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Thankfulness is a choice

It’s early…7am early. Days start early on the mountain in our cottage. Bedtime in the fall and winter come early too. As the leaves turn, as the temperatures drop into the 40’s at night our home begins to close up. No summer nights under the stars with gentle warm breezes. Just the promise of a long winter. Mountains have a way of doing that sooner than later.

I am by nature a water/sky person. I love to be in wide open spaces and swimming in a body of blue. The lake is my playground, canoeing is my joy. It’s all winding down. My husband is working too many hours and so the canoe is laying sadly on its top. Too cumbersome for the 95 pound weakling to get her anywhere close to a body of water. It lays there calling my name.

I am choosing to be thankful. It is a choice. A choice to let seasons flow past and through  us, without complaint or despair.  A choice to live in the moment of this God-given day with thanksgiving.

I sit in the last of the glory of Indian summer on the mountain, sit in my blue robe and lavender PJ’s, wearing a “go granny” hat that is my comfort under the sun. I am reading and preparing for whatever comes today, whether good news or bad, whether what I think is fair, or what will be, I am thankful. Choosing it. Over and over thankful. God suggests (rather strongly I might add) that we “Enter into HIS courts with thanksgiving and his gates with praise” It’s this lighthearted way of telling us how to get over ourselves. We can ruminate in our troubles or we can choose thankfulness, every single moment of every single day. Does it mean that our feelings contrary to thanksgiving are invalid? Not at all. We can’t deny our runny nose when snot is running down our face. It is simply the answer to recognize his greatness. To recognize his ability to change anything in a nano-second. In the blink of an eye. That is Great news. It keeps hope alive. It brings light into our darkened mind and thoughts.

The phone rings and it is my last vestige of hope through medical means. The Dr (who charges $1500. for an hour) said it would take at least 4 months to stabilize me and 2 years to find my way back to some form of functioning. The sun is beating hard on me as he speaks, he sounds sorry, and he said as a” Dr myself, I am doing a pretty good job of navigating.” but I am in the last stages of adrenal failure with death being the end. My body is too weak to do much besides eat, rest and breathe. I remind myself as he speaks that it is also capable of prayer. Which is food for the soul, which strengthens the body.  It is food that is going to bring me up to strength enough to move into supplementation and hormones. That will probably take 3-4 months…. So I thank him and to the tune of $200 to speak with his wife next week who is a nutritionist,  I am on my own. I am sitting here understanding the limitations of modern medicine. The limits of our pocketbook to find actual hope. The understanding that adrenal dysregulation has been passed down to me by a family who died with every symptom of this. In those days it was spoken of in other terms. But they were all loaded for DNA bear. So I will have to process this latest news and try to not weep (which brings me more stress, which is the last thing I need right now). Since I was working on this blog prior to the phone call I wanted to finish it. So here you have it.

Except I am reminded yet again that I am never alone.   I am thankful for that. I am reaching hard to draw near to him who is beside me and within me. It’s the hope of the hopeless. It’s the promise of his love.

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