My strategy when I have a mountain of tasks is exactly that: running in circles. If I stick to just one thing, I get stuck, so I bounce from project to project. And between tasks? My secret to resetting my brain is a little bit of cleaning. Now, let's be very clear: I am no neat freak. But a little vacuuming here, a small surface wiped down, it clears the mental cache.
There's a verse about toil having its rewards, though I suspect Solomon wasn't picturing a cat hair-free zone and a dodged inbox.
Which is a cute strategy, until your body stages a rebellion. This past month, my cleaning and task-jumping came to a screeching halt. Between walking too much at the convention in Orlando, my ankle flared up so badly I could barely walk. Thankfully, I had my rheumatologist appointment right on the calendar, he got me squared away with the right medication, and I am doing much better now. Just taking it easy.
(If you know me, you know I hate going to the doctor. Because of my RA, I have to see my rheumatologist, but now it's just twice a year, which is absolute perfection.)
Speaking of doctors, I've been whining to a dear friend of mine. This morning we were texting during my early morning on the deck with the cat before the Mississippi heat tries to melt us, which was just delightful.
But I was complaining about how turning 50 is wonderful and deeply annoying all at once, mostly because your wellness checkups suddenly multiply into a barrage of extra screenings to make sure everything is holding together. You know, because we are officially past the halfway mark. Psalm 90 tells us to number our days, but nobody warns you that numbering your days also means scheduling an extra amount of specialist appointments to make sure those days actually keep going.
I was having a full-blown pity party about being sent from one specialist to another. In fact, one doctor's office called me on a day when I had approximately zero filter left. I actually said out loud, "Do I really need to see you? I mean, really?"
Spoiler alert: I am not going to that appointment.
Anyway, my pity party came to a screeching halt when my friend, who is a retired pastor's wife living the dream by the beach in Florida, texted me this gem:
"Oh girl! Stop! You're the youngest of the old people!! Schedule your colonoscopy and you will see your doc in 10 years!"
When I read that, I literally laughed out loud right there on the deck, startling the cat so badly he looked at me like I had lost my last remaining marble.
The youngest of the old people. I am going to have to embroider that on a pillow. Or at least print it out and tape it to the refrigerator. It is the exact kind of backhanded encouragement we all need in our 50s, reminding us that while we may be vintage, we aren't quite antique yet. We're just the fresh-faced rookies in the senior citizen league. Who knew youth had an expiration date stamped right around the middle age mark, complete with a polite reminder to check your calendar for preventative screenings?
Amidst all this running in circles and avoiding medical professionals, I logged on today and realized I had completely missed a slew of wonderful comments and private messages from so many of you dear ladies. Oh, my heart sank. I felt so guilty. I'm supposed to be good at keeping up with things, and I completely dropped the ball. I am so sorry, friends. I answered every single one of you today because I love you all. Really.
Right in the middle of thinking about aging, joints, and medical screenings, I saw a post about Jen Wilkin's new book on getting older, Dust to Dust (affiliate link, because even bloggers gotta eat), and I immediately had to order it because I already had a draft brewing for one of my classes.
Fittingly, we really are just dust, which is remarkably comforting on the days when cleaning the house feels entirely pointless and our bodies refuse to cooperate with our step goals.
It made me think of Ecclesiastes. We spend so much time worrying about the aches, the maintenance, and the ticking clock, but Scripture reminds us of a beautiful, steady truth:
"He has made everything beautiful in its time." (Ecclesiastes 3:11)
Even the seasons where our ankles hurt, even the decade where our calendar fills up with unglamorous medical screenings, and even the moments when we feel like we are falling hopelessly behind. He is sovereign over our timeline, from the first steps of the morning walk to the years we spend earning our badge as the youngest of the old people.
Thank you for being such grace-filled friends. Now, excuse me while I go vacuum something, it's the only appointment on my calendar I'm not dreading.
Love,
Andrea Anderegg
Andreia. Amei! Fez minha sexta braba melhor!
ReplyDelete