ru·mi·na·tions: Latin ruminatus, past participle of ruminari to chew the cud, muse upon, from rumin-, rumen rumen; perhaps akin to Sanskrit romantha act of chewing the cud
I woke up the other day and my leg hurt . . .
It felt like I’d hit something hard but there was no bruise. It felt like my muscles had turned to hard plastic. It didn’t feel good. And I knew what it was — phlebitis.
Sounds bad, doesn’t it? Nothing to do with fleas. Just inflammation. My vein in my leg was inflammed; and it hurt.
Kinda like where my life had been; it had been “inflammed,” and it hurt. That’s a story for another day.
I see a lot of “inflammed” lives that are hurting. Though they are all physically sick with little illnesses like cancer, diabetes, congestive heart failure and AIDS, their physical ailments are only secondary to what’s really happening. They have phlebitis of the soul.
Life as they knew it has come to an end; their heart/soul hurts. So many dreams, so many plans, so much to live for. But now, inflammation, pain.
I spoke with a lady I’ll call Sally. Terminal lung cancer. She felt her life was over. I told her it had only just begun.
Huh?
She didn’t understand life. She didn’t understand living. Shucks, she didn’t even understand dying. Its amazing what a few choice words can do to an inflammed soul.
You see, she has a purpose, a reason, for being here. It isn’t just to suck down good oxygen. A being so immense that it hurts my head to think about him being so large planned for Sally to roam this planet for several score of years. He stated that even before he made the world, God loved us and chose us. Did you get that? Before he made the world he already loved us. He had us planned before we existed. That was what I shared with Sally.
If she is that important to him, what’s a little cancer? She’s his child, his daughter, his little girl and he has really big plans for her.
Illness can be a real pain in the . . . leg, but it can also help you discard the unimportant and thereby help you focus on the essential.