I started a new supplement about a month ago. Just this week I've noticed a big difference. I wake up better, have more energy, and even made it to church on Sunday after staying out till 2 am Saturday night with my sister at a high school reunion. That would never have happened a month ago.
The last two nights I've even had enough foot power left to walk around the block, not once, but twice. Still, the first night out, I noticed how imperative it was that I hold Don's hand.
Balance fascinates me. I read a short write up on balance while visiting my grandparents at their adult living center in Philadelphia last Christmas. While muscle strength is an obvious necessary for balance, vision and touch can make a big difference as well.
Sometimes when I walk into a large store, I feel off kilter until my long distance eye muscles adjust. Sometimes when maneuvering through a large room, I touch a chair here or there or run my fingers against a wall to maintain balance. I even noticed recently that a busy carpet pattern on the floor of a particular church makes walking its halls a challenge.
If I didn't live in this body, none of that would make sense. But it's very real to me that vision, touch, and physical strength all combine to create balance.
As we walked around the block Sunday night, I marveled at my stride and ability to keep going. But if I let go of Don's hand, I stumbled. My legs got heavy and I lost control. When I put my hand back in his, my step stabilized and we continued on. The simple touch of his hand kept me centered and steady.
I'm very grateful for Don's hand but couldn't help thinking about the importance of "puttin' my hand in the hand of the man who stilled the waters..."
While reconnecting with folks from high school, I heard enough painful stories to remind me that this world is not an easy place to live.
It requires strength: "I was pushed back and about to fall, but the Lord helped me. The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation." (Ps. 118: 13-14 NIV)
It requires vision: "Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame." (Ps. 34: 5 NIV)
It requires touch: "Where can I go from your spirit?... If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast." (Ps. 139: 7 & 9-10 NIV)
He is our strength. He is our vision. And His right hand is at the ready, holding us fast.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Waiting
I'm waiting today. I'm waiting for a fax to make it's way through the Emory referral system so a scheduler can secure an appointment for me. I need to see a particular neuromuscular specialist who works at the Emory clinic once a month. As of Friday, there were a few appointments available on August 26th. But if that fax doesn't make it's way through the system I might get bumped to September.
This is where my emotions tend to derail.
I sent the fax on Friday. They asked me to fax it again today. There's nothing more I can do but wait till three o'clock and call again, hoping the computer highway doesn't fail me. I want to plead, "Please don't give that slot away. I have the referral in my hand. It's real. My insurance company agreed I need to go to Emory." But they can't see what I see, so until it arrives at the proper destination, I must wait.
When I found out last week that parts of Sam's genetic blood test had to be redone, and thus I had to practice more waiting, a pile of sludge covered my heart. Overwhelmed, I went for an evening walk. Green leaves offered a canopy overhead. Breezes blew. Birds sang. Crickets hummed. And I thought about life as one long wait for what's to come.
We ache for eternity. We might not know it, but since we're made for completion in Christ we long to be home with our Creator. We create happy moments here. We love our families. We celebrate life and even work to overcome the sin that entangles. But deep down, much of what we strive for fails to offer the satisfaction we desperately crave.
"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." (2Cor. 4:18)
As I walked with unsteady legs and aching ankles that night, I found comfort knowing that every day we live, we're waiting. Emory's folks will eventually find my fax. I'll get an appointment and Sam's blood test results will soon be finalized.
But even after that, I'll still be waiting.
Somehow that helped. While I can't seem to strengthen my physical muscles, I can surely strengthen my trust and patience in the process. We can text, fax, Fed-ex, and request fast food on the fly. But some days we just have to wait.
This is where my emotions tend to derail.
I sent the fax on Friday. They asked me to fax it again today. There's nothing more I can do but wait till three o'clock and call again, hoping the computer highway doesn't fail me. I want to plead, "Please don't give that slot away. I have the referral in my hand. It's real. My insurance company agreed I need to go to Emory." But they can't see what I see, so until it arrives at the proper destination, I must wait.
