Pegi Bricker
Hey, my dear readers.
This is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it. These are the words of my brother, Paul, to the Philippian church. This is also the day my Abba God decided to bring me into the outside world after forming me, knitting me, designing me to be me. Yes, happy early retirement age birthday to me!
I have relatives by marriage who would say that no rejoicing for me being born on this day is necessary; however, long-time and newer friends actually do smile when I am around. It is my hope my husband, adult children and especially my granddaughters would rejoice not only today but every day not just at the thought of me, but they would be joyful because they know Jesus as Lord intimately and that one sweet day, we all will rejoin to live joyfully, eternally ever after with Jesus.
No more goodbyes, no more funerals, no more tears, no more pain, what could be more joyful than that.
My thoughts this beautiful early spring morning are more about what I think when I consider my life, past and present. Am I rejoicing? I am now that I am writing this. Thirty minutes ago, not so much.
Waking up is hard for me. It’s painful and often disorienting. During the night, as a rule, I’m comfortable, sleep well, and since utilizing the bedside commode is uneventful; however, medications don’t last, and the sun must come up.
Once I’ve figured out my dreams aren’t my present reality and I realize what day it is, I have to figure out what is happening that day, is getting out of my bed actually necessary and do I smell coffee? I also wonder every, every, every morning if my legs will function.
Both legs, hips to toes, have no feeling, but unseen to everyone is the crazed pain of sitting too close to a campfire in shorts and no shoes with fire ants crawling, feasting on my flesh with ice cubes next to my skin wrapped in very snug Ace bandages. I really am not exaggerating. This pain is constant. This pain is very real. This pain is getting worse. This pain is relentless, and modern pharma isn’t up to the task.
Currently, I take four medications six times a day to, as my pain specialist says, “keep me from jumping into an empty swimming pool.” So far, so good. I also often wonder will I be able to use my cane today? Where is my cane? Should I use my walker? Should I just lay there and say, “Jesus, take the wheel.”
Back to my original thought of rejoicing, again, I say rejoice. Rejoice as in do it over and over again. For many years, I’ve gotten into the habit of doing leg, ankle and hip stretches before I get out of bed. While doing this, I really do try to thank God I’ve made it through the night. I also try to settle myself enough to ask for his plan to be my plan.
Often, I even go so far as to ask for divine appointments to be divinely assigned for me to share what Jesus has done and is doing in my life. This is not easy. The joy doesn’t come right away. Often in my heart, I question God’s plans for me. I ask, “Why?” I ask, “Why?” often.
Then I start to intercede for some of my family, friends, friends of my family or friends or maybe someone perhaps I have read about in The Tribune or a magazine. When I do that, my perspective quickly changes from my questioning God to thanking him because he really has given me a real, an important and an extremely vital mission to simply pray for others.
If my purpose in life truly is to please God like God’s word instructs and from what our pastor, Johnnie Spivey, has been teaching on for weeks, then I best stop saying, “Why,” and keep saying, “Who, Abba, needs you to touch their life today, and is there anything I can do to encourage them in this life to draw close to you?”
Having all this in mind brings me joy because he ain’t done with me yet.
Pegi Bricker is a Seymour resident who has lived with multiple sclerosis for the past 20 years. Send comments to [email protected].