Re-Learning How to Walk

I sat on the trampoline in the sunshine with Lawson yesterday, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon.  I was afraid to make my bare feet and toes bend and push off to jump up and down just yet.  I'm re-learning to walk after all.  After foot surgery, progress is slow, guarded, one tiny step (literally) at a time.  Things that were so second nature and so easily taken for granted before have become so much more of an effort now.  There are still many activities I am unable to do...may never do to my full capacity again.  I make adjustments every day, with every step I take...it is a process...

I was speaking with a friend by the front door for five minutes yesterday, knowing that Eva was alone in the basement playing.  I should have known better but thought to myself, "how much trouble could she possibly get into for just five minutes?"  I soon discovered the answer to that very foolish question when I found her, locked into the pantry with a Sam's Club container of cocoa powder that she had conveniently opened and spread all over herself and the floor.

I was racing out the door this morning with the kids, urging them gently along so we wouldn't be late (again) to Bible Study.  I grabbed Eva's diaper bag that we bring to class every week and peered inside because it seemed bulkier than usual.  I was startled to see an entire loaf of bread stuffed in the bag.  It was placed there the week before and forgotten about for an entire week.  Now, stale and hard as a brick, I grabbed it and threw it quickly into the garbage can.

Upon arriving at class, I was signing Eva into the nursery and reached down to push my gloves into my coat pocket.  My hand hit something hard, and I pulled out a plastic toy lion from the kids Noah's Ark set. 

I sat at the kitchen table with my mom tonight, trying to help her color a picture.  I handed her a marker, but she didn't understand what it was or what to do with it.  I had to help her open it, place it right side up in her hand, and show her how to place it down to paper to make a line. 

We tried to help Mom understand that it was Dad's birthday tonight, but I could see the all-to-familiar cloud of uncertainty sweep over her face once more. 

I'm re-learning how to walk...in more than one way.  I am constantly adjusting to the uncertainties of parenting, the loaves of bread I find tucked away in unexpected places, the uncertainties of growing older and the physical limitations that entails, whether in my own body or in my mom's illness. 

I come to humbly realize, with every apparent setback, that this is the natural course of life.  I was never meant to walk confidently, forever, in a straight line.  Every unexpected bump in the road, every twist in the path, every trial I may face has the potential to derail me...or make me stronger. 

I'm re-learning how to walk...relying not on my own strength, but with the strength God gives me each day...each hour.  I'm learning to re-train my thoughts...to humbly accept my limitations...to ask Him for help each tiny step of the way.

A Self-Made Prison...

I search the first floor for 2-year-old Eva...to no avail.  Calling to the older kids upstairs, I ask if she is with them...the answer comes back, "No."  And then I hear a faint crinkle from the kitchen closet.  Opening the door, ever so slowly, I find her, sitting on the floor of the closet in darkness.  She's removed her socks and placed one on her hand.  The other hand is gripping a bag of crackers, which she has opted for instead of the much healthier breakfast I have set out on the kitchen table.  What's even funnier about this whole scenario is that she isn't able to open doorknobs yet, which means that until I open the closet door for her, she is completely trapped, in darkness.

Though this silly new game, that occurs almost daily now, seems very juvenile and laughable, I'm struck by how similarly it reflects some of the choices I make.  Why do I choose what is unhealthy for me, for my heart, over what God offers me?  Why do I find myself sitting in darkness, when God frees me from it and gives me Light?

Colossians 1:13  For He has rescued us from

 the dominion of darkness 

and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves.

I'm able to laugh when I open the closet, releasing Eva from her self-made prison.  But as she crawls out, guilty crumbs on her face and hands...I reflect.

How often do I choose poorly, placing myself in my own self-made prison?  How often do I turn my back on all the good things God has so graciously set out for me, not because I have earned them but because He so mercifully loves me?  My sadness over Eva not eating her breakfast and opting for snacks in a dark closet can't possibly compare to the sadness God feels by the daily rejection He receives from the very beings He has created.

To stand back and watch this scene playing out, the choice seems an obvious one... who wouldn't choose freedom and light and a well-balanced meal...who wouldn't choose what will truly nourish and satisfy and enable him or her to flourish?

I open the closet for Eva to climb out, pick her up and dust her off.  My love for her is in no way diminished by the poor choice she has made.  I place her back in her seat at the table with a (healthy) feast awaits her.  And....my heart is ever so thankful...that God does this very same thing for me...time and time again...rescuing me from my own self-made prisons...

The Morning the Birds Sang...

 A few days back, I awoke, to the sound of bird song.  The sweetness and beauty of it after so many months of silence caught me off guard.  It was mostly disorienting because of the month we are in...still the deep of winter.  Just minutes later, the sound of a snowplow driving by our house on the street below drowned out all other noises.  Reality...



