I refuse to stay in the Pit of Despair!

 

Depression is often related to one having a sense of loss to something dear to them. In my case I am grieving the loss of my adult children's affection and the feeling that to them I am already dead. I have been tossed out like an old shoe.

Second is the fact that they aren't very nice people and I suspect that one way or the other, I have failed as a mum...

So I had a time of prayer and during that I felt that as far as mothering goes, how they now act as adults is not my fault. I know now that God knows I did bring them all up in the faith and they were taught to be honest and decent people.

I have now decided that I will not stress about not seeing my new great granddaughter or even grandchildren...  it is pointless to bond with them when I wont probably see them... I will not waste my last few years waiting for a word from them or even acknowledgement that I exist... if they cared, they would call 

So now I am going to move forward and enjoy as much as possible those who do love me and want me in their life... 

The hardest lesson I think was to realise that my love for them is not reciprocated and I am not  important or valued much in their life at all. It's a bitter pill but once taken, it helps alleviate the grief of unrequited love... 

So I am going to move forward and start thinking of positive things, like Chris and those in my family who do love me...  

Another lesson was that even though I have no expectation of a relationship and have pulled back to stop hurting, it does not mean I don't love them... it just has to be from afar as they are toxic to me. At this stage of my life, I just need peace. And that doesn't mean  I am selfish...

I refuse to stay in the Pit of Despair!

 

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth. Psalm 71:9

Our gracious God

 

When we get older we often lament our mistakes and wrong choices, and I know that these regrets are not confined to the elderly- we all have them. 

It is comforting for me to remember that our God is a God of grace and mercy. He is quick to forgive and then forgets... 

We are loved immensely in spite of our foibles and mistakes.. what a wonderfully gracious God we serve...

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him. Isaiah 30:18

Whatsoever things

 

As I got older, I became morose and sad.  My good years were behind me.  Chronic illness overtook my and I resented it so much.  It turned inward and made me sink into a depression.  

I overcame this by deciding to accept my limitations and to love myself enough to rest, eat well and be grateful for the very fact that I was still alive.  

I didn't want to stay in the Pit of Despair, so I gave all my anger and sadness to the LORD.  I decided to look at whatsoever things were lovely, and to count my blessings.. 

This helped me recover spiritually and emotionally. I didn't realise how much my self talk and negativity had brought me down.

If you want to fly, you have to release your burdens so they don't weigh you down,  so tell the LORD about it, for it is He Who will release you and help you fly.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. Philippians 4:8

Help until He comes

Today was a busy day in that I was organising aged care help for Chris and I ... we arent coping all that well... lots of phone calls that had me on hold for at least an hour each 

After nearly a whole day on the phone, I am happy to report that we were approved for help. Our aged care home package will start in 3-4 weeks. It includes transport, home maintenance, podiatry, and grass cutting. Later on as we get older it will include meals on wheels... but as long as I can cook, we would prefer our own cuisine. 

I am hoping that God takes us Home soon. That is the best thing to dwell on. But meanwhile, while we wait, my house could do with a deep clean, our toenails are feral and we need them properly done. We cant take a bath and we help each other shower but a grip bar and telephone type shower have been promised to us under home maintenance, and that would stop the suffocation feeling of water pouring over our head when we can't breathe at the best of times.. 

We cant drive most times and we will need transport for a personal consultation with our doctor and the help they offer is needed now.  Nothing to do with lack of faith or not watching- but we have to be practical. 

Heart failure is a beast that stalks us both and is a progressive disease. Peripheral neuropathy in our feet and legs is a constant pain that stops sleep.  A physiotherapist may be able to help or offer exercises to alleviate it.. all things that need attention now. 

Including last but not least, changed bed linen that can be done without banging gnarled fingers and hands... and while we look with anticipation and longing to be Home, the daily necessities of life are calling. 

We rely on God to help us and are grateful that He has blessed us with the help we need...until He comes. Our life style is always if the LORD wills.... we consider ourselves blessed that we are eligible for the help that's come our way, until He comes! God willing, it will be soon. But if not, we will be accepting help to keep going until He comes.

