Wounded much?

Many years ago, my little cat Choochie (pictured here) got fixed at a discount vet clinic that sent me home with a ton of aftercare instructions but very little equipment to work with. I was told to keep her inside her carrier for a few days, to keep her away from other animals for about a week, and to not allow her to jump on any furniture. I tried to follow these instructions as closely as I could, but she ended up grooming her stitched-up area and giving herself an infection. The vet clinic advised me to put some band-aids on her stitched-up area so as to protect it from her fur-brushing tongue... but, of course, band-aids don't stick very well to furry areas. Eventually, they ended up removing the stitches from Choochie altogether, and we had no choice but to quickly resume life as usual.

But during that brief period while she had her stitches, when she was confined to her carrier (I think I would only let her out to eat, drink water, and use the litterbox), I felt that we bonded during her healing process. At the time, I had a large table beside my bed, so I would put the carrier on top of the table at night and pull it close to my bed so that Choochie and I could sleep near each other. I could hear her purring in the dark. Perhaps you've read about this before on my blog, because I really did learn a lot about how God feels about me during that entire ordeal.

Well, now it's Macho's turn to undergo healing after surgery. The supreme-quality-care animal hospital where I take my cats now sent me home with a few aftercare instructions and a ton of equipment to work with, as you can see. No band-aids necessary. Just a flexible cone-of-shame device that acts very much like a macho-man bonnet. Aww. Doesn't he look like a manly little satellite dish? You can probably guess how crazy my imagination has become lately. Beep, beep. I'm picking up a Purina signal over here. Beep, beep, beep, beep.

Macho's adorable little blue bonnet works very well to prevent him from disturbing his stitched-up area. But it definitely requires a great deal of adjustment. As you can see, the bonnet affects certain activities such as sleeping...

eating...

basking...

trying to be close to Mama...

and participating in general shenanigans. Um, yeah. I didn't know he would be physically capable of doing things like jumping on my coffee table and helping himself to my dinner -- not even 4 days after his surgery. Dang, it's as if the bonnet has magical powers!

And yet, it's the bonnet that restricts his life and frustrates him.

It was slightly heartbreaking to watch him scrape the bonnet along the walls and doors after I first brought him home from the animal hospital. He has cataracts, so I think maybe he relies on his whiskers to feel his way around. And when he instinctively tries to groom himself with his fur-brushing tongue, he can only go as far as his tail and hind feet.

Since my apartment has basically become a senior-cat nursing home, I've tried to gently keep Macho clean with a washcloth (as the vet tech suggested). He hasn't seemed to mind me washing his shaven areas. And he seems to have gotten used to me cleaning off his bonnet from time to time. (If that thing dips into the litterbox right after it's been dipped into the water bowl... Um, yeah. Couch-cleaning time.) Yes, Macho has become accustomed to Mama cleaning his bonnet. And the bonnet has even made it easier for me to administer his required oral medications. Score!

So, Macho and I have been healing-bonding in a similar way that Choochie and I bonded. Yes, of course this entire ordeal reminds me of my emotional healing. Why do you ask?

"The wicked watches the righteous, and seeks to slay him. The Lord will not leave him in his hand, nor condemn him when he is judged. Wait on the Lord, and keep His way, and He shall exalt you to inherit the land; when the wicked are cut off, you shall see it... Mark the blameless man, and observe the upright; for the future of that man is peace." (Psalm 37:32-34, 37)

Choochie's and Macho's healing processes are quite different, probably because they required different kinds of surgeries, and probably because they were provided with different kinds of treatments. Choochie had her entire reproductive system removed for about $30 and an over-the-counter suggestion for band-aids. Macho had a couple of bladder stones removed for about $2400 and a superhero bonnet. Both cats needed my help tremendously during their healing. And yes, they both happened to have their respective surgeries while I was unemployed. (I'm really glad God likes to give a chick more than one chance to learn a particular lesson.)

I recently started to read a book that talked about how God can heal us after we've been wounded. However, I felt that the style of this particular book was simplistic and insensitive, so I chose to not finish reading it after all. But it got me to thinking about how restricting a wound can be while it's healing.

While Macho is wearing his superhero bonnet, he can't take care of himself like he's used to doing. He has to depend on me to clean up after him. (That is, if I don't want little surprise messes all over my home.) He doesn't seem to be in any pain (especially after I drug him up), and I don't detect any signs of infection, but he isn't operating at 100% right now. I've been very surprised to see him climbing all over furniture, even when I'm not looking (unless an earthquake just happened to hit my kitchen, with its epicenter located on top of my refrigerator). But I've seen a cautious hesitation while he's jumped up and down certain places. I'm sure he can feel that something is missing, and I'm sure he's wondering why he isn't allowed to take care of it himself. Well, he simply just needs to wait a couple of weeks for the vet to remove his stitches, and probably his superhero bonnet, and I think life will return to semi-normal after that.

