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Gonna throw in a few thoughts about this, knowing that I’m amongst adult friends whom I believe to be of above-average intelligence.

I’ve smoked since I was a kid. A wee one. My Mom who, passed away recently of unrelated-to-smoking illness, would have me light her cigs for her when I was little girl. That’s where it began and I’ve often wondered, due to my believing that’s the only thing I ever did right in her eyes, if I’ll ever kick it.

The first time I quit, I made it to day three, IIRC. I was never told about the extreme trembling (rattling the walls while lying in bed), but I made it through! The same day, the Twin Towers came down. I went to my Mom’s during my lunch hour to watch more news and, of course, I lit up again because … well, looked like we were going to war and seemed like life could’ve been cut short at the time and so on. ‘Course, I still had to light up hers anyway! Did that until she died, actually.

After having had a failed back surgery that left me with a paralyzed leg (mostly recovered), and having a disorder of the brain’s largest nerve (known affectionately as the “Suicide Disease”) and a host of other health problems, I’m pretty much stuck in a chair all day on most days trying to do something to help someone else to make my life meaningful in some way until the Good Lord takes me home.

The very last time I tried to quit was last year. Two or three days into it (quitting, that is) is when my Mom got taken to hospital for the final verdict, my daughter moved in a for a tumultuous, to say the least, year and a half, and my husband’s employer of 20+ years laid off everyone and locked up shop forever. So, yes, I lit up a cig.

Ha. I have a fear now of trying to quit!

I struggle mostly with it on the moral level because I fear it may displease Our Lord and Savior and that causes tremendous guilt. It became unbearable at one point and there was a load of praying. Then, while driving to see my Mom for one of the very last times in this life, I was listening to a call-in show on American Family Radio. I had been praying desperately for an answer from God about smoking. A lady called in saying that she had been praying for answer from above because she couldn’t kick it. She said she got her answer clear as a bell: “I don’t condemn you, but you may die sooner.” Now, take that however you wish, but it answered my question and eased my conscience a bit.

In the end, I have worse things than nicotine out to get me. I don’t fear pain anymore. It’s become my closest friend; always, always around. Matter fact, here right now after having forced me from my sweet slumber at 2:30 this morning. I certainly don’t fear death, as I know I won’t be alive to experience it and I know in Whom I have believed. If a person has lived a very painful life, death is looked forward to as a final and forever painkiller. A joyous release. I don’t wish to die anytime soon, but I won’t be complaining any when it finally comes knocking.

Guess I just wanted to throw out that there are people who smoke, or do other things, for reasons unapparent that we may not understand. Who thinks of a 5-y/o lighting up for Mom? (You know what? I damn near feel obligated to smoke. No kidding. It’s something more than the nicotine.) Also, who knows? Worse things could be in their life than lighting up a smoke.

There are tons of things I won’t do and I live my life by the Ten Commandments. I see people do things I know I wouldn’t do and always take a second’s pause to ask what could be in the person’s life that causes them to do such and such. Hell if I know what pain could be lurking underneath the outward action.

I guess in the end it’s about grace. Having enough of it to extend to another and say, “I hope the best for you” and actually mean it.

My hat’s off to the quitters: I congratulate all of you!

My hat’s off to the smokers, too: I hope the best for you! Hope you’re lighting up at ninety-two!

Kindest Regards,