learning Archives - Jaycee Weaver

It’s a good day. Why? I’m still alive and kicking, that’s why.

About a week ago now, I had major surgery. I knew it was coming, and I was mostly prepared for it. I’ll back up.

So last August, I had some severe abdominal pain that I wasn’t sure was appendicitis, gall bladder, ovarian cyst, or what. I had signs that it could be any of the above and it was the devil. Within a couple of weeks, though, I had some nice images of a lovely uterine nodule that was embedded in the too-thick lining of my too-big uterus as well as signs of pretty angry cysts in both ovaries. I was able to get into a specialist here in town (who I instantly adored) after a second round of ultrasounds showed the same thing, only better and worse in different ways. By round three, that pesky nodule had grown and looked cranky.

She recommended we take the uterus since I’ve been blessed with my three girls and we’ve been done having babies for a while. We made the plans, I dealt with the frequent pain from those cysts and nodule cycling through, well, my cycle, and protesting their frustrations loud and proud. Life goes on. I prepared best I could at home, getting the house spic and span like any neurotic recovering perfectionist would, making meals for the freezer that could be cooked later, teaching the kids how to do laundry and other things. The night before I made sure everyone understood the depth of my love. And that if the worst happened, they better remember never to bury me or have an open casket of any kind, ever, because I will come back and angry haunt them. Nuh uh, no way. They already knew that, of course, because I’ve made my opinion known on that lots of times. I’m kind of morbid like that.

And then, I spent most of the night before praying and reminding the Lord that while I love Him and look forward to being in glory, eternity can wait another 50 years, thank you very much. If that’s His will, of course. But seriously, Lord. Not til I’m 90 something, okay? A thousand years is but a day to Him and all that. These are the thoughts of a crazy lady trying not to let anxiety rule before the scariest surgery of her life. I’d put off processing my emotions really until that night like any good procrastinator does. (Side note, that’s what procrastination usually is–perfectionism delayed because we don’t want to face failure or fear or flaws.)

Anyway, my incredibly wonderful hubby and I go into the hospital while normal, sane people are still asleep and get checked in and prepped. My mom gets there and we’re joking around until I get one little dose of meds in the IV and wake up hours later sore and woozy. Weirdest experience ever, waking up somewhere else knowing your body’s been sliced and yanked and sewn up without your awareness. Surgery takes a whole lot of faith for a control freak.

So now it’s been almost a week. I’ve been mostly resting while trying not to command the troops too forcefully. They’re all amazing, by the way. Friends showing up with dinner, family helping care for and cart around the kids, and my immediate gang pitching in often and wonderfully.

It’s still not all smooth sailing, though. Bouncing back is hard work.

It’s hard to rest when you’re used to doing and doing. It’s hard to let others help you and shut your mouth because they’re not doing it your way, even when you realize expecting that is so rude and makes you sound like a controlling monster. It’s hard when your heart is grateful but your mind is frustrated that you only have the energy for a few minutes’ walk to the bathroom and to get water before you have to rest again. It’s hard when you know that everyone already has so much on their plates that you don’t want to add more, which is why you do everything you do in the first place. It’s hard when you can’t alleviate those burdens and need to be on the receiving end. It’s hard to express that you’re thankful for what everyone is doing but you’re a jumbled mess.

It’s hard when your body is just realizing that all of its normal hormone-balancing parts are gone and the job is left to one little lone ovary to figure herself out. It’s hard when the emotions start processing whether you want them to or not, and suddenly you’re crying buckets one minute and wanting to hit something the next, trying not to get hurt over stupid things, still needing to intervene when the kids are bickering, and yet wanting to crawl into a hole and sleep for days ALL IN THE SAME HOUR. It’s hard when every day feels different, physically and emotionally.

The good news is, it’s temporary. I’m still here and taking more steps forward than back. I’m learning new things everyday about myself, about my strengths and weaknesses. Realizing changes I need to make within myself to better serve my family like I’m supposed to be. Why is it we so easily become stuck in our ruts and routines and don’t realize the things we’ve let slide until there’s a major upheaval?

So I’m grateful I needed this procedure. Sure, there’s a lot of hard stuff to face and deal with afterward. Physically, emotionally, even spiritually. But it’s going to be so much better in the long run. There’s a lot to look forward to physically once I’ve healed, but it’s the emotional and spiritual journey that this has kickstarted I’m most looking forward to. I’m not yet all that I want to be, and God let me wake up afterward so that I can get there. He’s given me time and the desire to make things better and become who He’s made me to be. He’s reignited my eternal spark of hope that’s getting ready to burst into flame once more for Him, for His will in me, in my life, and in my family. For that, I’d go through all of the hard stuff a thousand times, and worse. Because like Romans 5:3-5 says:

“Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.”

It’s spring, and I’m alive. There is hope, for those who take the seasons of upheaval and persevere to learn something. I don’t want to miss my chance. So while there’s not a lot I can do right now as I recover physically, there’s a lot I can do inside (or rather, a lot Jesus can do in me). I’m not going to waste this season.

