In some ways, after years of being chronically ill, I have found myself becoming s somewhat cynical of the world around me. It is not something I set out to do, and it is an attitude I try to repress, but years of discouragement and disappointment take their toll.
Friendships that you thought would last a lifetime come to a quiet end as life for them continues and you remain an frustrated prisoner of pain. Caught up in the excitement of a big new world begging for them to explore, the idea of visiting an old school chum locked in time soon loses its appeal. Thoughts of that old friend are replaced with the joy of reaching new milestones such as graduating from college, getting the first job, dating, marrying, buying a home, and having children. And without meaning for it to happen you have been reduced to a memory entitled “What was her name again.”
For years, in between my bouts of debilitating pain, I have been quietly writing. Creating folders of poetry, short stories, and even a book that sit quietly on my bookshelves waiting for the rare occasion when I would pull them off the shelf and read them. And that is where I expected them to stay all the days of my life gathering dust and growing yellow with age, because I had no idea how to share them with the world.
Time, I think that I am so painfully cognizant of it because thanks to my chronic health issues I lose so much of it. Everything in my life has to be planned around those precious hours and days that are lost to the debilitating waves of pain and fatigue that repeatedly force me to take a time out.
Time is the most valuable commodity that we have. With it we buy every aspect of our lives. From study time to family time, to the lazy afternoon at the beach, time buys it all.
While we think of money and all it allows us to buy, dream about the lifestyle that piles of money in our bank account would allow us enjoy, we little realize that the most precious asset that we own is time. Without time a room full of gold and jewels would be of no value, it would offer us no worth.
It is only with time on our clock of life that we can think, grow, interact, and understand. It is only while we have a deposit of time in our account that we can stop and take a leisurely walk on the beach, pick up a book and read, learn a new language, enjoy a sunset, paint a mountain scene, give a hug to our loved ones, and the countless wonders that belong to the living.
From my spot on the sofa I can watch the first dry summer breeze as it ripples through the leaves of the oaks in my backyard. A small family of red coated cardinals is playing tag in my neighbors yard while lazy marshmallow clouds decorate the crisp blue sky. In the distance I can hear the sounds of kids splashing in a pool while their watching parents talk with friends from the comfort of their shady porch.
It is summer and life is calling. Calling me to get up fertilize and weed my little backyard garden, to admire the saucer size peach and red hibiscus flowers, or to pick a pepper the size of my hand. Life is calling my name begging me to cut and sew a cool summer blouse, to reorganize my closet, to spend an hour at the gym, to try a recipe for blueberry pie, or curl up in a corner with my favorite book.
Energy, a six letter word meaning 1. thecapacityforvigorousactivity;availablepower: 2. anadequateorabundantamountofsuchpower(dictionary.com). Most of us take this six letter word for granted. Assuming that it has always been there when we need it, and will always be there when the situation demands. Merrily bouncing around without giving thought to just how important a role energy plays in our daily life. Never realizing that from the moment we open our eyes until the moment we go to bed we are using the precious resources of energy to do even the most mundane task such as blink, cough, hiccup, or breathe. Jumping out of bed we head straight into our favorite routines little realizing the debt of gratitude we owe to energy as it fuels our daily task, ensures our memories, and guards us from the drain of an unexpected squeal of brakes or unwanted surprise exam.
When I was a young child, if you had asked me where life’s road was going to take me without hesitation I would have confidently declared, to medical school. Before I had even entered the first grade, I knew that I wanted to become a doctor. A field trip to the lab where my Father worked only confirmed my decision as I looked up with awe at the neat rows of equipment that glowed like gleaming glass jars full of candy.