Holistic Arthritis

Either I’ve injured my hands with so much recent manual labor, or else I’m noticing the beginnings of arthritis in them: general stiffness, soreness, swelling at the joints. The pinky finger on my left hand is particularly puffy and upset. It keeps yelling, in a very snotty and insistent voice. “I really, really don’t want to bend – and you can’t make me!”

The arthritic possibility comes as somewhat of a shock, but it shouldn’t be – arthritis often inserts itself as a stiffener when the years pile up. It actually makes me wonder about the rest of me, and the creakiness of everything. Maybe there’s nerve-and-brain arthritis and heart-and-soul arthritis in progress, too.

We’re back at the lake in Michigan for a few days. I’m grateful for escape from the Buck Creek house, the physical work that reminds me of my ancient status, but also the emotional underpinnings – those needle-ish feelings that tend to stick me like a pincushion until I’m raw with their bee-stings.

My heart currently says my cup runneth over a little bit too much, I’m too rooted in that house, and have too many memories and connections there. I care too much about the old junker, love-hate the fact that it will be all fixed up better than ever before, even with AIR CONDITIONING and NEW WINDOWS. I love it that the house will be in such great shape, but hate it as well since we’ll LEAVE and not be the ones to share its newly gained fitness level. When we’re there I can’t escape this high-alert sense that something is upside-down and backwards, the puzzle pieces are scattered, and I can’t find a way to make them fit. I guess that’s evidence of emotional arthritis.

I keep telling myself I’m doing all the hand/arm/shoulder/back-breaking work in the midst of sad-angry-pangs “for the least of these,” some buyer who is, for my illustrative purposes, Jesus Himself. That centers me.

But for now I’ll wrap this stiff left pinkie finger around a glass of icy mint tea and invite my auditory companion, Sound Therapy (this will be Day #190), to sit with me beside the oh-so-calm-and-still lake. I’ll cool my throat and the water will visually wash away the mental cobwebs while I listen to the violins talk to my tinnitus.

As a side note, I feel broadsided by people who talk about wrestling with God as if it’s a one-time event. Conversely, I believe we’re in Jacob’s shoes every morning. I think most of life is about dealing with spiritual arthritis, and inviting and re-inviting Him to keep the inner man lubricated. Otherwise we fall into rigor mortis of the spirit – and life gets a little smelly.