Saturday, January 28, 2006

He Must Love Me

Trouble is part of your life, and if you don't share it, you don't give the person who loves you enough chance to love you enough.

--Dinah Shore

I've spent the better part of the afternoon and evening contemplating my navel. Some days I really get quite down about having CF, and it seems like my depressive mood follow hot on the heels of some over-stimulating activity.

Today I went to a baby shower for my friend Liz--the first baby shower I can recall ever having been to. I had a wonderful time, and it was awesome to see so many ladies from multiple generations within our church come together to honor Liz and celebrate the incredible change her life (and her husband Clay's!) is about to take.

When I got home I was truly overwhelmed with emotion. Many of my friends are now having babies, and although I'm not really experiencing jealousy over it, I think I'm experiencing more of a sort of grief about my own loss in that department. Don't get me wrong, I am very thrilled for my friends who are new mommies and soon-to-be mommies...I just don't quite know how to process all of that, especially when juxtaposed with my own thoughts and feelings about whether or not Brad and I could or should be parents at some point.

For about an hour or so I launched into your basic female over-reaction to my own emotions. There are some days when I feel like I'm walking around with a big sandwich board sign that reads "I have Cystic Fibrosis and some days just suck because of it". I constantly feel like I have to give additional effort on certain things in order to make up for the times when CF slows me down. I've even wondered what in the world could possibly be so worthwhile about me that Brad would commit his life to me, without giving it a second thought.

Brad patiently and assertively reminded me that even when I feel like I'm nothing more than a walking science project, he loves me for me. CF is just something I have--like red hair and that goofy little freckle on the bottom of my right foot.

This evening I found the following, entitled a letter to my husband. It was written a few years back by a woman who married a man with CF. I cried as I read it, and it finally sank in that how she feels about her husband must be how Brad feels about me. He must love me. He didn't marry a science project. He married a human being who is every bit as worthy and capable of a fulfilling life as anyone else.

Below are the words to "You Must Love Me" from the musical, "Evita". Eva sings this song as her husband helps her home from the hospital after she is told that she is dying of cancer. I think of this song often when I realize that Brad is by my side voluntarily. God certainly picked out an incredible man for me.

Where do we go from here?
This isn't where we intended to be
We had it all, you believed in me
I believed in you

Certainties disappear
What do we do for our dream to survive?
How do we keep all our passions alive,
As we used to do?

Deep in my heart I'm concealing
Things that I'm longing to say
Scared to confess what I'm feeling
Frightened you'll slip away

You must love me
You must love me

Why are you at my side?
How can I be any use to you now?
Give me a chance and I'll let you see how
Nothing has changed

You must love me

I was so touched by your share. After reading it initially, I thought to myself, "Oh my gosh... I never want my girls to feel that way." I'm sure your own mom probably will think that too. But, beyond that initial reaction, Brad is so blessed to have been chosen to be with you. My husband, Dave, is Dan and Sarah's step-dad. At first I thought, "This is a really incredible man to take on this level of responsibility." And, of course, he is. However, he is also an incredibly lucky man to be a part of our lives, as is Brad. You are such a beautiful lady. I know God will guide you and direct you to exactly where you need to be. Why? Because you ask Him.
Love and Light,
God Bless you for being a blessing
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?