Weary

I'm having one of those days. One fraught with frustration and tired resignation. Telephone call after telephone call to sort out a problem with my prescription for migraine pain meds. I'm down to one pill, and stress can bring on a migraine. This is stressing me out.

And it calls to mind the frustration I have mostly buried and laid to rest--that of living in pain. Why? Why me? Haven't I had enough? I can't even take preventive meds, as I'm in the unlucky small percentage who suffers the worst of the possible side effects. These drugs have been frightening in their effects.

So, I deal with pain.

Mostly, I'm okay with it. I've made my peace with the situation. I can see tiny reasons for it sometimes. I've become the go-to girl for people in my church. I've had phone calls from frantic mothers and husbands asking what they can do for their loved ones in the throes of migraine. I feel good knowing that my experiences have helped someone else.

But I'm still tired of it all.

Throw a sick pet into the mix now. I walked into my bedroom late this morning, and I smelled it. Calvin had peed on the bed. Again. The perplexing part is that he just saw the vet on Friday, and his urine sample was clear of the bladder infection he's been battling. So why would he pee on the bed if he doesn't have an infection anymore?

Oh, yeah. It's raining today.

I started noticing about three years ago that he gets cranky and restless when it rains. As his kidney disease has progressed, he's no longer restless from rain; he's puny. It's obvious on these days that he's sick because he acts the part. It breaks my heart for him, and I feel guilty that I'm irritated at having to wash all the bedding again.

The truth is, I'm tired. I'm tired of dealing with sickness, whether it's mine or the cat's. I'm exhausted by the doctor's visits, the insurance company hassles, the embarrassment I feel when my amiable cat goes into kitty-smackdown mode with the kind people at his vet's office because he's sick of it all, too.

It's one of those days in which I need extra encouragement. I pull out the rubber stamps, pretty papers, and inks and get to work making some bookmarks with bible verses that speak directly to my weary heart. A reminder that I have a Savior who cares--a Savior who took on far more than I'll ever have to so that I can have hope, joy, a home in eternity, a future free of pain. A Savior who can give rest to the burdened heart.

I find a certain peace in the act of creating something. It gives my mind someplace to go besides focusing on the day's frustrations. I concentrate on the words of the scriptures I'm working with, and I'm buoyed ever so slightly by their meaning. I look over at my cat who doesn't feel well, and I pray for him. I pray for myself.

And I give thanks.