 © Glenys Robyn Hicks

" So teach [us] to number our days, that we may apply [our] hearts unto wisdom" Psalm 90:12

We have to talk

So I am aging, overweight, have had over 50 kidney stones and 5 surgeries to remove them when they were impacted, and have given birth to 6 children.

Because of this, I used to find that a sneeze could have disastrous results, causing me embarrassment and discomfort as I wet myself. So much so, that I went to a physiotherapist who taught me how to exercise my pelvic floor using Kegel exercises.   They helped me quite a lot.

Nothing else has changed - one cannot change the past- but the only difference was my consistent Kegel exercising. This is for men as well as women, I was told. Anyway, I recommend them to everyone who has stress incontinence.

However, as much as Kegels have helped me, I have noticed that when I am in a flare of fibromyalgia, often I rediscover the joys of stress incontinence. 

It seems to me that fibromyalgia weakens my muscles in my pelvic floor and causes lack of control of the bladder. Just another problem fibro brings that many don't recognise or talk about.

I have purchased some undergarments that absorb urine yet look like normal underwear  I wear them when I am in a fibromyalgia flare, and they do a great job. (There are similar ones for men) It seems lately as I am in almost a constant state of flaring, that I am wearing them more often. 

It's just another pain for us Fibromites to endure, and I hope by sharing about this, it helps you if you have the same problem. It's nothing to be ashamed of and it's something we need to talk about.

Thrown out like an old shoe.

As you know, I have just turned 70.  It has been a rough ride yet filled with lots of joy and blessings.

A lot of the joy in my life has been my children, grandchildren and now great-grandchildren. I loved everything related to motherhood...

I had four children under five years and it was a very busy time. Especially with illness that lodged at our house in the form of my spinal disease, glandular fever and depression.

As a mother at 19, I accepted the responsibility of motherhood and I brought up 4 children under 5. At the tender age of 39, I welcomed my first grandchild into the world. I cared for her during her first year due to her mother being unwell with post natal depression.

As my children and now adult grandchildren grew, I was still involved in their lives if I was wanted. And I was wanted, or so I thought.

I thought I was a caring, loving woman who gave kind and solid advice if asked. I did my best to help and support them in times of trouble. I cried for them. I prayed for them. 

Recently, I have noticed a drop off of contact, both personal and by phone or computer. I am texted for my birthday, Christmas and other occasions of interest like Mother's Day.

I long for them to just drop in and sit and have a cuppa. It rarely happens. Not like when we regularly had lunch or a cuppa together, but since Chris and I are now unable to leave home due to not being able to walk or drive, we don't.

I see now that a lot of this is because they have to come to us now, not us go to them. We're an inconvenience.

It hurts. It isn't easy to sit alone reminiscing about your younger days, loving your now grown children and grandchildren and being passed over and ignored. 

It hurts that because of health issues in old age, one is condemned to days of loneliness and longing for the phone to ring or a text on social media.

And social media sometimes is employed simply as a way of following family and saving pictures of them and their children. At least one feels that there's still some connection.

Knowing that you gave your best years to your family with little to show in return brings a real wave of sadness- because you know you would do it again if given the chance.

But there's no second chance in old age. One is forgotten as the world turns on the axis of youth. The elderly are ostracised and abandoned... thrown out like an old shoe.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth. Psalm 71:9

Dead tired

A woman who suffers from a chronic illness or disability often finds herself at the end of "normals'" ideas of being tired. We are often looked at with contempt for being so tired that we can't perform our daily duties properly. Or that we have to go to bed early, rise late, or cancel social engagements at the last minute. We are not lazy. 

Before Corona, we were regarded with suspicion when we couldn't make it to church regularly and people harshly judged our spiritual health, deeming us backslidden.  Emotional and spiritual hurt exacerbates our ill state. We feel worse and they lack compassion.

