Cool as a Cucumber

  

I opened my purse and dumped it on the hospital bed, looking for something that might ease my low grade tension or high grade boredom.  Tylenol, scripture cards, gum, eye drops: anything would have been helpful.  It was 2:00 am and my daughter, finding respite from pain under the blanket of sleep, opened her eyes surveyed the mess beside her legs and stated, “Mum, that’s a cucumber.” 

“Yep.  You are right.  That’s a cucumber.”  I agreed, moving it aside in search for something less organic.  Eyeing the vegetable once more she gave me a puzzled look and retreated into unconsciousness.  Given the amount of drugs in her system, I could have told her she was dreaming and to go back to sleep but she was entirely correct.  We were stuck in the Emergency Room at 2:00 in the morning and all I had in my purse was a cucumber. 

If I had a choice, I would have packed something more useful but choice isn’t found in many ER’s so we, like all those admitted this evening, were making the most of it.  Despite my abundant imagination, I couldn’t come up with a scenario featuring a cucumber unless my daughter suddenly decided she wanted a hand sanitizer and cucumber facial. I stared at her pain creased face and sighed.  I was feeling outclassed again.

I wasn’t overwhelmed 12 hours earlier, when I stopped by a friend’s house and for a quick visit.  The height of efficiency, I had combined errands and managed a half hour chat before she left on a flight the next morning. On my way out the door she handed me a baggie of cherry tomatoes and a cucumber like any reasonable gardener does.  Rubbing my eyes, I wondered where the bag of cherry tomatoes had gone and prayed I hadn’t left them with my clipboard of paperwork at the front desk, like a horticulturalist addict dropping seeds and baggies of gardening smack wherever I went. 

I decided the late hour was getting to me and headed to the bathroom to wash my face.  A trick I learned from my husband, who believes most all hormonal issues can be dealt with by a metaphorical reboot, hence the face washing ritual.  It actually did the trick and I headed back to our green cubical, reminding myself to stay cool and that losing my patience now wasn’t going to speed things up.

This week, I’ve spent some time thinking about the discomfort of being in a situation and feeling desperately unequipped. The drive to the hospital was hell, the noises my daughter made seemed to bypass my auditory system and translated directly into unsafe driving.  I blew through 3 yellow lights (if red is a shade of yellow) as I navigated dark streets trying to close the distance between our location and my daughters promised relief.  I couldn’t fix a thing. 

Ever been in that place my friend?      

Perhaps you went to work expecting support but received only slander.  Maybe you were in the relationship until “death do us part” but your partner bailed at “death of size 4.”  At times we walk into situations expecting civility and are met with cruelty and condemnation.  When faced with unkindness, Christianity can seem as useless as a cucumber in an emergency room.  What good is the power of God if I’m not allowed to hurl it at someone’s head to stop their aggression?  What good is my faith when it doesn’t stop the pain? 

In these situations, I’ve only ever seen two options: to move toward God or move away from faith.  My highest priority when I’m in pain is to get out of it as quickly as possible.  When that doesn’t happen, I get angry and blame the Lord for not waving a magic wand and turning my obstacles into chocolate creams.  Rarely does rejoicing or thanksgiving come to my mind when confronted with suffering, I need to coax -  yay force - myself towards faith in these moments.  It isn’t my default setting.  (I think that’s a maturity thing, we can’t all be as amazing as John Piper.) 

But praise God there is an alternative to my limited carnal thinking. There is a God who sees my suffering despite my fussing and is willing to condescend to coax me along.  Though the steps I take might be small, God is big and able to sustain all those who are suffering and come to him for help.   

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.  2 Corinthians 1:3-4  

If you are feeling like your faith is limited, or that you are ill equipped to handle the situation before you, allow me to remind you that there is a God who fights for you and will continue to walk with you throughout your trial.  Though you might not see a purpose in your pain does not mean God has forgotten or abandoned you in your time of need.  Your weakness does not negate his strength or his plans for you.

I couldn’t come up with a use for that cucumber at 2:00 am but at 12:30 pm it was quite a different story.  Lunch was sparse, plans for grocery shopping having been interrupted.  I had half a container of cream cheese and a sleeve of Costco bagels I liberated from the freezer.  As I set to work toasting and slathering my daughter looked in the fridge and asked, “I don’t suppose we have any vegetables anywhere?”  “We do!” My eldest replied from her nest on the couch, leg propped up on two pillows.  “Check mum’s purse, it’s where she stashed a cucumber.”

May you things that were formerly useless become useful this week.

I’m praying for you,

xoxK