In one of those old WWII submarine movies I used to love as a kid, during the inevitable depth-charge attack, one of the crew men was struggling to stop a leak.  A female "passenger" on the sub...a nurse or nun or something who was being "rescued"...approached and asked the crew man what she could do to help.  He explained that there was not really anything she could do;  that sometimes all you could do was "spit teeth and cuss".  She said, "Okay, I'll spit teeth..."  I was just a kid the first time I heard that, but it stuck.  There were many times in my life that I felt that way.  

I am sure you have had those circumstances when you felt totally overcome by events... felt that through no fault of your own, you have had to face consequences that you would rather not...and there wasn't a dadgum thing you could do about it.  All your life you have heard that adversity builds character,  but adversity builds more bums than characters.  I feel like I have more than enough character for my age;  I'd like to just get over for a change. Age is merciless.  I had my number two son, Humbordt, help me move some heavy boxes from Lowes to my garage.  Not too very long ago I would have wrestled them around myself.  I could barely keep up my end of the job.  But Humbordt had my back.  

 When I put my whiny little self to bed at night, I have to reflect on the friends and loved ones I know that are now in the spit and cuss mode and I have to admit, I have had it pretty good.  
Dave was my good friend, a huge man, a retired Sergeant Major, a big, smiley, happy guy with hands the size of dinner plates.  The last year of his life he shrank into a scarecrow shadow of his former self.  On his last trip to the doctor, they sent him home with the message that there was nothing at all that they could do for him.  His heart had become so weak he wouldn't survive the procedures he needed...and would undoubtedly need over and over.  He died in his bed a short time later.

 
We are watching another friend withering away, the prostate cancer spreading  to everything else.  He was an Airborne Ranger years ago, a fearless guy who still shakes his fist at his hoodlum neighbors.  Two years ago he would have handled them easily by himself.  Now I am glad they keep going and laughing.  The cancer is in his bones and the pain is excruciating.  He gets around fairly well, but he told me that once the hip breaks he is done.  

Two of my favorite cyber-ladies are battling their own physical wars right now.  One has been fighting a deteriorating spine (among a half dozen other ailments);  the other has recently been diagnosed with an "aggressive" brand of breast cancer.  Two very different gals who are more alike than they would care to admit.  Independent and outspoken, fearless and tough.  And soft on the inside.  And we cyber-love them both.

In all the discussions on this and my other blog site that centered around religion, I have stayed on the fringe.  I don't believe that the slam sessions that happen online do much to the convincing of the non-believer.  Most folks have pretty much made up their minds on what they believe and what they allow others to believe.  So it usually winds up in lengthy threads slamming scriptures and quoting spiritual "geniuses" and soon deteriorates into name-calling and accusations.  But, just for my two gals, I will make an exception.  Keep in mind that this is not an invitation to correct my wayward thinking or prove me a charlatan.  It is a simple statement of faith.  I know God lives.  I know he hears and answers prayers;  he has heard and answered mine.  In the times when my world was darkest and I could see no relief, when I was at last humble enough to realize that there was not a durn thing I could do to fix the mess I had made of things, I turned to the Lord and told him that it was too much for me to handle...I laid it at his feet and begged for help. The help came.  Sometimes it was a dramatic, almost miraculous solution.  Sometimes it was not the answer I wanted.  But the answers always came, accompanied by a sweet, warm sensation that confirmed to my heart that this was indeed the answer I sought.  

So.  When you think that all you can do is spit teeth and cuss,  remember that God loves you...seek the comfort that answers to prayer can offer.  The Lord may not strengthen your bones or cure your cancer...but He might.  Trust Him.