Thursday, February 6, 2014

The Age Disease

"I don't want to get older." I said this to my mom when I was four. Every year, the sentiment has remained the same. I like the year I am now. I don't want to be 5.

Isn't that how everyone feels? You cling through survival mode in your teenage years because you picture this state of perfection in your 20s. And then you hit twenty and your face clears up but the rest of you starts slowly decaying. So when did the perfection happen? Oh....wait.....it didn't.

It's disturbing to think we've all caught this disease called age.

I'm not even old. I'm actually pretty stinking young. And yet I've had a few selfish moments lately, wanting to tune out the idea of bodies breaking down....needing fixing....having arthritis in your 20s.

It's not the end. But it sure feels like the beginning of the end. It feels like this long road toward recovery. It feels like the kind of thing where a doctor will come to you later saying, "Oops. Looks like there's a complication."

I know he will do his best. I know it's out of our control. I just......you know how my sister really struggled with finding out she would have a daughter with down syndrome? It's because she never ever pictured having a daughter with disabilities. She was SO type A. How could anyone "slow" her down?

Shallowly, that's how I feel about marrying someone with a diagnosis that is the leading cause of disability in the USA. I don't love him any less. But I know he can't guarantee anything to me. He can't guarantee a successful treatment or a quick recovery. He can't guarantee there will still be a job waiting for him. He can't guarantee anything.

But even without this diagnosis, how much can either of us guarantee each other anyway? God is in control, not us. He knows. He allowed. He will carry.

This is ridiculous of course because other people have managed with the disease just fine. So I'm overreacting.

That's all we can hope for. God is not surprised by this diagnosis or this "age disease". Thankfully, this life is not our home.

Tomorrow's a new day.

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