The Wringer Chronicles, Volume III

1) A pain in the neck
I never wondered where the phrase "a pain in the neck" came from until about a couple of weeks ago. Seasonal allergies flared up pretty bad, and after PND and a sore throat, I developed a cough. I think I have some powerful sinuses and lungs or something, because I can cough pretty darn hard. (About 10 years ago, after I developed a sharp, mysterious pain in my side, a doctor diagnosed me with "coughing so hard that I hurt myself.") Several days after my allergies went crazy, my neck started hurting. At first, it was like a crick right in the middle, but then it developed into a dull, sharp stiffness that made it painful to turn my head.

Checking my blind spot while driving was painful enough, but I discovered that I use my neck muscles for pretty much EVERYTHING else, too. Even while I was popping Motrin or Tylenol, sitting at a computer for 8 hours hurt. Reclining to watch TV or a movie hurt. Trying to sleep REALLY hurt, and I'd toss and turn until I applied some generic Ben-Gay, because I just couldn't get comfortable. The pain kind of shifted from one muscle group to the next until it finally went away altogether, Hallelujah. My cough hasn't gone away completely, because the rainy weather has kept allergens mixed around in the air, but I've noticed that I kind of smush my neck against my shoulders when I cough now so as to avoid additional injuries.

But I was struck at how near-paralyzing and constantly annoying it was to have a pain in the neck. I don't want to treat anyone to the point where they'd call me a pain in the neck. I was reminded about how in the Bible, after God set the Israelites free from slavery in Egypt and gave them some laws to follow and provided everything they needed, they stubbornly disobeyed Him. He called them a "stiff-necked" people -- I guess it's as if they had paralyzed themselves in their own stubbornness! I don't want to be stiff-necked with God. I want to be soft and pliable.

2) Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide!
I trim my cats' claws once a month. During April's claw-trimming, Tessie was cooperating just fine until I got to the last claw to be trimmed, which had grown so long and thick that it was practically fusing onto the paw-pad. She freaked out when I gripped the clippers around it. I spent nearly half an hour chasing her around the apartment. Her entire 7-pound being growled in rebellion as she angrily ran and hid from me. Finally, she disappeared under a chair in the living room. When I pulled the chair back, she was so stunned that I was able to grab her and trim away the layers that had grown so thickly around that little claw. You see, she thought she was safe hiding under that chair because I hadn't moved it since we've lived here.

May's claw-trimming wasn't as time-consuming because she surrendered right away. I think she learned that it's no use hiding from me. I'm her mama who loves her and wants what's best for her. (And I'm way bigger than she is.)

I hope I don't act as stubbornly as Tessie does sometimes. If God needs to trim away something in my life, I hope I don't resist and hide underneath something that I think is unmovable. He can move mountains. I should be able to let Him pull me out from under pride, unforgiveness, insecurity, or whatever my metaphorical living-room chair is.