Come on, Jesus!

Cue deep breath, followed by long sigh. Okay. I can write now.

So it’s been awhile, and I’m not the most faithful at blogging. Not that I have a ton of subscribers to impress anyway, nor is that my goal. So what is my goal, you ask? Easy. I just want to have a place to write and share a little of who I am.

In this crazy busy world of polarized opinion over-sharing and character counts, I’m looking for a little something more.

Connection. I think that’s ultimately what we all crave.

Our need for connection is woven into the very fiber of our existence. We seek connection within ourselves, the world around us, in relationships with other people, and especially spiritually. Connecting ourselves to new information, texts we read, things we hear, and pretty much every experience we have is actually a vital element to learning even from a young age. We feel positively about the things we connect with personally.

So. Connection. It’s one of those buzz words all over the place these days, as people begin to realize how we’ve allowed ourselves to become isolated. And we have done this.

We join social media, but become disheartened by the climate there or distracted and disillusioned by the highlights we see peeking in on others’ lives. Maybe we take the time now and then to connect in person. Maybe we don’t. We spend a little too much time inside working, living, doing. We’re busy. Some of us put ourselves out there over and over again and receive bupkiss in return. Or, if you’re like me, you make really great friends for a while and then–bam!–they move away. (So many times! I tell you, if you want to leave Albuquerque, let’s be friends. I try not to feel cursed.)

But I digress.

So many of the problems on the rise in our country could be resolved and prevented by this one simple concept of truly connecting. Think about it. Suicide rates, school shootings, racial tensions, the polarization of public opinions. Yes, there are extenuating factors making each issue more complex. But at the very heart of things, as we lose face-to-face connection with other people, as we focus more on ourselves, as we keep from doing the things we love and enjoy, spend more time indoors and less in nature, we lose more and more connections. The very connections that make us who we are as a person, but also as a people.

So how do we find connection when we have an infinite list of reasons to remain distracted, isolated, withdrawn, or in our little family bubble?

I find it’s easiest to start physically. I’ve recently gone back to practicing yoga, and my Christ honoring instructor pointed out how important it is we feel connected to the very ground under our feet. She wanted us to really feel the floor with our hands and feet while the rest of our bodies are twisting like pretzels. And guess what? It makes sense. That physical connection opened my heart back up to checking out the world around me, and looking for other broken connections.

When I look up and around, the first thing my eyes are always drawn to are the Sandia Mountains.

This isn’t even that great of a shot. But look at those pretty Watermelon Mountains (in case you wondered what Sandia means). Every time I look at them, I marvel at the way they never look the same. And I mean never. You could do a time-lapse over a year and it would be a crazy mix of colors, clarity, brightness, depth, and mystery. I could write an ode or sonnet about all the things I love about my mountains. As long as I can see them, I feel connected to my home. I come back to ABQ from a long trip, and as soon as I catch sight of them my heart wants to leap from its chest and sing, “I’m home! I’m home!” Sure, they’re small compared to the mountains further north or across the world, but they’re mine.

When I turn away from the mountains to face west, I catch an expanse of the most incredible sky in the world. Yes. I said that. New Mexico has incredibly blue skies, and the sunsets here are like nowhere else. Whenever I’m driving westward in the late afternoon, I feel like God has painted a spectacular work of art just for me. Just. For. Me. I don’t care how many people live here and see it. He did it for me, and you can’t tell me differently. Because connecting to the artistry and beauty of creation opens my heart and spirit to connect with God himself. And a spiritual connection is ultimately what we’re all created for in the first place. So get out there and connect to your world, your environment. Experience it. Put down the distractions more often and let your love for a place ground you and start healing those wounded places.

Once you’ve reset yourself again, you’re ready to get out there and make human connections again. And let’s face it. We all go through seasons of isolation and withdrawal. We get tired and frustrated and it’s easier to not put ourselves out there anymore to avoid the hurt. Or we become “too busy,” allowing our busy-ness to make us feel more important and significant. All that does is elevate us onto a different plane away from the very thing we need most, other people. Even you introverts out there. You need your people. Small, controlled doses with plenty of solo time after, but you need them, too. And you extroverted introverts (like me) who need to be surrounded by people, but it’s like pulling teeth to get you there past the dread and temptation to cancel. I see you, I know how you are. Suck it up, buttercup, and make a plan with somebody and stick to it. You need it.

I won’t go on about all the ways we can foster our interpersonal connections because what each of us needs varies greatly from person to person. I just want to encourage you to find a small way to actually do it. Start with your little world around you. Throw yourself back into something that you love, or pursue that person you’ve lost touch with. Reconnect with your faith, even if it’s just a quick prayer of “Hey, God, I’m still here. Sorry I’ve ignored you lately.”

Make one connection today, and maybe another one tomorrow.

If we all just got outside ourselves for a minute, think of the good we could do in this world.

Tag: learning

Bouncing Back!

Connection isn’t just a buzz word.