Often we have to cancel doctors' appointments because we are too sick to get there. We find we can't drive and even if we could, we haven't got the strength to even get washed and dressed. It is not unheard of that some of us have crumpled in the shower, unable to get out and totally winded...

Our "tired" goes far beyond a sleepiness or drowsy feeling. We are so fatigued that breathing is too much effort and not for the first time we are grateful it's automatic.

Furthermore, our "tired" is not helped by a nanna nap or even 9 hours of sleep.  We fight our illness and pain even in our dreams and wake up unrefreshed and have to face another day when we haven't recuperated from the day before. We simply have run out of spoons.

"Tired" is overused and doesn't come close to the bone sucking quagmire of desperate fatigue we chronically ill people find ourselves sinking into constantly.  To have "normals" flippantly say, "Me too!" when we tell them we are tired invalidates us and makes us long for their brand of tiredness that can be restored through a good sleep.

We cannot even enjoy a shower or bath to help us sleep as the effort it takes to do this not only drains us of whatever energy we can find, but does not always bring a restorative sleep. Just muscle pain.

Such is my own pain on going to bed that I find I cannot place my arms anywhere comfortable. My fibromyalgia and polymyalgia rheumatica make it impossible to raise my arms upwards and extending them hurts my muscles and tendons. So I go to sleep with my arms folded on my chest.

I indeed look like a cadaver which has been laid out and testifies somewhat to the feeling of being dead in my tracks.  Because that's the type of exhaustion we face every day: we truly feel dead tired.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth. Psalm 71:9

Giving the gift of time well spent

As most of you who follow my blogs know, Chris and I not enjoying the best of health. We both are currently battling heart failure, diabetes and obesity brought on by the inactivity that comes with pain and age.

Gradually as the maladies make themselves more known and felt, we are aware that we probably won't make it to our 80th year.

Lately we have written a will and talked to our adult children of our final wishes. Unable to bear being apart, we have decided that we both want to be buried together, and to this end, we are currently getting information about prepaid funerals and plots of land at our local cemetery.

We have discussed Do not rescusitate orders and made our wishes known to our children. They were hesitant to talk about these matters, but we assured them that we need to sort it out, afterwhich we won't talk about it.

My stents in my heart are 15 years old and I am told I need new ones inserted, but I have refused  them as the previous 2 angiograms injured me. I simply don't want to have more surgery.  

Chris and I have made the choice that there won't be any more harmful surgeries. If I have a bad heart attack I do not want to be rescusitated.

I am ready for Jesus to either take me in the Rapture or call me Home. Either way is OK.

Chris is in really bad health with his own heart failure. I am aware of how little time we may have and I don't want to waste it.

So I am on the computer about an hour instead of all day. I have culled most groups etc but have not culled my friends.

Chris promised me he will update if I go Home. We just cant bear any more hospitals and tests etc- especially when they have done me harm in the past.

I am trusting the LORD instead of man and for the one who is left behind, we are giving the gift of time well spent.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints. Psalm 116:15

When the fog clears, tea's on the list.

 

Recently I have been having trouble remembering things. At nearly 70, I worry about dementia and think that maybe I am going down that path.

But in talking with people who suffer from fibromyalgia like I do, I realise that fibro brain fog can make one forgetful. Especially during flares.

Having just moved house about 6 weeks ago, I am just starting to recover physically. I have a flare that is pretty constant with no spoons and I do forget things. And words mid sentence.

I don't think me forgetting to order tea in the online grocery order really means I  have dementia. I guess fibromyalgia flares can do that.

Looking through Marketplace the other day, someone was selling a bassinette identical to the one I had for my 4 children. It brought back memories like they were only yesterday.

But that didn't make me feel very at ease about my forgetfulness because dementia robs one of short term memory. But then so does fibromyalgia.

Considering all my previous times of brain fog during a flare, and my subsequent good memory, I surmised that it was not dementia, but brain fog from said flare. 

I believe when the flare abates, and the fog clears,  I will remember the tea in next week's shopping list. 

