Leaning on the door frame, I watched Claire warming up with the other girls in her beginner’s ballet class. As they stretched, I observed their varying degrees of flexibility. Some girls could easily rest their heads on their knees and others struggled to touch their toes. I mused that I’d definitely be one of the latter group. Well that’s what happens when you get older, I rationalized. Moments later the girls’ teacher (who has about 2 decades on me, give-or-take) demonstrated proper posture while executing the stretch perfectly. <jaw drops>
That kind of flexibility must take years of pushing muscles to their limit in order to keep them supple and pliable. I find, however, that the older I get the more I say, “I’m sore in places I didn't even realize I had muscles!” We all know what happens when we try an physical activity that we haven’t done in awhile. The next day our muscles remind us that they need time to be retrained and, for goodness sake, take it easy next time!
SO, if I know it takes time and hard work to keep muscles flexible, why am I surprised that…
- Planning meals around what you can find at the grocery store, not by what you want to eat…
- And being just moments away from a medical crisis that requires you fly to another country to get help...
- And having the finance office open from 9:00 AM – 12:00 PM and the post office from 1:00 – 4:00 PM, making it impossible to visit both places in one trip even though they’re across the street from each other...
- And longing for sunshine during months of steady rain, only to start praying for rain (and drinking water) again after a 3-week dry spell…
- And having no choice about what shampoo the family is using that week and coping with the fallout thereof…
- And dealing with the mini-crisis, paperwork and last-minute travel that a forgotten expiration date in a passport can cause…
- And relearning to wash dishes with or without liquid dish soap…
…make me emotionally weary?
This month marks the halfway point of our time here in PNG, and I find myself wondering if I have the stamina to make it another 18 months. Then I feel guilty because one quick look around reminds me that I have it pretty good and definitely no reason to complain. So I keep looking for the day when I wake up with a permanently flexible attitude—one that allows me to naturally adapt to change and not feel pain in the alteration.
It’s an unrealistic expectation, of course. I wasn’t made to work that way, so I shouldn’t be ashamed that so much “stretching” might wear me down. Flexibility is a key to survival when you’re living overseas. Actually, it’s handy in marriage, parenthood, home schooling, the workplace and just LIFE in general. We get too easily set in our ways, and sometimes forget that things CAN be done differently, or we WILL survive without such-and-such. Sometimes change hurts in ways we never expected.
BUT maybe it can be a good pain. A pain that reminds us we have muscles that need to be used…especially that “dependence upon Christ alone” muscle that gets weak when we feel like we’re finally in control. So what’s been stretching your flexibility these days?