When I found out last week that parts of Sam's genetic blood test had to be redone, and thus I had to practice more waiting, a pile of sludge covered my heart. Overwhelmed, I went for an evening walk. Green leaves offered a canopy overhead. Breezes blew. Birds sang. Crickets hummed. And I thought about life as one long wait for what's to come.
We ache for eternity. We might not know it, but since we're made for completion in Christ we long to be home with our Creator. We create happy moments here. We love our families. We celebrate life and even work to overcome the sin that entangles. But deep down, much of what we strive for fails to offer the satisfaction we desperately crave.
"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." (2Cor. 4:18)
As I walked with unsteady legs and aching ankles that night, I found comfort knowing that every day we live, we're waiting. Emory's folks will eventually find my fax. I'll get an appointment and Sam's blood test results will soon be finalized.
But even after that, I'll still be waiting.
Somehow that helped. While I can't seem to strengthen my physical muscles, I can surely strengthen my trust and patience in the process. We can text, fax, Fed-ex, and request fast food on the fly. But some days we just have to wait.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Movie Musings
I rented three movies this week. After a long day at the store, they offer low impact family together time. The Pink Panther 2 gave us all a few laughs and me a few thoughts.
That said, I don't really enjoy movies where a bumbling character stumbles through scene after scene. I grow uncomfortable knowing calamity is always moments away and feel for the outsider who can't fit into the norm.
So... as I watched Inspector Clousseau (the epitome of awkward) dangle from the Popes balcony and burn down a restaurant twice, I grew fidgety and eventually gave up on him like everyone else. Yet as some of you know and most would suspect, by the end of the movie, he regained his hero status.
And I found it reassuring.
The last three years have challenged me in ways I never expected. New marriage. Blending families. Growing teens. Lost legs.
Some days I've shown genius, grace, and maybe even godly character. But on many others, I've been a complete basket case, awkward, emotional, an outsider in my own skin.
I was encouraged when Inspector Clousseau overcame the world's annoyance with him and rose above, solving the crime with renewed determination. I decided there was hope for me.
His story is far more the norm than I like to admit. Think about Peter who denied Christ, Moses who got mad, and David who killed a husband for the poor guy's gal. They aren't remembered for their foibles. They're celebrated for their lifelong pursuit of God in spite of their utter humanity.
At times I've fought great frustration that when my boys have needed balance most (during their teen years), I haven't been able to even walk straight, let alone guide with wisdom and discernment. But after watching that movie and pondering the lives of the saints of old, I can look back with grace.
The good news? If our pursuit of Christ remains relentless, God can bring glory out of all of our journeys, especially the most broken places.
Today that brings me great peace. And I remain "confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it onto completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Phil. 1:6)
That said, I don't really enjoy movies where a bumbling character stumbles through scene after scene. I grow uncomfortable knowing calamity is always moments away and feel for the outsider who can't fit into the norm.
So... as I watched Inspector Clousseau (the epitome of awkward) dangle from the Popes balcony and burn down a restaurant twice, I grew fidgety and eventually gave up on him like everyone else. Yet as some of you know and most would suspect, by the end of the movie, he regained his hero status.
And I found it reassuring.
The last three years have challenged me in ways I never expected. New marriage. Blending families. Growing teens. Lost legs.
Some days I've shown genius, grace, and maybe even godly character. But on many others, I've been a complete basket case, awkward, emotional, an outsider in my own skin.
I was encouraged when Inspector Clousseau overcame the world's annoyance with him and rose above, solving the crime with renewed determination. I decided there was hope for me.
His story is far more the norm than I like to admit. Think about Peter who denied Christ, Moses who got mad, and David who killed a husband for the poor guy's gal. They aren't remembered for their foibles. They're celebrated for their lifelong pursuit of God in spite of their utter humanity.
At times I've fought great frustration that when my boys have needed balance most (during their teen years), I haven't been able to even walk straight, let alone guide with wisdom and discernment. But after watching that movie and pondering the lives of the saints of old, I can look back with grace.
The good news? If our pursuit of Christ remains relentless, God can bring glory out of all of our journeys, especially the most broken places.
Today that brings me great peace. And I remain "confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it onto completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Phil. 1:6)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)