And the Refrigerator Quits Working

This morning, I am ashamed to admit, I was about to host my own pity party. 

Last Sunday I was pitching in at the last minute to tell a story to the whole kit and kaboodle of native children at the Winner mission church, (how I love to help in that way!) but this Sunday I was back home in Colorado trying to find my way around my own kitchen

in which the refrigerator had just decided to quit working.

My tailbone was still hurting from ramming it into a sharp corner in the travel trailer in South Dakota a few days ago while I was trying to mop up the gumbo-muddy floor, and the injections I've been getting for my cancer were really, really sore and uncomfortable. 

There were welts with rash where the injection sites were.

I was behind with a cancer treatment and had too much to do so I had to stay home while Jonathan took off for choir practice. 

The choir is practicing "The Hallelujah Chorus" for Easter, with Carrie playing the piano accompaniment, and I would have loved to be part. But I couldn't. 

I hurt, I was sore, I had too much to do, and my fridge had quit working. 

The worst part was watching somebody else right under my nose get to do what I love to do and can't do.  

I love music, guys, and I have to stay home making stuff for another miserable cancer treatment.

I was focusing on that instead of on how Jonathan had plowed in and cleared the whole freezer for me so that we could keep things cold in coolers while we defrosted the freezer to see if that was the problem.  

Usually I try to do all the kitchen work since he works all day to take care of me and the family, but today he got right in the middle of the mess and helped.

I was focusing on the clutter on the counter instead of--well, something more cheerful. 

I realized I was about to host a pity party.
I was really sinking into envy about something I wished I could do but couldn't while somebody else got to breeze along as usual. 

Should other people stay home just to join my pity party just because I have cancer and can't do the things I like to do?

Should I expect others to hover over me cooing their condolences just because every time I sit down my tailbone reminds me it hit something sharp a few days ago?

 

My kids are trying to be patient with me, even as I am with them. 

Rose let me know she was so glad we had come home, as they were getting lonely here. 

That totally cheered me because I was afraid they were just glad to be rid of their old mom who has cancer now, and then I come home and fall apart and they have to be patient with me and try to get me cheered up again.

If I fall off the cliff into a grumpy spell, it sometimes takes me a while to get out of it.  

But Rose's kind words pulled me right out. 

I am thankful I could still go to church, even if we did start a little late. I was pretty whoozy, and I was having a hard time getting up and down in church.

Sore tailbones and welts with rash, and weariness with overwhelm were getting to me. I was having a hard time paying attention to the sermon.

And then the preacher was getting ready to serve the Lord's supper.

"We don't come to the Lord's table because we are worthy,"he said.  "We come because we are forgiven." 

The rest of his message about Saul's conversion and St. Augustine's conversion and about our own conversions went sailing right over my head, but that one sentence, I could get.  

"Not because I am worthy, but because I am forgiven."

When the bread came by, I took my piece.

I'm not supposed to eat gluten, but I took a piece of bread.

I wonder, Lord, when I cannot eat gluten because of cancer, is it okay if when the time comes to partake of the bread, I just touch it to my lips and give it a silent kiss

to thank You for forgiving someone so unworthy as I?