Adaptation

I once cycled across Ireland with a damaged knee cap. It was a seven day “cycle-a-thon” to raise money for street kids in Lusaka and 3 hours into the first day something gave out in my knee. I kept going. I had another leg, why stop? Two bottles of A5-35 and many ice packs later, I pushed through.  By the end of the trip my bummed leg was four times the size of the other and even to this day if I listen carefully, I can still hear the grinding. It’s still a running joke with my girlfriend Nina and I. My adaptability.  My ability to make the best of every situation and keep going regardless of the circumstances.   It’s a blessing, but it’s certainly a curse, this limitless of mine. Making do. Expecting less.  Tolerating. While I want to be strong, I don’t want my spiritual gifting to lie in the area of taking large bites of a proverbial shit sandwich with a smile on my face.  At times I envy those high maintenance type women.  You know who you are!  I think you may have something to teach me.

Yesterday I joked with a colleague of mine about the war in Afghanistan.  Not the tragedy of the war itself, but likening it to my work space of all places.  He is a trained Occupational Therapist and came to assess my work station to see if any improvements could be made to assist me in feeling more comfortable. It was an enormous step in itself that I even made myself available for this appointment. Carving time out of my schedule to make myself more comfortable when I had more grueling things to tend to, like suffering through a boxing workout, was asking a lot.   But, I did and it was an important lesson for me.  You see, I’ve been working at this desk, and in this same chair for over four years now not realizing that my chair and computer screen could be altered in both height and angle to make both my vision clearer and to support my posture. It took him a flick of a wrist and a push of a finger and suddenly the lights went on.  It was as if I had been driving with a muddy windshield all this time only to be welcomed by a squeegee kid.  Comfort. He was astonished by my adaptation to less than stellar conditions and I expressed how I could work in a war zone and still adapt myself to getting the job done with positive attitude in tow. Keep going, right?

I began thinking about how God sees my ability to tolerate, and even expect less than ideal conditions. Does He really want me to be accustomed to difficulties and hardship? How does he feel about my “batten down the hatches” approach to life?  Is their a purpose for it and do other women identify with the same?  And, like so many habits, was this a learned behavior, or an innate personality trait that was with me in my crib tolerating a lumpy mattress, or sour milk?  Most importantly, I wondered, does this attitude affect my ability to achieve dreams or welcome in God’s blessings?

And here is what I discovered:  I think God’s okay with my easy going nature and if I miss the boat on something, from a better computer screen, to the man of my dreams, His Grace will cover me.  I can’t see Jesus as a type “A” personality running around organizing his disciples’ day planners and ensuring his Sermon on the Mount started at exactly 10:00 a.m.  I can’t see him complaining about the heat in Israel, or the untended gardening in Gethsemane.  And, on his long walks (and I’m sure there were many), I bet he didn’t comment on his shin splints, or insist on the finest leather shoemaker to tend to his feet. I can’t see any of these things. I’m quite sure, that if afforded these luxuries, he would have felt a whole lot more comfortable, but perhaps he would have missed the boat on some pretty important moments in history.  He knew there would be enough fish and loaves; he didn’t plan a menu.  He knew his twelve disciples would be found and loyal (well at least 11); he didn’t do any formal screening or background checks.  He went with the flow, he kept going, and God had his back anyway. 

So, here I sit typing in my poorly lit loft area that is inadequately furnished and un-air-conditioned, and on this hot summer night I know 3 things:

1)      I’m going to “keep going”.

2)      When I falter, or stumble, or screw up, or bust something including a knee-cap, God has me covered.

3)      That God loves type “A” people just as much as us “tolerators” and there is a place in this world for both of us to co-exist and be the hands and feet of Christ.