Celebrating Easter with a Resurrected Foot

I won't swallow even an ounce of coffee in the morning. Instead, I'll wake before dawn, brush my teeth without swallowing water, and head to an outpatient surgery center where a surgeon will attempt to fix my right foot.

While I mostly have peace about the endeavor, I know from experience that the first two days post-surgery are rarely fun. So I fight a certain apprehension. Four to six weeks of no-weight-bearing almost take the fun out of using a knee-scooter.

Underneath the angst, however, a well of acceptance buoys the fear. It's not that I don't fight sadness. It's simply that as the medical journey's continued an internal muscle has grown strong, allowing me see my suffering in light of the atrocities around the globe.

My worldview has less of me in it.

And that's a good thing.

I haven't always been this way. I used to feel consumed by my illness, unsettled by decline.

But now I wonder how many people really have good access to drive-by surgery. Like the refugees in Europe. Or young girls lost in the sex trade. Or those who simply lack the funds to pay the upfront cost demanded by the medical center.

I live in a county filled with mcmansions. My home is small by comparison. But I've walked through the Guatemala city dump and passed by elderly Chinese people in a shanty town, cooking in an outdoor kettle.

The challenge isn't my illness. It's keeping that illness in perspective.

My story pulls hearts strings. Yes, even mine. I was widowed young. Lost the father of my children to a brain tumor. Then spent years wondering why I was so tired, only to be diagnosed with a rare genetic disorder that my youngest son inherited.

In our culture, my narrative is not the norm. But I'm just beginning to grasp that my suffering isn't nearly as big of a deal as I once thought.

Yes, a lot of personal dreams haven't come true. Finances still stress me out some times. And I wish we could spend more on vacations than medical deductibles - especially when I peruse Facebook too long.

But this is not our home. Not mine. Not yours.

I want to say something more, but I'm bone tired and need to wake in just a few hours.

So can I end by asking you to pray for me in the morning? The surgery is scheduled to start at 9:15 am. Dr. Tucker will be realigning my foot, attempting to make it face forward again to allow for normal strides.

I hope to be up for some semblance of an Easter celebration. But regardless, Christ is Risen. Our hope is secure. Our suffering is a passing thing in light of the glory that awaits.

So hold on. Believe. Celebrate... even if propped up on pillows, drugged up on pain meds, unable to walk.

Happy Easter.

(I spend Thursday mornings with a members of a local choir. So I'm posting this video in honor of the numerous times we've rehearsed this song for their Easter celebration. You've most likely heard The Hallelujah Chorus by Handel. But what about Hallelujah by Beethoven??)



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2

A Cat and a Nap Safe in my Lap

Last week, I discovered that I love Starbuck's vanilla iced coffee. Just thinking about it stirs longing.

It happened by accident.

I'd spent the night at Sam and Courtney's downtown apartment to be closer to my morning destination. But when I woke early and couldn't find their brew, I decided to buy some on the way. However, that plan derailed when Nathan called in need of help.

By the time I could stop at a Starbucks around noon, I was in desperate need of a caffeine fix. And coffee never tasted so good. The cool, strong liquid, mixed with just the right amount of vanilla-flavored sweetener, revved me up for my next appointment - a meeting with the surgeon.

Dr. Tucker explained that he will surgically fix my foot in three ways. First, he'll partially release the plantar fascia that runs from my heel to the front of my foot. Then he'll realign my first metatarsal and position it with a plate. Lastly, he'll make a small incision on the outside of my foot and sew the tendons together, hoping to strengthen them.

It sounds a little scary, but since he's comfortable performing it as an out-patient procedure, I'm hoping that means the recovery will be a little easier.

One can always hope. And drink vanilla iced coffee.

In the mean time, I received the final proofs for my book and am almost finished notating corrections. It feels surreal. After twenty months of work, my story will be in print. Soon! 

My foot may be failing. But a dream is coming true.

As I worked on my lap top in Bonnie's chair today, Eggs, my tabby cat, jumped up and tiptoed onto my lap. Since she rarely snuggles, I made room, stopped typing, and grew still.

Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight as she nestled onto my lap. When I settled my arm near her head, she burrowed against it and curled up for a nap.

Surprised, I sat still. Frozen in place. Uncomfortable, even.

For it's been several weeks since Eggs has stopped in my lap. Normally she begs to play by sprawling on the floor, stretching her arms and legs, and looking my way with a sweetness that beckons me to her side. 

Yet when I give way to temptation, she bats at my hands with her paws and nips at my frail skin with her sharp teeth. So lately I've ignored her, allowing my skin to heal.

But today, the soft, feisty kitty let down her guard so I could love her just a little. As I held her, I imagined the God of Heaven loving me.

Life can be confusing.

Good things flow as the bad things churn. Since they're often woven together into the fabric of our lives, the combination can keep us off kilter... or drive us to the place of rest, the refuge of love.

He's waiting, always. Only a prayer and a time-out away. He'll play cat and mouse to a point, but prefers deep, meaningful connection with us, His creation.

Oh to be still and know.

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4

A Boot, a Book, and Angels All Around

(Before I being, please forgive me for not being able to post on a regular basis lately. My schedule changed and I've struggle to figure out which day I can guarantee a post. Starting this week, I'm shooting for Monday evenings. We'll see how that goes. Thanks for your patience!)

A few sips of coffee still lingered in my mug last Thursday, when a student called to cancel our lesson. Since I needed to rehearse with a local high school choir around 3 pm before heading across town to accompany Nathan's high school choral concert later that night, I was grateful for time to rest and write.

Reclined in Bonnie's brown leather chair, I savored the quiet, took care of some emails, stood to walk some, and then stretched. After stretching, my right foot collapsed, rolled outward, and made forward movement a cumbersome challenge. 

It startled me some.

And then, I kept going.

While further decline overflowed into tears several times last week, I'm adjusting to the change. Far from lady-like, the awkward strides forced me to try my post surgical boot. And it helped.

Now, the very black, Star Wars looking contraption accents every outfit I wear. And may be an accessory for quite a while.

In all likelihood, I need surgery to realign my foot. My tall arches and cavovarus feet have created an instability that can only be surgically corrected. A surgeon will make the final call when I see him in a few days. But since he already suggested the fix in January, it's probably just a matter of time.


And that, dear friends, is the big, bad, scary news.

The good news? The very, very good news?

My book, titled, The Great Undoing and My Journey Home, will soon be in print, available for download and purchase.

I approved a cover design just this week and within days, should be looking over final proofs for the entire manuscript. So while I've been scheduling more doctor appointments, trying to find the best way to keep living, progress has continued.

The black boot signifies a slowed pace but the book speaks major forward momentum. However, the juxtaposition of the good and bad has squeezed tight in my brain some days, crossing the wires of despair and hope. When that happens, sparks fly, making tears fall.

Thus, I'm very grateful that I got to spend some time in the studio, recording two new songs today. Both are mentioned in the book with QR codes that link to where they will be posted on my web site.

So while you sift through your personal muck and mire (or the political ordure of the day) I hope this new song will encourage you as it has encouraged me. For even though I wrote it while caring for a dying friend two summers ago, it just makes me happy.

"When the servant of the man of God got up and went out early the next morning, an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city. 'Oh no, my lord! What shall we do?' the servant asked.

'Don’t be afraid,' the prophet answered. 'Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.'

And Elisha prayed, 'Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.' Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha" (2 Kings 6: 15 - 17).

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