They don't "see us".

Although I didn't plan to post about RSD this month, I was just talking with a friend about the poem "A Crabby Old Man" (posted by Liz Hall). In the discussion with my friend, Shirley, she broke down in tears saying she couldn't continue reading Liz's observation that people don't really "see us"...admitting that she misses the old me and she mourns for both of us the busyness and vibrancy that was lost too soon and the plans of us enjoying old age together. My response was to try and console this loved one that although those things were in fact lost to me and I, too, mourn them, my consolation is that I now have an added dimension to my life. Though hard to explain or even grasp, I used the analogy that as a baby grows to adulthood and then to old age, things in adulthood are missed but old age is not without blessings. In old age, you may be lacking abilities, vigor and vibrancy but those things may be replaced with other signifficant qualities and activities. In my case, the "alternate life" holds crafting, writing and a drive to make a difference...and truth be told, the able-bodied Jane was responsible and fun-loving but not intent on making a difference in life. Now, however, it consumes me. My main purpose used to be raising a family and sharing the Gospel. Now there's an added dimension of ministering to hurting people and making a differene in the cause of RSD. Though I would not choose this lifestyle, I can't deny that I'm better for it.

The Christmas Season

I'm trying my best to make RSD
Be dormant this Christmas, or better yet flee
I'm trying my best to lay it aside
And focus on Jesus, my Saviour and Guide
The reason for joy in the depths of my soul
Despite being broken, He makes me feel whole
He makes me complete in the core of my being
As through Him, it's truth and love I am seeing



In this month of December, my time will be devoted to a Christmas blog, to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. Please visit my other blog...A CHRISTMAS COLLECTION...and rejoice with me in the gift of His presence.


Poem Copyright Mary Jane Gonzales