We aren't just tired: we're dead tired

A woman who suffers from a chronic illness or disability often finds herself at the end of "normals'" ideas of being tired. We are often looked at with contempt for being so tired that we can't perform our daily duties properly. Or that we have to go to bed early, rise late, or cancel social engagements at the last minute. We are not lazy. 

Before Corona, we were regarded with suspicion when we couldn't make it to church regularly and people harshly judged our spiritual health, deeming us backslidden.  Emotional and spiritual hurt exacerbates our ill state. We feel worse and they lack compassion.

Often we have to cancel doctors' appointments because we are too sick to get there. We find we can't drive and even if we could, we haven't got the strength to even get washed and dressed. It is not unheard of that some of us have crumpled in the shower, unable to get out and totally winded...

Our "tired" goes far beyond a sleepiness or drowsy feeling. We are so fatigued that breathing is too much effort and not for the first time we are grateful it's automatic.

Furthermore, our "tired" is not helped by a nanna nap or even 9 hours of sleep.  We fight our illness and pain even in our dreams and wake up unrefreshed and have to face another day when we haven't recuperated from the day before. We simply have run out of spoons.

"Tired" is overused and doesn't come close to the bone sucking quagmire of desperate fatigue we chronically ill people find ourselves sinking into constantly.  To have "normals" flippantly say, "Me too!" when we tell them we are tired invalidates us and makes us long for their brand of tiredness that can be restored through a good sleep.

We cannot even enjoy a shower or bath to help us sleep as the effort it takes to do this not only drains us of whatever energy we can find, but does not always bring a restorative sleep. Just muscle pain.

Such is my own pain on going to bed that I find I cannot place my arms anywhere comfortable. My fibromyalgia and polymyalgia rheumatica make it impossible to raise my arms upwards and extending them hurts my muscles and tendons. So I go to sleep with my arms folded on my chest.

I indeed look like a cadaver which has been laid out and testifies somewhat to the feeling of being dead in my tracks.  Because that's the type of exhaustion we face every day: we truly feel dead tired.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth. Psalm 71:9

Only precious to us

Have you wondered why old ladies are always talking about the past, boring you with endless stories of  their family? Every birthday, Nana or Grandma recounts the birth of your father or uncle or mother? or even you. 

Are you bored with hearing about how hard life was in the Depression of the 30's and how they never had many labour saving devices and appliances like we do now? How about when they had cash in their purse or wallet, and plastic cards were unheard of..

As an older woman nearly 70, I do exactly that, I know I do. Every birthday I find myself telling my adult children about their birth, weight, length, good looks and how much I love them.

I often reminisce about their childhood and our homes and life back in the day. Sometimes they don't even try to hide the fact that I am boring them. Yet to me, talking of these things comes as naturally as breathing air.

It's never a productive day if I find myself culling double ups of my online photos. I spend so much time reliving bygone days and sometimes it actually depresses me. Nostalgia can do that.

Why does it depress you? you ask. It depresses me because a lot of the people in the photos have passed. Some family in pictures- mainly cousins- no longer keep in touch in spite of me reaching out via FaceBook. They simply aren't interested in being a family anymore.

I relive certain times and wish I had or hadn't done something or other, knowing that such thinking is futile  because we did the best we could with what we had at the time. It has to be enough to know that.

It hurts me to see pictures of happier days when I babysat grandchildren and those same grandchildren now grown, don't bother to ring me or call in. Yes, yes, I know they have busy lives, but I did too back then and I still found time for them.

It is sad when I am not even invited to theirs or my grandchildren's birthday parties, having been the organiser and host of so many of them for them and their friends at their birthdays. But like an old shoe, I have been cast off to be forgotten.

It doesn't help when one gives their children their baby albums and Infant Welfare Record Books, with locks of hair and tiny wrist band from the hospital- only to find they have been thrown out and not cherished like you did for many many years. 

Precious memories are all we really have, us old ladies. The saddest thing of all is discovering that they are only precious to us.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone. Psalm 71.9

The only nice thing about it

So we went to the doctor yesterday to get our results from blood tests taken a few days ago. My blood pressure was 140/90 which was slightly better than last time, but still high.

