March 11, 2014 · 11:59 pm

When You Give

In the second grade, I was in Mrs. Brumfield’s class. There are a few special memories I think of when remembering Mrs. Brumfield and her class: She always wore bright red lipstick and because she used my personal book, Abel’s Island, to read to the class for our afternoon reading time, I have a smudge of that red lipstick in the front cover of my book. It still remains one of my favorite children novels. Our circular building held classrooms divided like a pie and our door faced the playground–I especially liked the monkey bars, so much that I gave my palms blisters; but once my name was written on the chalkboard and I had to stay in from recess.

Mrs. Brumfield’s favorite type of animals were pigs. We even made “pigs” using pantyhose stuffed with pillow cotton and after we tied off the curly tail, we hot-glued on felt ears and sewed buttons for the eyes. My pig has pink ears and purple buttoned eyes…and it is in my special box. On our birthday, we got to make a chart using pictures from home to tell the class a bit about our favorite things and about our family. A family member was invited to attend and sit with us up front, but because neither mom nor dad could attend mine, Mrs. Brumfield allowed my best friend at the time, Stephanie, to sit with me.

At the end of the day, there were two dismissal bells for the bus shifts. Because I left on the second bell, this allowed me ten extra minutes of reading time…as we always ended the day with quiet reading in our own “corners or desks areas.” Being a book nerd from an early age, I took this time seriously and never wanted to leave class at the second bell if I was in mid-sentence. And Mrs. Brumfield gave us a take home assignment, but it was “fun” homework: when it was our turn, we took home a large Ziplock bag containing a book, entry log, and a stuffed animal of a mouse in overalls holding by Velcro–a chocolate chip cookie. Our assignment was to log our different activities of what we did with our new pal. Mom tried to find a few educational activities. 🙂 The hardest part was keeping track of the cookie! The book:

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If you have read either this book or the other, If You Give a Moose a Muffin, the overall concept of the story is the same: you give and they keep asking for more–eventually circulating back around to what was initially given.

Recently, my parents went on an extended weekend vacation back to Colorado. It was not initially the reason why we set the Lifeline for use, but it was planned to have that established before their trip for safety reasons. My weekend was not much different from others. I had a few appointments already set, tasks I needed to accomplish and had some sister chat times. I carried out my days like usual routine–my own breakfasts and lunches. Several ladies from my parent’s Sunday school class signed up to deliver hot meals for my dinners. I cannot tell you how much that was appreciated!! A few ladies contacted me just to see how I was doing and if I needed anything. Genuine kindness.

Mom did ask a girl from town around my age to come in the evenings to spend the night (mainly for my Lifeline factor), but also to help take out trash, clean Muffy’s kitty litter, help with dishes and anything else I might need. We decided this was best in their absence–she came in around 10pm and left in the mid-mornings for her other duties and jobs. It worked nicely and since the Olympics were still being covered in Primetime, I usually was in the basement at the end of the day relaxing and working on a friend’s late Christmas present while watching the Games.

I really cherished the weekend, but also saw how much I possibly take for granted within my family all the extra help they give so selflessly. Miriam would ask if I needed help with anything else before going to bed herself and unless it was something I just couldn’t do, like unbutton my new sweater so I could wear it the next day, I didn’t initially ask for much assistance. Maybe it was embarrassment, maybe pride. Maybe I am used to my family seeing me struggle, like when I try to pick up medicines that have fallen to the floor, and they just come to the rescue without my asking. Or often, maybe I am just tired of asking for people to give their time and help–as I turn more dependent, I am becoming stubborn and wanting to still do things on my own. How do I balance between the two? It is something I am still in process of learning.

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March 5, 2014 · 6:08 pm

Clumsy Me

Considering how clumsy my hands have been lately, yesterday morning I thought I was functioning pretty normal: no spilled coffee or dropped medicines, no broken dishes while unloading the dishwasher, efficient in time getting ready and typing (finger poke) a few quick emails. By noon, I was on my way down to the basement to start the top portion of a large painting.

I was having no problems getting my paint tubes from their assorted-by-color plastic containers on the floor and only had one jammed lid due to dry paint. The sole reason I forgo getting beauty nails at a salon is that I manage to paint my own nails (and hands for that matter) in a very festive way. I also chip my nails in a very festive way…and as such was my painting morning.

