Sometimes, it is all about me

“Crucified
Laid behind a stone
You lived to die
Rejected and alone
Like a rose
Trampled on the ground
You took the fall
And thought of me
Above all”

Those words always bring me to my knees, whether mentally or literally, whether sung in church or through tears with just me and the earbuds.

The months after Dad’s first hospitalization meant many appointments. His GP. Mom’s GP. His urologist. His visits by the home health worker. His kidney specialist. My OBGYN. His procedure. My surgeries. Aly’s senior year events.

On my birthday that fall, the wrapping paper fell away to reveal an iPod Touch. It became the date book Mickey meant it to be, and we put it to use right away as we sat throughout that morning and into early afternoon in Dad’s urologist’s office. Waiting. If I were truly a patient person, that day would have put an end to it. But there would be many more days just like that one, and patience never became mine. Mindless endurance, well, that’s another matter.

But eventually that iPod Touch became my electronic spiritual savior. On the days when it was just me and an empty house, that little chrome device was my best friend. It sat in my left pocket, white strands linking it to my ears while I worked at the computer or scrubbed toilets or pulled weeds or read my Bible or prayed for friends like Leslie or mentally sorted through the hard things at work. And into my ears flowed melodies and lyrics that delivered perspective.

During weeks, months, of seemingly one hardship after another, it helped keep me sane.

Some months ago that little friend went missing. I rifled through the messes in the desk drawers at work, sifted through piles of clutter in our bedroom and in Aly's, poked and prodded between and under the car seats, looked behind and inside furniture -- all to no avail. I missed it terribly, not only because it helped keep me organized but because it helped tune my brain to the things that matter most.

Finally I gave up. It’ll turn up … someday ... I thought.

Well, months later it did. Aly discovered it somewhere I’d never thought of looking and presented her mom with it, all charged up and ready to go. Yet there it sat for the next couple of weeks, beside my laptop, unused.

Until yesterday morning. As I struggled with some oppressingly negative feelings and thoughts, I didn’t even want to go to church -- felt I didn’t belong there with the thoughts overwhelming my mind, that I didn’t deserve even an ounce of what my Saviour has to offer. So I skipped Sunday school, loaded the sink full of dishes and started scrubbing.

But first, that little device started “calling” my name -- a gentle nudge grew increasingly sharper until, before I knew it, the earbuds were in, Pandora was tuned in and the music began to flow.

“Crucified
Laid behind a stone
You lived to die
Rejected and alone
Like a rose
Trampled on the ground
You took the fall
And thought of me
Above all”

And behind the music came the tears. And the prayers. And the gratitude.

It’s not about me, I have to remind myself over and over, when discouragement gets the upper hand.

But in this case, it is. And I’m eternally grateful.

To top it off, on this Sunday, especially, I'm glad I made it to church.