Till I'm Hurtin' No More

I've been diving deep.

 It could be the sinus pressure that made me linger in bed. Or the cough that left me feeling like rocks churned in my chest. Or perhaps the amount of time I’ve abstained from Starbuck’s coffee.

Regardless, after Echinacea soup and a doctor’s visit, albuterol has me breathing better. Flonase has lessened the nasal pressure. And I’m seated in a Starbuck’s sipping a soy milk caramel macchiato.

 It’s a new thing. A way to get out of the house.

The music and chatter may distract, but it’s worth a try. I may even learn to prefer the background noise to the screaming silence in my house.

I attended three days of Vacation Bible School last week. Dressed in crazy costumes, I registered children as they arrived. But then workers discovered mold in our church building Wednesday, and VBS was cancelled.

So Thursday morning I woke to my first summer's day with no agenda. Thoughts turned to my book, so late in the afternoon I strolled into my local Barnes and Noble and asked if they’d stock it. When the manager agreed, I felt like...


I woke Friday ready to build on the previous day’s success. Thus, when I walked into physical therapy, I didn’t balk when they pushed my limits—again. But they went too far.

It was strange. All they’d asked me to do was to place my right foot in front of my left on a foam pad and balance. But I couldn’t do it.

My left ankle flopped back and forth like a dying fish.

Still, the therapist asked me to try again on a harder foam surface. I didn’t want to, but I also didn’t want him to think I was disagreeable. So I tried again—to no avail.

Determined, he asked me to balance on the hard floor. It still didn’t work and I finally said, “I really can’t do this.”
I could tell what he couldn’t… the foot was wearing out.

And sure enough, when I went to walk, I was pigeon-toed and unable to move forward without great difficulty.

I could feel the tears build, but prattled on about my kids and my book and anything else happy I could drone on about to keep emotions at bay.

sweet memories like these:
a springtime lunch


the mountains in July '14


chick-fil-a just two weeks ago


As I drove away from therapy, however, I lost it. I had planned to go to the grocery store, but changed course. At Nick’s BBQ, I headed to the food counter and fell apart - again.

You see I’ve handled leg weakness for a long time. But there’s something about this pigeon-toed thing that challenges me to the core. It throws my balance, feels unattractive, and requires extra focus and resolve.

Kind waiters filled my order and carried it to the car. So I went home, ate too many gluten-filled cheese biscuits, and wept.

For now I’m waiting to hear my surgeon’s opinion on scheduling the left foot reconstruction. Part of me hopes it will happen soon so the healing can begin, while another part of me wants the foot to calm so I can wait.

In the meantime, if I walk slowly and purposefully and hold my foot up straight, I can disguise the issue.

And that will have to do for now as I wait for docs to call and schedulers to schedule and days to unfold.

So I've been diving deep and writing songs.

I planned on sharing the other one, but Lu's keyboard didn't have a sustain pedal and this song works much better without it.

So here's to fighting for life, believing for love, and trusting that one day I won't be hurtin' no more.




photo credit: Good Morning via photopin (license)
8

Wherever Your Steps May Lead

Just down the hall from the registration tables at Vacation Bible School, a break room holds food, water, and... coffee. By mid-morning, I indulged a second time, succeeding only in accelerating my thoughts as the body tired.

Hours later, when I attempted to nap a second time, my phone buzzed more than normal, rousing me. Family members answered a Facebook call one-by-one, with half the participants joining from across the ocean.

Nathan, my oldest, two of his cousins, and a friend are traipsing through Germany and Austria for several weeks. The phone call confirmed they're having fun, and recent photos reminded me of why I enjoyed two visits to that part of the world many, many years ago.



I confess, it's odd to realize my son is off seeing the world while participating in VBS seems like a big accomplishment for me. But I'm happy to report my foot seems to be healing.

When I saw my doctor ten days ago, he ordered x-rays to confirm a stress fracture wasn't causing my added pain. With all bones deemed as they should be, he told me to come back for a steroid shot in a few weeks if the pain persists.

Look close and you will see the staple-type device they inserted in my first metatarsal to change the angle of the bone. It's one of three procedures done to put my foot straight again.



In hopes of avoiding more needles, Don and I went shoe shopping. With my recently flattened, now size 9 right foot, it's a challenge to match my high arched, size 8 1/2 left foot. But a pair of Birkenstock sandals surprised me and left me hopeful.

A pedicure might be in my future.



I helped with VBS set up last night. I cut strips of yellow duct tape that another mom stuck on the hallways floors, turning carpet into a thoroughfare. The yellow stripes curve in a few paces for added fun. But most importantly, I made a new friend in the process.

Rhoda and I didn't just build a road, we started a friendship. Walking the halls of my church enriched my life simply because I journeyed there with another.


No my feet won't carry me to Europe these days or across another ocean for an adventurous mission trip. But my slowed steps took me far enough two weeks ago that these girls were able to perform our year end recital play.

 



The day after our show, I went out for an hour and promptly headed back to bed for the rest of the day. It took many more days before ordered reigned in my home and life came back to my bones because I just couldn't take many steps that week.

But just yesterday I built a highway in our church. A road that a hundred kids or so can follow as they trek to and from classes, learning more about Jesus.

My steps aren't taking as me as far as I'd like to go. But they're taking me far enough to make a difference.

How about yours?

Cause you never know where a few steps may lead.

2

Who's Next?

We all probably thought it.