Somewhere along the way in the afternoon, the tides changed and my hands resumed their clumsy status. Of course the cold fingers could also be associated with part of the problem. I am very thankful that I have not done damage to assets like my laptop as I carry it from my room to the kitchen. I drop my cell phone repeatedly, but it has a protective cover–that is now cracked (time for a new one!)

Yesterday before dinner, I asked Mom to carry my laptop for me back to my room–a brilliant request as I was losing my grip on many other things during the evening…in particular, circular objects like my biscuit full of apricot jam and cylinder shaped objects like my Hazelnut creamer as I was pulling it from the refrigerator shelf. It fell to the floor, lid cracked, and about what I would blend in three cups of coffee spilled on the floor. It was the grand finale to my day.

I’ve written blog posts before about my hand history: how the muscle atrophy started, Occupational Therapy sessions, finger splints and other devices to help my function as my hands weaken, and my left ring finger resembling the appearance of a “Gonzo nose.” And although my MRI results since November have reported back as a stable status, there is a continuing message coming from some tumor (unknown) to the brain that blocks the message to the muscles in my hands–specifically fingers and thumbs. Hence, since November, I have experienced a loss of hand function…which means more weakness, more numbness and 7 more fingers that now too are starting to resemble a “Gonzo nose.”

In moments of clumsyness (or flat-out frustration, embarrassment), I sometimes have a moment of humor–where I can smile contrast to grunts or tears. Enter: Yzma.

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In Disney’s Emperor’s New Groove, Yzma goes from being Emperor Kuzco’s long-time guardian and advisor to being fired after she plays “Empress” in his absence. In a fury, she devises a plan to rid the empire of Kuzco and reign in his place. All goes well and according to plan until her handyman, Kronk, burns his spinach puffs at a dinner they prepared for the Emperor. Kronk dashes to the kitchen leaving behind the freshly filled cups on the platter, in which one is intended for Emperor Kuzco with poison. Upon returning, Kronk realizes his mistake, takes the platter to the side, blends all the liquids together returning a portion into each cup, and then gestures to Yzma not to drink hers. She quickly throws hers in the plant beside her, turning it too into a llama (but looks more like a horse.)

At the end of the movie, Emperor Kuzco has had an adventure that leaves him with a changed heart and a new friend, Pacha. As these two enter Yzma’s secret lab to retrieve the bottle that would turn Kuzco back into human form, Yzma and Kronk are already there. As Pacha tries to quickly grab the potion, Yzma knocks the shelf so all the bottles land on the floor. “Oops! Clumsy me,” is what she says. 🙂

My hands–as they continue in this weakening and clumsy state–are another part of my journey. I cannot lie that I have had many thoughts about what life will be like in the event I lose complete hand function. “What am I going to do when I can’t use these?” I cried a few months ago in the kitchen holding up my hands for Mom to see. Mom didn’t have any answers; I didn’t expect her to either. I know God holds the answers…to my prayers in all the uncertainties and fears, hopes and dreams. Unlike Yzma, I will never hear Him say, “Oops! Clumsy me.” Because He has promised me forever in the palms of His hands.

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March 3, 2014 · 11:59 pm

My Latest Days

Oxymoron: (from the Greek),

an expression with contradictory words: a phrase in which two words of contradictory meaning are used together for special effect

(Bing Dictionary)

“Are you ready to sleep in and enjoy your first day of Spring break tomorrow?” It’s Friday night and we are driving home from a spur of the moment decision a few hours earlier to go out to eat as a family and attend a Nicole Noredeman concert. The fast food dinner, Piada: Italian Street Food, was a new experience and a most tasty one! My main reason for going out that evening was simply dinner with family; I had initial thoughts of not going, but quickly resolved that I could read a few chapters in my book when the others enjoyed the concert session. The concert being at a church, I sat reading in the foyer and got to text my sister, Megan, as well. An evening satisfactory to all.

My question on the drive home was at a red light; there was enough street lights glowing for me to lip read. Marcia slightly nods but adds, “I think I would rather have a full day of doing nothing than sleeping in all day.” I nod in agreement, but as the fullness of her sentence replays in my brain, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing! “Do you realize that what you just said is a huge oxymoron!!” I continue to rant in laughter about this sentence and we discuss it for a few more minutes until it is dark again. The rest of the drive home, I sit in silence.

