If you’ve ever been to a church service, especially around the holidays, guaranteed you’ve heard about the dismissive inn keeper that turned a pregnant Mary and Joseph away as they searched for shelter in the middle of the night.
Stay with me….
Two weeks ago my fiancé, AKA Babe, came down with an illness. Nothing serious, just one of those yucky-sorta-illnesses that turn your lips pale. He started his descent Thursday and by Saturday he was a mess. We were invited to a family function, which we had to miss; therefore, no one was around.
I found myself alone with this helpless, sickly soul. You would think my loving instincts would have kicked into gear, and I would have rushed to his aid.
I hate to disappoint, but I morphed into Drizella Tremanine (One of the stepsisters from Cinderella)
I got silent, lips pursed and pouty. I was PISSED! Every response he made was disregarded by my sharp, rattlesnake responses.
What the heck was happening to me?
Why was I acting this way?
In the moment, I knew I was wrong, but I couldn’t shake off the piss-poor attitude!
Has something similar happened to you?
If wedding vows were run on a trial basis, I failed… “in sickness and in health”!
How could I be SUCH a JERK, to a man that has stood by me through my worst, and is still standing by me through a medical condition that appears to be incurable.
SO CRAZY. I got the chance to redeem myself when this illness reared it’s head this past weekend. I was better, but my performance was still disappointing.
We can’t grow unless we reexamine the demise…
- Babe got sick.
- I turned into a beast.
- I had a moment of clarity and walked to the local store to retrieve chicken soup, sprite, and ginger ale.
- Babe was thankful.
- I was pumped I was able to walk to the store to retrieve the items he needed.
- Babe wasn’t getting any better.
- I morphed back into Drizella.
If we were preparing to cross-examine the accused, we would find testimony 5-7 interesting.
I got pumped because I was able to walk to the store, (I don’t drive because of my condition) and retrieve the items babe needed. When babe didn’t get better, I got pissed.
Yoda to my defense…
Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.
I got scared! I often feel defenseless because of this chronic illness, and babe is ALWAYS there to guard and protect. His illness left me venerable, and that venerability turned into fear which morphed into anger.
His illness shed light on my own insecurities and inabilities to be a proper caregiver. I wouldn’t have been able to rush him to urgent care. I was only able to walk to the local mini-mart to retrieve comforting items, which did not include a pharmacy.
What if my condition prevented me from walking that day? FEAR turned into ANGER, which was misguided and placed onto him!
I’m not sure why that inn keeper turned Mary and Joseph away, but I have to make sure I don’t follow suit and slam doors on my blessings because I’m vulnerable and scared.
Maybe it’s time to put some energies into planning for emergency preparedness in our home?
PS: Raise your hand if you are a work in progress!