He asked was anything bothering me and I had to tell him I am worried about Chris. Both of us have heart failure, high blood pressure, diabetes and cellulitis plus I have fibromyalgia. 

We both have pitting oedema on our feet and legs and the fatigue that comes from obesity and feeling sick. Dressing and showering is shared in that we help each other and because of exhaustion from showering, we shower every second day, taking opposite days. That way, we can help each other.

Our love language is touch in the form of massaging each other's feet and legs and our speech revolves around spoons and how much sugar is in everything that passes our lips.

We rarely leave home any more except for the doctor or chemist and our rubbish bins go out more than us. The highlight of our day is to discover we don't have any appointments or need a blood test. We are extremely relieved to know we can just stay home and have a PJ day.

It is unusual to call on us and not find at least one of us having a nana nap, particularly if we haven't slept well the night before.

When massaging Chris's feet or watching him sleep upright so that he doesn't feel like he's drowning in his fluid, I become anxious about how ill he looks and I fret that I will lose him.

I can't bear to think of that and when I do, I have to give it to the LORD in prayer and trust that He will grant us more time together.

All this angst does nothing to alleviate my fibromyalgia pain or help me get over a flare and I find myself taking mild pain relief every 6 hours. As the doctor advised.

Our home is able to be company ready in half an hour as it is basically tidy all the time. True, there may be slippers in the lounge or a cup on the table, but this can easily be fixed. I just close our bedroom doors to hide the permanently clean but unmade beds.

We love our home as we feel it nurtures us and even though we only may be gone a few hours when we have to go out, we find we are really looking forward to coming home again.

When we were engaged, we agreed that it would be nice to grow old together and we have. Twenty-five years later, it isn't so nice. But thank goodness we have each other and that's the only nice thing about it.

I'm happy to be an empty-nester

Whilst I do miss the "good ol days" when my children were young, I am so glad that it's over now. I don't think I could cope with it. Having an empty nest does have some advantages: our routine doesn't have to be as inflexible as when we had young ones to look after.

Meals are pretty impromptu affairs. We may plan to have such and such for dinner, but then decide either we aren't hungry or we may eat something like rice bubbles for dinner. Also, the meal hours are according to how we feel. And if I don't feel up to cooking, we will have a frozen dinner. We couldn't do that with young ones.

Bedtime hours are also more flexible as we go to bed when we feel like it. If I can't sleep it's no big deal to get up and make us a cup of tea and go back a few hours later. Waking up late is no problem either, neither are nana naps anymore. I take them as required.

I don't think I would make a good mother these days: Xena often wakes me up to feed her and I feel quite annoyed. I suppose it would be different if it were a child.  

There's also a good reason for menopause: I think if I had a baby now I would forget where I had put it.  And now with fibromyalgia fog, I know I would! 

So even though I miss some aspects of my young mothering days, I am totally content with the flexibility empty nesting has now in my latter years. Besides, I couldn't stand being asleep while the teens get ready to go out. And forget about waiting up all night for them to get home safely. 

No, sometimes I am mighty happy to be an empty-nester! 

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven: Ecclesiastes 3:1

Big Brother has got us covered

My twin sister has lupus but she has no mental impairment with it. The other day, she received a letter from the Australian Government body called Aged Care. They informed her that she was to attend a meeting of a panel of health care professionals who would discuss her ability to stay in her own home. The final decision would be taken by them and not including her, and would involve her moving into a nursing home. This in spite of sharing a home with my son as her carer.

Shocked, she rang them and said not to bother. She didn't want their help. I am also getting Home Help from the same Body and I rang to cancel my records with them. They said they could make my record inactive which meant no one can access them, but as they became property of the Commonwealth of Australia, they couldn't be deleted.

I got them to make mine and Chris's records with Aged Care inactive and my sister did the same. It means that I no longer am eligible for Home Help and I am now paying privately to have a cleaner once a fortnight. It is a small price to pay in my opinion.