“A full day of doing nothing.” Right now, my days sometimes feel like this. It is not that I am actually “doing nothing” all day–more what I am doing is nothing planned on my agenda. I am notorious for daily to do lists…there are days when I see great progress and check marks on the sheet of paper; other days, I simply cross off the current ‘day” and set the next in hopes to complete the projects then. I don’t think it is necessarily bad to make lists (I would forget important events/dates/details otherwise), but it has also taken me a few years to learn to become flexible. I am still learning to be flexible. And so, my latest days have been filled with being flexible and “doing nothing” on my to do lists.

Take today for example. I was hoping to get up early and have my usual breakfast with coffee/readings. My list entitled doing the dishes and getting my laundry done; making a phone call to my grandparents; finishing a painting; writing a blog post (different one than this); and finishing a book. Actual day included rising early–nothing like a Charlie horse cramp in your right leg for an alarm clock–and falling out of bed, because I had put my right foot forward in attempts to get to the bathroom. You hear people talk of starting your day by getting out on “the right side of bed” (figurative); since I already have that part complete (literally), I say, “Start your day with your best foot forward.” Obviously for me, it is my left foot.

I contemplated getting ready for the day and having my coffee time early. Instead, I crawled back in bed figuring I can read a little; if I fall asleep, I assumed that I would wake in an hour or so and be back on my feet around 9am, as that is pretty typical. I end up waking four hours later..bummed that I had wasted my morning hours, I get brunch and coffee anyway. I get ready for the day, type a few emails and run some errands in town with Mom in the mid-afternoon. When we returned, I had about an hour before I was to have a Skype session and so I started my laundry.

My Skype chat was to be with a group of girls from the University of Cincinnati DAAP about my artwork. A social worker from Children’s Hospital–who was the first person to initiate my paintings as part of an art viewing when I first moved here-had given my name and contact to this group, “Art for Survivors,” led by Jenny Ustick. Since I cannot make the actual class in physical presence, Jenny suggested Skype.  I brought up some paintings from the basement to show and ask my questions. My session was set with three students of Jenny, who were familiar with my painting styles through my blog. It was a great conversation! I asked my questions on how to thicken my paint for texture, abstract ideas, different brush sizes for different techniques, and pricing artwork. They gave me some suggestions for new abstract techniques and will gather some painting medium information for me as well. Towards the end, art shows were mentioned and I was invited to take part in their art viewing in April.

Suddenly, my “full day of doing nothing” turned into an evening of full possibilities! I am ready to restart my paintings–growing and learning in the process; living in flexibility. “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.” Colossians 3:23

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February 27, 2014 · 2:14 pm

I didn’t finish…

I have to admit that while I am a Summer Olympic Games fanatic, the Winter Olympic Games definitely have a few personal highlights: figure skating, luge, curling (which was never aired this year at normal hours; I could never get myself out of bed at 3:30am to watch the event…sad) and a new fascination for Slopestyle skiing. Not being naturally talented at any of these, or any other events for that matter, my most common response while watching the performances went as such: “That’s INSANE!” Yes, pretty much insane, but this is what these athletes train for–the dream, the passion, the Olympic moment.

During these games, I realized that I sympathized with the athletes who had a hard time performing in their events–not being able to land their jumps and twists, coming in a split second short of being on the medal podium, the emotions of personal background stories of their own family losses…these moments remind you that even the greatest athletes are human. And while there were many memorable moments to celebrate in outstanding performance victories, I believe the greatest victories were evident from the athletes who struggled. They fell down, yet picked themselves up to finish their performance. It showed true determination. True victory.

I was most impressed by the figure skating performances. Now, I have a hard enough time standing and balancing on my own two feet as it is…so if shoes consist of having attached blades, wheels or anything that causes movement–such as skis or snowboards–I don’t touch them. But this was not always the case. Growing up, I did enjoy skiing (I learned to ski at age six and skied through high school years), a little snowboarding (until mid-college days when my balance turned for worse), rollerblading, ice skating (we had a frozen pond out in the back field or we used the ditch across the road), and roller skating (except the last memory, in which I took a fall at the YMCA center leaving me unable to get up on my own and a trip to the ER: thus, it confirmed that my days of moving feet business were over!)

