La La How The Life Goes On

Get Up

Posted on: May 3, 2011

As I’ve been recovering from round one of knee surgery this week, the words of Stuart Smalley have been echoing in my ears: “I’m not going to ‘should’ all over myself.”. It makes me laugh as I picture Al Franken in his lane bryant cardigan and pepto-bismol shirt repeating affirmations to get through his no-hope existence. It also makes me get off the couch and move when it would be easier (and kinda fun) to malinger a little bit. I think of Stuart because I actually don’t want to be the mom with a million excuses for why I should have done stuff but didn’t. “Ooh it hurts! Poor me!” Blech.

In between.Daily Affirmation giggles.I was also, you’ll be surprised to hear, thinking about Jesus. I know. LOLz, right? But I remember as a kid hearing a story, which I now know is from John, wherein Jesus meets this guy who has been sitting outside a temple, paralyzed, for…wait for it…38 years. He says he wants to be healed but all these people just pass him by and get in before him and waah waah waah. So Jesus says, “Get up”. And the guy is like, “Did you not hear me? I can’t get up.”. Jesus again says, Get Up. The guy gets up and walks.

Now, I know the message I was supposed to receive was all about the healing power of Hay-soos. But I didn’t get that at all. The story has stayed with me for a reason, and I think it’s because I was a) dumbfounded that someone could lie around for 38 years and b) because I kind of pictured Jesus being all (at the time, an 80’s reference) Sergeant Slaughter about the Get Up. I now prefer to picture Samuel L. jackson in the role, saying, “get up, motherfucker!”. Which of course is the only response one can offer when confronted with such a total lack of self-respect in another human.

Who knows if this ever happened, and we all mostly know that paralyzed people can’t just will themselves to walk simply because a bearded dude who looks like my friend Jules tells them to. But what I know for sure is that my girls will never NEVER see me prostrate and hopeless for one day, much less 38 years. Don’t misunderstand. They’ve seen me prostrate too many times for my personal comfort. But they have never seen me double-dip in the admittedly tempting bowl of self-pity and hopelessness. Not Gonna Happen. Why? Because I have human females to raise over here, and what kind of effing malpractice is that, to teach them to milk injuries, to roll over when confronted with a challenge, or to enjoy being helpless in that messed up time-to-visit-Dr-Phil way? It’s wrong. It’s insane. It’s unconscionable.

And not just because Samuel L. Jackson says so.


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