We cannot get over the high handed methods used by the Australian government in denying a client in their Aged Care plan their right to make decisions in their own life when there are no problems with that client's acuity.

When important decisions have to be made, Chris and I will consider all our options and cover it in prayer for guidance. We will not let some strangers take it out of our hands.

Sadly, Australia is now becoming an authoritarian regime and Big Brother has got us covered.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone. Psalm 71.9

Sometimes you just have to move to another beach

So, I was just sitting having a cuppa, thinking about previous years, mulling over my life. It seems that when you are nearing 70 that you have the time and length of years to do so.

My beloved husband, Chris has just turned 71, and I was reflecting on our 23 years of marriage and I was quietly thanking the LORD for him.

As often happens, my mind reflected on the different ways this marriage has blessed me, and it suddenly dawned on me that the reason for my divorce was not that I was a bad wife to my ex-husband.

You probably already know that I had a very violent 25 year marriage and it resulted in such trauma and loss of self esteem and confidence, that I seriously thought I would remain single for life.

Then three years after I left my ex-husband, I met Chris. He is an answer to prayer, and he tells me I am to him. A year later, we married. It is so very different from the first marriage, but I am basically the same type of wife to Chris. And he loves me.

I wondered why I was so detested and disrespected by my ex-husband, especially as my behaviour was loving and respectful to him. I prayed constantly for him, went to marriage counselling at church by myself, and believed that one day he would love me and not take his anger out on me. Yet, no matter how much I tried to please him in all things, he never was happy.

Truly, I think over the years, I wore more food than he ate, and cooking for him was nerve wracking. Yet Chris finds my cooking good and never complains. So it wasn't that.

Often I would try to find out how I could please my ex-husband and he would never tell me what was wrong. He would tell me how awful a personality I had and that I had to change, and  when I asked him what specifically annoyed him for me to change and ask forgiveness for, he wouldn't give me an answer.

This not only led to anxiety/panic attacks, but seriously eroded any modicum of confidence I had after my traumatic childhood.

Such was my morbid introspection, that I ended up unable to eat and eventually unable to stop shaking. I spent a day in a psychiatric hospital where I was diagnosed with extreme stress/anxiety and advised to leave my errant husband.  

After years of telling me I was crazy whenever I reacted to his abuse and punches, he had the gall to demand I come home as I wasn't crazy and didn't need hospitalisation. I was discharged into my GP's care and left my ex-husband after another 7 years of trying to win him over and have a happy marriage.

The night before I left, I told him how unhappy I was. I also asked him to go to marriage counselling with me or I would be leaving in the morning. He told me he wasn't going because he had done nothing wrong and it was all my fault that he hated me. He said I could divorce him but he wasn't going to pay for it. I did.

That morning after he went to work, I filled two garbage bags with my clothes and baby albums and Bible, and left. I was shattered and heart-broken that he wouldn't take any responsibility and when that happens, it is pretty certain that their heart is no longer in staying married.

I went to business college and later got a job, a nice home and some confidence. But the trauma and head messing left me empty, and sad that I had invested 25 long years in a marriage where I was never loved or even wanted. It left me afraid that he would be proven correct in that I would live alone forever, without even knowing what was wrong with me. It also left me with PTSD.

With a very happy marriage of 23 years this coming Sunday, my conclusions are that no matter how much you try to appease an abuser, no matter how much you turn yourself inside out for answers to improve yourself, no matter how you look, or talk, or cook, or save, or mother, or clean or love, you will never do enough to please them. And you can't ever please them because they don't want to be placated. 

Sadly, sometimes to save yourself, you just have to pick up your beach umbrella, shake off the sand, and move to another beach.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

He delivers me from my enemies.You also lift me up above those who rise against me; You have delivered me from the violent man. Psalm 18:48

A discipline worth fighting for.

Next month I will turn 68 and in all honesty, it has been a bumpy ride. All manner of tribulations, trials and hurts have been interspersed with blessings, wonder, tears of joy and love.

