens when I have had a very good charge poured into my battery, and often I have to do a lot of recovery afterward.

In our travels so far, we have seen very few of our people along the way. Partly, this has been a time apart for Lee and I to just be together. We needed this so badly. On the other side, it is very much about this energy issue. Most of the time, what we are doing is literally all that I can do.

We had a wonderful evening with wonderful friends back in December. That evening was a gift of grace straight from the hand of our loving God. What a blessing. We talked real things about our journey through the death of our son. You know it's God when you can spend an evening talking heart-deep about suicide and come away feeling peaceful, and like you've had a wonderful time.

Here's the thing, though. The only way I was able to do that evening was because I had sat in my recliner and rested all afternoon long. If we had gone for a hike or run errands in town (which would include casual social encounters) I could not have been engaged and present for that evening. I would not have had anything left to give. I had to stop moving and let my battery build up a charge, so I could have that wonderful time.

We saw some friends when we were in Arizona, which meant lovely, wonderful social time over the course of two consecutive days. These are friends who have poured deeply into my life over the course of many years. It was such a rich gift to have time with them. And then....I spent two solid days doing almost nothing but sleeping and resting. I have to charge my battery in preparation, and I have to take serious recovery time afterward, to restore my resources.

The time with all of these dear friends was so precious, and I am so thankful to have had it, but what it takes to make that possible is something I can't afford very often. 

It can be very hard. There are people I genuinely care about, who would like to be in closer contact, talking on the phone, encouraging one another and praying together. I want to be able to do this. And I simply can't. It hurts to not be able to engage with these women who matter to me, but I have to budget my resources with such care.

If I know that I'll be chatting with one of our kids in the evening, I don't do other phone calls during the afternoon. If we have been on adventures during the day, which means output of physical energy as well as casual spending of emotional energy, I don't have the wherewithal to sit down in the evening and write a blog post or a letter, or answer an email. It means the world to me, to hear from my dear people. I read their text messages and letters and emails eagerly. I am blessed and feel loved, and care deeply about what is happening in their lives....but sometimes it takes me a while to reply because the energy to do so has been used in other ways.

Partly, this is because my life right now is a life of constant togetherness. Lee and I have never had this kind of free, unlimited time together. It is such a blessing. It also means that I am with another human being nearly all of the time, and am investing social and emotional energy in interacting with him. It is good and right that he should have the lion's share of my time and energy right now. It is just a fact that this means less energy to invest in other things and other people.

I want to be doing so much more, but as my friend Teresa would say, "this is not your season for that." This is a season of rest. I have been taken out of my context, away from many dear people, away from my time commitments and involvements, and set aside in a quiet place. Why? To rest.

This is what I am beginning to see. My purpose right now, my highest priority, is to sit in the presence of my God, to curl up on His lap and be carried by His love; to be fully engaged in this precious time with my sweet Lee; to sit in quietness and to rest.

"For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, 'In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.'" Isaiah 30:15


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