I wonder what my invisible superhero bonnet looks like while I've been emotionally healing. I can definitely feel internal emotional flare-ups from time to time. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I've accidentally popped a stitch, but my Doctor is never far away, and He doesn't seem worried at all. This morning, He and I had a conversation that basically went like this:

ME: Why am I so [bleep]ing sensitive?

GOD: Why do you [bleep]ing think?

I've thought about how He created me in His image, and I've thought about how sometimes He allows me to experience the same type of pain that He experiences. He's reminded me that He's allowing me to know Him in the fellowship of His sufferings. I've thought about how the psalmists in the Bible seemed to write a song pretty much anytime anyone offended them, and they included the offender in the song credits (take Psalm 54 for example). There are certain times when God has reminded me that I can't be an effective songwriter if I can't experience emotions.

And there are other times when an answer doesn't come that easily. This morning, I saw a "picture" of myself with a ton of unplugged wires that had hot electricity surging through them. (I think in this "picture," the wires represented my emotions.) God let me "plug" one of the wires in, but before He did, I asked Him, "You did this, didn't You?" He truly didn't seem worried at all. He delights in me, even when I'm emotionally distressed. Zephaniah 3:17 says that God sings over me.

And I think perhaps I experience a taste of this every time I look at Macho and feel like singing "Easter Parade" over him. Heh, heh, heh. So adorable!

Sometimes different medical professionals prescribe different treatments for different reasons. Sometimes different medical procedures are more costly than others. Sometimes different medical treatments require more time or more dedication than others. I think emotional healing can be the same way.

One thing I know for sure (besides the truth that God is definitely my Healer) is that not allowing me to "work" can make me feel un-human.

During my extremely intense emotional healing process 14 years ago, the people at my church made me unplug from everything I was involved in. In addition to me adjusting to life after a suicide attempt, I also had to adjust to a new social group, a new housing situation, and a new job. It's as if I made one little mistake, and suddenly nobody trusted me. It was humiliating at times. For example, that one meeting when one of the church leaders said, "You haven't found a new job yet; this is starting to get frustrating" is a fairly terrible memory.

Now that I've been undergoing another round of emotional healing, the people at my current church keep giving me additional responsibilities, in healthy doses. I get to spend lots of time healing. But I also get to serve where I'm planted. It's as if nothing I confess will scare these people away. (Which is fine with me, because they're keepers.) They trust me to be myself and use my giftings. It's freeing. I feel like a human being. I feel like I'm actually trusted to discover and walk out my life's purpose. This is wonderful.

Seriously, I really think I was robbed all those years ago.

But perhaps while I was confined to my invisible carrier, God positioned me closer to Himself, even in the dark. I hope it delighted Him to hear me purring in the dark.

Just-add-water instant emotional healing formulas don't work for everybody. If they work for you, that is awesome. Please go for it. But sometimes people like me need lots and lots and lots of time to heal.

I got my wisdom teeth pulled last year (as you may have read about), and my gum-holes are still healing. New jawbone is still forming. And I'm OK with that. There were no complications from that surgical procedure, there have been no infections, and there has been no nerve damage. I definitely have God to thank for that.

He takes impeccably good care of me, regardless of whether it's physical healing, emotional healing, spiritual healing, mental healing -- you name it, He'll take care of it. But with me, He seems to keep highlighting the word "wait."

In Psalm 27 -- the "The Lord is my light and my salvation, so come on, enemy, give me your best shot" psalm -- verse 14 uses the word "wait" twice in the same verse. I'm not 100% sure why, but waiting seems to be extremely important to God. Patience (the art of waiting) is a fruit of the Spirit. Perhaps He knows that very interesting things can happen while a person waits. You can definitely see what is inside a person's heart when they have to wait on you. Anytime people tell me to hurry up, for no particular reason, it honestly doesn't make me want to be close to them. But maybe that's just my quirkiness.

I hope God cleans out whatever He needs to clean out of me while I'm waiting on Him, for Him, and with Him. I want whatever needs to be healed inside me to be thoroughly healed well. I don't want anything to do with band-aids anymore. They don't stick. And I definitely don't want to give myself any more infections. I would like for God to take His time and do whatever He needs to do while my invisible superhero bonnet is blocking my vision. I can't see anything back there, but God can see it all, and I want to trust Him to do whatever He needs to do.

Beep, beep. I'm picking up a Purina signal over here. Beep, beep, beep, beep.