Like most people, I realise that time has passed by very quickly. It seemed I blinked from the time of being a young bride to now being the grandmother of the bride!

Birthdays don't phase me, in fact I celebrate each one joyfully, in spite of the fact that my physical life is a painful symphony of noisy ailments that clash in a discordant cacophony that threaten my mental health.

It's so easy to succumb to depression when one has a constant string of painful ailments to vie with each other to be Conductor of the piece. I battle them constantly. 

I struggle to have the vicissitudes of life as salubrious as possible: I want to live my life well and not simply endure it. I know now how fast life passes us by and how precious every moment is.

Years ago, I realised I can go either way: try to be grateful and be happier or whine all the time and resent my life and be miserable. I choose to be grateful which is harder- but it has hope in it. 

To be honest, sometimes these overlap and I find myself whining just after feeling grateful and I have to bring my thoughts into the captivity of Christ...  however, in general, I try to be upbeat and positive. No mean feat with fibromyalgia, heart and spinal problems.

Gratefulness is a discipline worth cultivating in order to live our life well. Gratefulness will enhance our life and help us overcome our health trials.

It takes practice, it takes prayer, it takes self control- but it is a discipline worth the effort in order to have a good life albeit a painful one.

Every moment of every day equates to our life and it is imperative that we try to focus on anything that is positive, good, noble and right. If we don't, we will be miserable as well as in pain.

Gratefulness is  difficult to practise, and positivity is sometimes impossible, but in order to look over our life at the end of the day,and acknowledge that it is good, it is a discipline worth fighting for.

 

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. Philippians 4:8

Hypocrites in the church

We are never going to find a perfect church because we are all sinners saved by grace. But at the least, love for each other should be obvious... or else we are no disciples of Christ... "This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." John 15:12  Sadly I have been to such mega churches where the preacher is more interested in getting the right side of his profile on the video tape... real performers! Give me a church that truly loves its' brethren...

Many people, myself included have been hurt by judging, unloving and critical Christians in church.  18 months ago after I left the last church where I was serving as a deaconess and a foundation member, I decided I had had enough of being hurt. My weight, age and illness were mocked and they were only going to get worse. I felt that I would never go to church again. But gradually over the months, I got an unbearable hunger for corporate worship and last Sunday, in spite of panic attacks and a bit of fear, I went with my friend to a church that Chris and I have attended before. It was good... I felt complete. 

I do understand the silent looks, the unspoken criticism of being ill and the almost palpable expectation of others to get better and to stop whingeing.... and yes, to have more faith. This world is geared to the young and well and the beautiful people, even in the church. If you happen to be obese as well, you are minced meat! But I had to work through that and to be honest, it still hurts. Christians should not judge on externals...

But I need to go to church. For me, it was a lesson in forgiveness and knowing that Jesus accepts me as I am, even if young pioneer church planters of pastors, don't. I think unless God intervenes in their hearts, a lot of go getting pastors will continue to view the chronically ill aged and overweight  or  poorly clad, with the carnal mindset of the world.

I wonder if they have really heard from God in their calling when His compassion and love is evidently not manifested in their actions.  This shouldn't be with pastors because although human they are entrusted with much and they should be worthy of the respect they deserve as pastors. Yet sadly many fall very short. I believe it is a sad indictment against the modern church... and pastorate. 

Did you know that Mahatma Gandhi was shown contempt when he went to a church? he never went again, citing us as hypocrites! This is so sad and I know it grieves the LORD.

http://www.christiantoday.co.in/article/mahatma.gandhi.and.christianity/2837.htm

If the church has no compassion for the sick, no care for the poor or hunger to reach the lost, then she doesn't know her God and deserves to be called hypocritical.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Therefore the Lord said: "Inasmuch as these people draw near with their mouths and honor Me with their lips, but have removed their hearts far from Me, and their fear toward Me is taught by the commandment of men,"  Isaiah 29:13

Baby hunger and old ladies.

