Hanging On or Pressing In

As I drove home this afternoon, I craved a cup of coffee. In fact, I almost stopped for a cup of expensive, rich brew, but remembered what the pastor said yesterday, “Avoid cheap escapes.”

I wanted something to sooth my inner ache and release the heavy weight that wouldn’t let go. Coffee may have offered a momentary distraction, but I wouldn’t have come home and blabbered on while my husband cooked lunch. After using a necessary amount of womanly words, the clouds parted. But with a pile of unknowns ahead, I have to let go in some ways and keep pressing on in many others.

I want to shake this off, but I’m stuck in a very weird place. Almost two weeks out from seeing the hip surgeon, her people still haven’t scheduled the procedure. And after a very odd call with a nurse last week, I’m plumb worn out of trying to explain my plight.

About a week ago, I realized I can no longer wear the AFO on my right foot without stirring pain in my hip. “Just don’t wear it,” the nurse offered. Sounds simple, but it creates a host of other issues.

For one, you have to wear lace up shoes with AFO’s. With the AFO’s on, I can walk in closed-toed tennis shoes pretty well. But when I ambulate in tennis shoes with only an AFO on my left side, my right foot flops some. It has for years. Which is why I often wear slip on shoes that don’t constrict my ankle. The less my foot has to rock forward, the better.

At home I'm fairly stable. But when I was out this week, the struggle grew very real.

Ironically, in the midst of processing the decline, I spoke at two luncheons in Tennessee. I shared my Jesus story before and after the call with a nurse that left me weeping. The bad news was sandwiched in between my testimony of hope. For when I stand in front of a group of women with ample time to recall some of the sweetest moments in my walk with God, my heart soars.

Remembering helps. Remembering the day God’s love transformed my insides and I started writing songs. The day I marched around my back yard, determined to have the walls of our Jericho fall down, and ended up with a new song that still moves me every time I share it. And the day a sonic boom rocked my house only moments after I read, “Return to your fortress, O prisoner of hope; even now I announce I will restore twice as much to you” (Zechariah 9: 12 NIV).

Even now, the stories make me smile. But soon after I finish sharing them, I pack up my speaker and mic, drive away, and the real-world settles in.

Normally get to bask in the high a little longer than I did this week. But between the pain and maneuvering with one AFO on and one off, I felt off kilter. And then I learned the hip surgeon doesn’t have openings until October and even then, her schedule isn’t open and she's hesitant to fix it.

Forlorn in my fortress, I had to fight for hope. And truthfully, I’m still pulling out every weapon in my spiritual arsenal to stay emotionally afloat.

Even now, as I type, I’m offering thanks. Thanks for my lap top. My cell phone. The view out my window. My health—even! The walker in my car. My car. My family. The rain that poured this afternoon. Warm summer days. My friend, Lu, who drove me to Tennessee and back. The plants on my kitchen table. My cat who ambushes me in the morning. My husband who cooked lunch today.

There are thousands of every day simple things to thank God for, no matter how I feel. In offering thanks, I turn from inward distress to the place where praise ignites the divine, breaking the chains that bind my soul.

So, I’ll determine to praise and even trust.

In closing, I want to share that if you read the following invite, you'll notice that I'm this years honoree at the 9th annual Hope Flies event...

The event will be held Friday, September 21, 2018, 7 pm at The Fairmont in Atlanta. You can purchase tickets or make a donation at this link: Hope Flies.

And if by chance you’re more in the mood for a new $15.00 t-shirt, check this one out because all proceeds go to Hope Flies.

I’d love to get about ten more orders before I have them printed. With Mitochondrial Disease Awareness week only a few weeks away, I’d also love to have some friends wear the shirt and come over and either watch me crack an egg on my head... or better yet, wait till dusk and light candles to spell out M-I-T-O!

Doesn’t that sound like an event you can’t pass up??

I’ll have the time and date set next week. Till then, sing, praise, thanks, push through, and maybe...

CLICK HERE TO BUY A T-SHIRT

Giraffes: Jason Schreer

Design: Riley Hogan

Printing: Shirt Shanty