Just over twenty-four hours after another massive shooting, we woke, sipped some coffee, and asked, "Who's next?"

Movie goers? Marathon runners? Elementary school kids? A Christian prayer group? Clubbers at a gay bar?

 Notice the trend?

There isn't one.

 And so we wonder, "Who's next?" Your loved one or mine?

 Before I make much of the growing predicament we're in, my thoughts drift to those who already live day to day in harsh environments.

 I don't know them personally. But I read about them in the news and on blogs. And even with our current news, their plight still trumps mine.

 You know... those who wake every day not knowing when violence will overtake their village or home or city. Or those who have already lost everything, left what little they had, only to find themselves tossed between countries with no where to go.

 We're typically insulated from up close encounters with those life experiences. But they're creeping in. 

 The violence is real. The fear somewhat paralyzing. The loss sometimes larger than life.

However, by days end yesterday, I sat in a wooden pew, in a downtown church I only learned about a few weeks ago. And I wasn't alone.

When you step into the church, you step back in time to when wooden pews, paneled walls, choir lofts, and Baptismal fonts (highlighted by paintings of rushing water) were the norm.

 Yesterday, that felt good. Comfortable even, albeit, a little too warm without air conditioning.

So why pray in the heat?

Several months earlier, a member of the church's small congregation went on a mission trip with members of the church I attend, Sanctuary Church. While overseas, the young woman learned how our pastor, Craig Bowler, met and partnered with another aging pastor who had been praying for God to use his outdated building for a new generation of believers.

Over five years later, our congregation is thriving.

So the young woman asked, "Could you do that again?"

 You see, Brownsville Memorial Baptist church is located on prime, Atlanta real estate. Yet its aging pastor recently turned down a several million dollar offer to sell the land. Instead of profiting from a sale, he's hoping our congregation will stand along side their small band of Christ followers and help revitalize what was once a thriving community of faith.

 So we prayed.

As news threads continued to spill out grimy details about the most recent assailants past, we prayed for something new. For God to move. For lives to find the hope and peace that are ours through faith in Jesus Christ.

So who's next?

Maybe one of the women who live in the homeless shelter next door to the church. Or maybe one of the small business owners who work close by. Or maybe even one of the young singles who lives in the new splashy apartments just up the street.

Maybe, they'll pass the church, hear the whisper of His voice, and take time to sit in His presence and lean into faith.

That's what we prayed for, and that's what I'm believing God will do. In the midst of violence and strife, He will make Himself known to His people.

I played the piano for the Brown Memorial service last week. Before I left, a young homeless woman approached me and asked if I knew a certain hymn. I couldn't recall it at the time, but after a google search, I have it down and will play it there next week.

 Enjoy... and go lay your burden down.


photo credit: Faith via photopin (license)
2

Praising when Pain Prevails

While internet voices debated between the life of a child and a gorilla this week, I spent hours prepping for a book signing and an upcoming student recital. But even though my schedule was full, as coffee spread through my system this morning, I chided myself for not completing a post before today.

Then I took a few steps.

 Determined to use my toes as my foot rotated forward, I strolled through manageable discomfort... until a jolt of pain caused a scary yell that sent Eggs, our tabby cat, running under the bed.




As for me, I wanted to swallow an oxycodone and crawl back under the covers too. But I didn't.

I cried a little. Sent a SOS text to my Bible study girls. And then shared my angst via phone with my daughter-in-law, Courtney.

It finally dawned on me that it's hard to keep pace when searing pain hampers daily progress. By days end, I've been wiped out and out of words.

And that's the bad news.

 On the flip side, one of my students wrote a princess tea party play we're performing next week. Props are strewn across my living room. A tall, painted, three-sided flat almost reaches the ceiling. And the china I never use decorates the table.




More photographic evidence proves that the Tuesday night book signing event was another success. Nathan, Josh, and I sang a favorite song.

Church friends I've known for years showed up. 






Our former neighbor, Val, came to remind us that she taught my sister and me how to boil water... or not.


 Another Susan going through her own struggles offered a big hug.


 Supportive family hung around till the room emptied.


And Rick, a graphic designer who knew Jason before I did, brought artwork that my former spouse completed years ago.


Seeing Jason's handiwork added a special touch.


And yes, I asked for this pose. Nathan sent me the photos today and I enjoy seeing me look so happy. In fact, we all look happy.
Like we love my book.



Since I'm still in a fair amount of pain, pausing to remember feels good - much like eating the bowl of frozen vanilla yogurt topped with peanut M&M's Don brought home an hour ago.

 While lugging a wounded appendage has grown old, I want the sweet to outweigh the bitter. It's a daily struggle.

 Tonight, I confess, the sugar intake helped.



 In closing, I want to add that as I reflect back on this week, I didn't encounter one person I would give for the life of a gorilla. Not one.  

 But nothing's easy in the news world these days. We're an argumentative bunch. Minions full of opinions that feel the need to verbally race on the internet highway.

It tires me out like the pain in my foot. And I have to work to stay focused on the sweet over the bitter.

But it's there. Tonight it showed up when Don brought groceries home that satisfied a physical craving.

 And tomorrow morning, when the worship music begins, I'll settle into the presence that really makes all the bitter melt away. In fact, maybe I should set my mind and heart there now.

May His praise ever be on our lips.


photo credit: Lonely cat via photopin (license)
photo credit: Overly Green via photopin (license)
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