Re-purposed Pottery

I used to have something to contribute.  I once ran 6 miles a day and loved every minute of it.  I ran an office for a state-wide medical practice and I was good at my job.  I headed up ministries at church and was the one that people could always count on to get things done and pull off difficult tasks.  I was the mom that had well-behaved children that other people wanted as their children’s friends.  I was the friend that would be there in the middle of the night to lean on or the one that showed up with a fresh home cooked meal flowers when someone was having a rough day.  I was respected.  I was hard-working.  I was efficient.  I was compassionate and caring.  I was known for my great cooking. I was intelligent and well-versed in cultural things and the arts.  I had something to give, to offer to others.  I had something to contribute to society.  

That has all passed.  It all hit me today.  I used to have a whole other life, and now, it’s hard to even imagine it was once the life I lived.  What do I have to offer?  What do I have to give?  Yes, I still make the best chocolate chip cookies around, but how often do I actually have the energy to make them?  I ran a very busy medical office with efficiency and ease, yet now I can’t seem to stay on top of the laundry or the dishes.  On days like this, I feel like I’m almost worthless.  I know in my head that it’s not true, but when I look around this house and my life, I’m left wondering what benefit I am to those around me.  One day I was dancing at my niece’s wedding and the next day I was in an ambulance on my way to the ER because every time I sat up I would pass out.  Yes, there were things going on under the surface, but I still somewhat felt like I could eventually manage things.  Then the little bit of normalcy I was holding onto was ripped away.  Suddenly I couldn’t drive.  I could hardly stand.  Trying to get from my bed to the bathroom took considerable effort.  Eventually I was able to get out again, but I had to use a wheelchair.  I will never forget the day I went to the zoo with my family.  I was so very excited to actually do something with my family again, yet as we waited in line at the ticket counter a pang of jealously pierced through me.  I saw moms walking with their kids and not thinking twice about pain and fatigue.  These illnesses took so much from me.  I was alive, but the life I knew was gone.

So today when my daughter jokingly said something about me losing my mind if I worked in an office, it opened an old wound I didn’t even know was there.  Everything that has happened with my children has kept my mind focused on a thousand other things.  Truthfully, I know that I am blessed.  I have come a long way since I was first diagnosed.  I am not bed-bound and I don’t need a wheelchair, except for specific occasions.  I even let my handicap placard expire.  I just miss the feeling of being respected and valued by other people.  I know that sounds so very superficial, but it is true.  I just want to feel like I have something to offer.  A contribution to make.

As I re-read over these words, I realize that this was exactly where God needed me.  Even after my world came crashing down around my feet with my daughter’s disclosure, I was still trying to hold everything together.  I still pasted the smile on my face and was trying to glue all the pieces back where they belonged.  God needed me completely broken.  He needed me to be hopeless.  I had to stop trying to hold it together and just fall apart.  Then HE could start putting the pieces back, but He was creating something altogether new.  Yeah, there are things I miss about my old life, but my Father has given me something better.  It’s a hard difficult, painful, and sometimes lonely life, but He has drawn me closer to Himself.  He has opened my eyes a whole group of hurting people who have been very overlooked by most churches.  So what is my contribution?  Nothing.  I have nothing to offer, except just being the clay in His hands.  Maybe right now I am just a colorless blob on the Potter’s wheel, but I will let Him shape me into something that can be used.  I don’t know what all of this pain will bring down the road, but He is the master of taken “useless” things and giving them value beyond measure.  It may be messy right now and I simply cannot see what good, what beauty could come from it, but I will trust His hands.