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Being somewhat a helpless romantic when it comes to either ballet or figure skating–and maybe combination that this Olympics, due to deafness, I couldn’t hear the figure skating music–I started to think of songs that I would perform my routines to in the event that I was a figure skater. For a short program, because judges score on technical activity, I thought fun songs, such as “I have Confidence” from the Sound of Music or “Linus and Lucy” from The Peanuts would be lively. And the long, free skate program: “Moonlight Sonata” by Beethoven! It is a deep emotional song…a performance could be so lavishing.

I did perform “Moonlight Sonata” my senior year of high school; not in a free skate performance, but for my senior piano recital. I had been playing piano since the first grade. I had memorized pieces of Bach and Beethoven in the past, but “Moonlight Sonata” was my last. I memorized the music, practiced until I felt secure in the music, and set out for my performance. I am not one for audiences. I tried to calm my nerves. The piano faced the wall. I was staring in white. I started to play with shaking hands.  “Moonlight Sonata ” is not a fast tempo music. It is a slow tempo…deep emotions. I let my mind wander for a split second in which I lost my concentration. My mind went as blank and white as the wall I faced.

I stop and turn to the audience. “I need to start over.” I get nice reassuring smiles. By now I cannot get my mind and thoughts to relax. I restart the piece, but struggle in mid-way…again my mind goes blank. I feel a flush flow to my face turning my cheeks red and stinging tears about to drop from my eyes. To avoid crying on stage, I simply get up from the bench, take a slight bow, and return to my seat. My dad whispers, “Don’t cry. They are going to take group pictures,” and gently puts his arm around my shoulders. Too late. Tears abound. No one mentioned my performance. People understood. But I held it against myself: I didn’t finish.

There are days when I ask God how I am to finish the task set before me, when I feel as if my physical body simply is just staring into a blank white wall. Circumstances seem too difficult, uncertainties leave room for doubts and questions of my abilities. I still struggle with wanting to be doing bigger things, but was reminded graciously that if I am faithful in the small, God will reward with more when I am ready. Olympians are not made overnight. They train in the small daily tasks for years…with the reward of a bigger performance than they ever imagined.

The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not winning but taking part; the essential thing in life is not conquering but fighting well.

~Pierre Coubertin, founder of the International Olympic Committee; “Father of modern Olympic Games.”

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February 26, 2014 · 11:41 pm

Weekend Projects

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My painting table starts off with one painting.

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I have left over paint.

I grab another white canvas from the shelf.

Another painting to the table.

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Ideas emerge.

Creativity enlightens.

Another canvas is added to the table.

Paint starts to dry.

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Details take the completing stages.

As the glue dries, the paintings are nearing the end of another artistic session.

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My painting table is now empty.

It is ready for a new weekend.

A new white canvas full of possibilities.

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February 21, 2014 · 12:38 pm

Lifeline

Yesterday morning, I spent two hours at the hair salon getting my perm redone. For the amount of time taken, the result looks lovely (and bonus points to me as having no sense of smell fully pays off in these instances.) Nearing the end, I had twenty minutes of waiting, during which the solution needed to soak into my hair with the curlers still set in place before my stylist removed them. I asked the lady sitting next to me if she could pass me a People magazine…just something to glance at as I waited. “Pointless readings,” I tell myself, but I didn’t read much anyway as I didn’t have my glasses on at that moment.

I did happen to find one good article about a girl my age who lives with Down Syndrome. As I skimmed the blurry article, I was impressed by her courage not to let the disease define her; she had even gone to court to declare her independence rights on choosing where to live. I don’t know her name or the edition of the People Magazine for quotes, but I do remember reading a few sentences where she states that she is an independent person–she just might need a little help sometimes. I had two thoughts: First, I fully relate to what she is saying. She and I may struggle with vastly different physical limitations, but there is a common understanding both in emotional and mental thoughts of what it means for independent living. And second, whether you struggle physically or not, don’t we all have moments where we might just need a little help? It is our human nature; it keeps us humble.