Later that same day, my oldest son, while watching the birds come for seed on our deck, commented that he was confused when he woke up because of the birds singing.  "I thought it was spring, not winter," he said.  Perhaps the birds sang that morning to usher in the first breath of spring.  Perhaps they were just calling to us to refill the bird feeders on a snowy day.  Or perhaps, it was a small reminder of God's power, His ability to transcend time and seasons and all of my human constraints and limitations.


It's amazing how keenly our senses are tied in to something so simple as birdsong.  Amazing how hearing a few sweet notes, sung in the morning hours, can trigger so many emotions and sensations. 

I find that when I am seeking God, really pursuing Him in earnest, He gives me the ability to see beyond the here and now.  When my day begins with the Son, He brings healing, He brings a heightened awareness of what is truly important in my life, He brings contentment, even on the difficult days, in the dark of winter.  Like birdsong on a snowy winter morning, He breaks through my reality to offer me something more.

The Lost Art of Wonder...

 I made a batch of bubbles for the kids earlier this week, on a morning that the temperatures soared and the sun was shining.  We headed outside to give them a try, and much to the kids delight, they worked perfectly.  (Unlike some other previous recipes we'd used!!)

For at least the next hour, we made bubbles....and Lawson and Eva chased and popped them.  What struck me, after just a short time watching the kids enjoy this activity, was the joy and wonder it brought them every time a huge bubble was created.  Their squeals of delight, their expressions...mouths gaping open in awe...none of it was prompted...it just came naturally to them to see something wonderful and exciting and to marvel at it.





Today as I ventured outside for a minute just to feel the warm air on my skin, I peered down and saw tulips beginning to poke out of the ground.  Just last week we were gripped by bone-chilling sub zero temperatures, and now, days later, the tulips have arrived.  I could have walked right by...chalking it up to "nature" and the natural cycle of life...but as I do every year, I stooped over to touch the first delicate shoots, a slight smile creeping onto my face.  I was in wonder...

I revisited one of my favorite Psalms this week...Psalm 19.

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.  

Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. 

They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them.

 Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun.    

It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,
    like a champion rejoicing to run his course. It rises at one end of the heavens
    and makes its circuit to the other; nothing is deprived of its warmth.

It struck me, in reading these words and in thinking about the marvels of Creation, how jaded we become, how little we pay it heed or truly allow ourselves even a minute to be in real wonder of it.  How jaded I also become to His presence in my life every day, of His love and the sacrifices He's made for me. 

 I am surrounded by wonder every day, Lord help me not forget that!  Help me to recognize the miracles, both great and small, from my waking moments until my eyes at last close at day's end.

Healing...

Stir crazy can really not describe the emotions coursing through our house right now.  After two long weeks of recovery from foot surgery, and the timing perfectly coinciding with some extreme winter weather and the cancellation of all plans, we are all ready for a break! And this weekend we got that break.  The temperatures soared into the 40's and 50's and yesterday, for the first time since January 22nd, I walked!  It was a strange feeling.  It had been so long...the longest I'm sure that I've ever gone without putting weight down on two feet.  Just a few days ago the pain was still intense enough that I couldn't visualize this moment.  Now, I have hope again...hope to be able to do the activities I've had difficulty doing for a long time now.  Hope to be able to run again.

Healing is an interesting process.  It began in a very dark place of the most intense pain.  The pain continued as bit by bit I had to start moving my foot again.  But now I can begin to see the light...

As I have had many long hours to ponder this process, I can see parallels to my spiritual journey.  I can see how there are times that God allows me to be inflicted with some pretty severe "wounds" and how He uses those experiences to deepen my faith, to increase my dependence on Him and humble me in regards to my tendency of self-reliance.  I can see how He generates a new and heightened appreciation for many things I overlook everyday when I am in pain.  Initially not being able to walk was so humbling and eye-opening for me.  Having to ask for help with some of the most basic daily functions, and be waited on by my family seemed like a total role reversal.

Now I feel like I am entering the final lap...though I know I still have many weeks, if not months before my foot is normal again.  I am on the road to a new and fresh beginning.  And I will store up these experiences from the past two weeks, take what I have learned, and hopefully have a new appreciation for many things going forward.

In the same way, at the start of this new year, I am asking the Lord to show me what He wills for me to do in the year(s) ahead.  I know that God allows pain in our lives because it serves a purpose.  I've experienced much emotional and physical pain the the past few years, but I still have HOPE.  As the beautiful words of Isaiah 58 proclaim, my salvation comes like the dawn and the Lord quickly brings me healing...there is light in my darkest hour, hope in my pain, and peace in knowing He guards me from behind.  For all of this and for my many reminders of how much I am blessed and how much I take for granted every day, I am thankful.  

Healing is never easy...progress is halting and slow...there will be lasting scars...but it also inspires a new strength, new resolve, and new awareness of how precious and delicate our lives are.  It gives me a new kind of courage and resolve to press on through my trials.  It makes me long for a day that there will be no more pain or sorrow, and strive to share that hope with others whenever and however possible...