As a woman who is now a great-grandmother, I have come to realise that for most of us women, there is a deep desire to one day becoming a mother. It is how God created us.

Indeed, one sees this inherent virtue in young girls from the time they tenderly place blankets around their dollies or clasp a dolly to their breast in the first bloom of maternal love.

As is natural, after this first blooming, other factors come into play as they learn about the world, books and life. But the seed of maternal desire has been sowed and will spring up in later years.

Nurture of new life is a characteristic of womanhood and that nurturing endures for a lifetime. Ask any aged woman who has reared a family and she will tell you that it still presents itself. It presents itself in memories of her own children now grown, and later in her children's children. And if she is fortunate, in her grandchildren's children.

The ache for a baby to hold is still strong, even though the years for becoming a mother are well and truly gone. Each baby will be scrutinised, exclaimed over and rocked and the wonder of new life and a baby's sweet smell will transport a woman to earlier years and the time she first welcomed each new child of her own into her arms and life.

I remember once when we were at a wedding, my aged aunt begged me to allow her to hold my baby daughter, eagerly holding her arms out to receive her. At the time, I didn't realise how strong baby hunger is, until the last grandchild was born and my arms became empty.

There seem to be less babies these days, in part to feminism trying to tell us that a career is better than wiping little noses and bottoms and advise control of our fertility by having abortions. However, wherever there is a baby, you can be sure of two things- there will be other children and old ladies.

For the young ones, it brings a fascination born of that same inbuilt desire to love and nurture. But why old ladies? you ask. Because most times the God created desire to nurture and the love of new life remains long after the ability to beget children. A newborn brings back the memories of younger fertile years and the children born in that time. It makes her feel young again. Reborn. 

Enjoy your children and grandchildren and always get plenty of cuddles. Baby hunger will be easier to cope with if you get a full diet of infant cuddles while you are still young.... 

I promise, you will feel that longing to fill your empty arms with a baby one day as baby hunger is very real. 

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

He maketh the barren woman to keep house, [and to be] a joyful mother of children. Praise ye the LORD. Psalm 113:9

Giving in is not giving up!

Yesterday I came to the realisation that my fibromyalgia is not going to get any better. Nor is my diabetes, hole in the heart, back pain, angina, asthma or torn meniscus. 

My blood sugars are also high, but not as high as Chris's, but it is a warning to me as well. I certainly do not want to go through what Chris is going through with trying to get the right amount of insulin and the horrid symptoms he endures.

My hole in the heart means my right lung is not oxygenating properly and because I need a fourth stent which I have refused (another story), I have constant stable angina. And asthma on exertion.

My blood pressure is high as the pain from my back and torn meniscus in my knee is bad. Finally, with Chris being ill now, my depression is back. I hurt when he is hurting.

Like any Sacrificial Home Keeper, I am trying to keep my home clean and tidy and here I too am failing. I see no end to it...

I was talking to my twin sister yesterday and she said that it is possible to get a bit of subsidised home help through the Australian Government's Age Care plan. So I applied and am going to be assessed tomorrow. I am eligible, as I am now 67 and my husband is 70  and is unable to do housework with me.

I can do some housework if it is waist level: dishes, cooking, washing, dusting. But I cannot even sweep let alone vacuum or wash my floors, as my tendons and muscles scream for mercy with my fibromyalgia and my back joins in sympathy, followed by angina and asthma. So basically I need someone to clean my floors and to change our bed.

As a woman who has been a house keeper since 1969 and brought up five children, it really galls me that I have to admit that I cannot maintain my own home by myself anymore. 

So, I am giving in trying to keep up like before when I was well. But I still will be doing meal planning, grocery shopping (online),  cooking, cleaning my kitchen including dishes, bill paying and budgeting, washing, ironing as needed, refilling prescriptions, social planning and gift buying, looking after Xena our cat, and most importantly, looking after Chris's and my health.

In saying I am giving in trying to be strong like before, I am not giving up: one way or another, my home will be clean! 

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Do not cast me off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength is spent. Psalm 71:9