When I first moved back in my parent’s house, I thought I was losing all independence. It took time for me to process that I never lost my independence; living at home ensures that I can live independently. Yet, I am surrounded by family who can help if I just might need it: opening zip lock bags or medicine bottles if Walgreens places the lids in the wrong direction; putting on my compression stocking or clipping my toe nails; carrying my groceries up the stairs or my full laundry basket to the washer. Or in the event that I have car problems, need to get Muffy’s food from the patio but it is dark outside, I accidentally break a dish while loading/unloading the dishwasher…help is there as well. It is safe independent living.

hermie “I’m…independent!” (samefacts.com)

To maintain continual safe independence–while at home–I now wear a Lifeline necklace. Wearing this necklace does not change any part of how I currently live. I still get up in the mornings on my own; bathe and dress on my own; make myself meals and, of course, the morning pot of coffee; I can still write (chicken scratches), type (finger poke), text, and paint; I still climb up and down the stairs, even if it is a slow one-step-at-a-time; and, I still drive, run errands or go to church on my own as long as I have the energy and weather permits me to do so.  The Lifeline’s purpose is to inform others if I needed help–the communication is accurate and efficient. The necklace works only at my home (garage, basement too) and outside property. Once I leave the driveway, I am too far from the sensor for any signals to send.  However, being out in public, my chances of being all alone are quite slim. 😉

When we first set the Lifeline in place, I was confused as to how I, personally, talk with the personnel over the communicator (set up in my parents room) as I am Deaf. I really do nothing, except push the button on my necklace if I need assistance. The personnel from Lifeline contacts my parents through the communicator and notifies them that my button was pressed, so they can check on me. If no one answers that machine call, they immediately start calling my emergency contact numbers in order; my mom’s cell phone is first, etc. In the case I fall and I am unresponsive, the sensor on my necklace cues in on this and Lifeline automatically sends emergency medical help. It is safe independent living.

Lifeline is unlike a regular 911 emergency contact. It doesn’t have to take a catastrophe of epic proportions for me to push my button for assistance. It can be something even as simple as accidentally breaking glassware while doing the dishes and not being able to safely step away from the glass; if Mom is outside working in her garden, how would she know I needed help? The necklace is also waterproof, so I wear it in the shower. It is only by God’s goodness and perfect timing that my parents were still at home on that Sunday morning when the first blood clot hit as I was in the shower. Because I was hyperventilating and had my left arm slung through the handle on the shower wall in order to stand up straight, the only way I could contact for help was to bang my right fist against the shower wall. At that time, I didn’t even think it was being heard. After a few solid bangs, my mom finally decided to check in on me. You can see the importance of having this in place as I continue to live independently.

Although Lifeline is often aimed in advertising for the elderly, I know for myself–and the family–wearing the necklace puts ease in the mind of constant “What if’s?” It reminds me of my times in prayer. I don’t have to wait for epic catastrophes in order to present my requests to God. Prayer replaces the “What if’s?” with constant peace.

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;
you hold my lot.
The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

Psalm 16:5-6 ESV

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February 19, 2014 · 9:59 pm

Morning Gilds New Light

I forgot what it was like to enjoy the simple blessings of being a morning person:

Until today; I was up at the awakening dawn.

I pull back the darkened shades in my room.

The sky smiled as it stretched wide arms of light.

“Good morning!” it shouted with radiance.

Pictures are never justice to the moment.

So I stood out on the patio in full wonder of the beauty.

Back inside, I filled my cup with coffee.

I squinted as the sun gleamed in transparent window glass.

“Good morning!” I reply.

Your love, oh Lord
Reaches to the heavens
Your faithfulness stretches to the sky

Psalm 36:5 NIV

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February 15, 2014 · 11:58 pm

Read to Re-read

Reading is an easy topic for me to discuss. Why? Because I love books; libraries; reading book reviews on other blogger’s websites and spending quality time writing my own; and of course, sharing: both what I have learned and what I consider a favorable or unfavorable read. I have a list of “to-reads” that never seems to end, because I continually find or hear about another book–the list goes on and I slowly mark a few as “read.” On GoodReads, you can make your lists and mark the books accordingly. I even have a shelf titled, “Abandoned;” there are some books you should never force yourself to finish.

However, there are others that are worth a re-read. I am not a person to re-read. In wanting to read all the books of my never-ending “to read” list, I don’t take time to go back and enjoy the books I have already claimed as a favorable good read. In fact, they sit on my bookshelf, collecting dust.

