THE STORY OF JOB

You know the story of Job; he's a prosperous and righteous man. God tests his faith by sending Satan to do his worst - disease, boils, poverty, the death of his children. Job stands up to it all. So, there I was, kneeling in front of the toilet, cursing my bad luck - a badly broken foot, melanoma surgery, and now an illness that drained me of all dignity and joy. I shook my fist in the air and, like Scarlet O'Hara, swore, "With God as my witness, I will never eat solid food again!" Needless to say, it was a long night. About 4:00 am, I woke up on the bathroom floor, shaking so hard from dehydration that my head had cracked on the tiles. I pulled myself up to the sink and tried cupping my hand under the faucet for a few sips of water. That didn't go down well, so I crawled on hands and knees back into bed feeling alone, sad, and sorry for myself. I wrapped my warm feather comforter around me, fluffed up my favorite pillows, and asked myself, "Dammit, could it get any worse?" Oh, Colleen, look around you! Half the people on Earth would long for just one night in this luxurious bed with your feeble little list of complaints.

Of course it could be worse, but it isn't. I am not Job. This shaking is not Parkinson's. My shaking will go away in a day or two. My children are healthy and happy. Tomorrow, the boot comes off my injured foot to be replaced by a stylish post-op shoe. I'll be strolling through life again soon. And my melanoma has not metastasized, so I don't have to undergo chemo or radiation, which would make me this nauseous and sore for months. In my agnostic fashion, I am blessed. My faith in the beauty of this life gifted to us, and in the power of love, has been restored. And, God, if there is a God and you're out there listening... Um ... You can skip the boils, okay? 
~ cfd
11/5/15