It was only about a month ago that the topic of favorite childhood books was posted on Facebook in a discussion forum for a closed group gathering of We Heart Books: a virtual book exchange. My cousin had mentioned this event back at Christmas, but I completely forgot about it until the week of the last sign up dates. Spontaneous decision, but I was really eager to participate. I filled out my own information sheet of what I like in books–genres, titles I have read or own, authors I don’t enjoy, and a wish list. After submitting my form, I was paired with Micaela from Everyday Encouragements.  We shared some same book genre interests, such as historical fiction, and chatted a few times over email. A few weeks later, I received my surprise book in the mail: Evidence Not Seen: A Woman’s Miraculous Faith in the Jungles of World War II, by Darlene Deibler Rose. It was on my wish list and after just finishing Jamie Ford’s, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet, I am very excited to read this book! I have always been a history fanatic, but this past month, I read a few historical fiction and non-fiction books about our country’s past events. Because I had just finished Peter Leavell’s debut book, Gideon’s Call, I was too excited NOT to share–so this is what I sent Micaela.

A few days ago, I had a Skype conversation with my sister. We got on the topic of books and she mentioned two tiles that she was going to re-read. Books she hadn’t read since school days. When we ended, I went to my room and started rummaging in my book basket and bookshelf, mentally taking note of favorite books from the past. It was time. It is a personal new reading goal to read one “re-read” each month. Being the month of February, I chose The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. A classic American romance. 🙂 I haven’t read this since my sophomore year in high school. Although I know the main plot, in essence, it will be a fun, refreshing read.

…

Yesterday I finished 66 Love Letters: A Conversation with God that Invites You into His Story by Dr. Larry Crabb. There was no purposeful plan in ending on Valentne’s Day–it just happened. Having read all previous 65 love letter chapters, I found myself somewhat distracted in thought as I opened to the 66th: Revelation. I was excited to conclude, yet almost wishing not. Even though this book was written as a first person conversation between Crabb and God, it was almost as if I sat there at the table with them…listening and taking notes. After finishing both the book and the rest of my coffee, I set out to write a short synopsis of my review on Goodreads. My closing paragraph follows:

The book took me back to the Scriptures…especially in the Old Testament. I could relate to Dr. Crabb in some areas of confusion and frustration, but I continually re-read God’s hopeful message: Trust Him. He has a plan. Life will be hard, but the eternal party has already started and soon I will dance. Until then, persevere in steadfast faith. And Love like Jesus.

I have to be honest…some of the conversations, especially about the Old Testament love letters, had me feeling a bit embarrassed, as my memory of these passages of Scripture were blank. As I ventured back and stated re-reading a few, such as Exodus and Habakkuk, it was as if I were reading it for the first time, yet it was clear and the deeper message of God’s story made sense. This has happened before and I think it is what I love most about the Word: it “is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” (Hebrews 4:12)

It’s the best book you could ever read to re-read.

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February 14, 2014 · 9:00 am

Happy Valentine’s Day

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“Go after a life of love as if your life depended on it—because it does.”

I Corinthians 14:1 MSG

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February 13, 2014 · 8:32 pm

Today’s expectations

I expected it to be an early morning: 5am, it was.
I expected the coffee machine at Children’s to boost my morning energy: the new machine was broken. 8am, no coffee.
I expected the appointments to discuss the main issues–balance, intestines and overall function–with a long list of things that can help for “future” changes: it did, but without the long list.
I expected my MRI results to come back reporting “stable” conditions, even though I have still experienced  some physical changes, like numbness in the right hand: it did and I am thankful for no tumor growth.
I expected my doctor to want an MRI in another 4 months: he didn’t and left the choice to me. Next MRI is planned for mid-August (6 whole months!) 🙂
I expected all my questions to be answered: they were, along with much great conversation.
I expected to leave by lunch: 12pm, we did.
– – –
Life is often lived in arrays of expectations. A day like today shines bright and hopeful; other days, the expectations fall into shadows of despair. And what of the expectations I hold for myself? I often feel the “need to perform” or “prove” to doctors that I am still doing my best possible. And though I did not struggle much with that today, there were still moments. And what of the Great Physician? Why do I feel the need to prove myself to God physically? He knows my body is broken. And he heals: maybe not in the ways I expect, but always in hope.

The hope of the righteous brings joy, but the expectation of the wicked will perish. ~Proverbs 10:28 ESV

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