Team Trey and Aunt Susan Attempt to Save the World

Transitioning from knee scooter to two legged mobility proved more of a challenge than I expected. A new therapy tool loosened the tight joint this weekend, lifting the fog from my brain. I would never have guessed a rolling pin, suggested by my physical therapist to message my leg, would have been the tool of choice. I'll never roll a pie crust the same again.

As I struggled to walk and keep my heart from overwhelm, I remembered a story I promised to write months ago... because Team Trey and Aunt Susan never want to forget the 2 AM rally cry that rocked our vacation world last summer.

We've lost count of how many years our family has traveled to Sandestin for a week thanks to my Dad's time share generosity. He reserves three units on the bay side and 13 of us head that way. Since Jessica, my sister's daughter, asked to bring a female friend last year, the girls bunked in my sister's unit while the four male cousins stayed in mine. Thus my six-foot-four, fifteen-year-old nephew, Trey, was asleep on the pull out sofa outside my bedroom door when strange noises woke me.

Trey is pictured far left... then Kimber, Jess, Nathan, Sam, and Josh.

At first I thought a fight had broken out on the floor above me. But when I crawled out of bed and opened my bedroom door, I realized the sound was coming from outside our main entrance. Trey woke up and followed me to the door.

I peered out the peep hole and saw two females, a blond and brunette. We were still considering our options when they attacked each other in a bonafide cat fight. I didn't think. I just got mad and swung the door open and chewed the girls out for making so much noise in the middle of the night.

Trey later said, "Man, Aunt Susan you sounded bossy and mad."

 "I didn't just sound mad," I replied,  "I was mad."

My resolve surprised me. I'd spent the week maneuvering for the first time with my new red walker, purchased for the trip. Still, after strolling on the sand, my ankles were much weaker than normal. Earlier that evening, I'd gazed at the ocean from a far, unwilling to risk the short walk to the water's edge.

I felt weak and disabled. Not bossy and strong.

But the girls froze after my scolding. Apologies tumbled out as they begged us not to call security. Bloodshot eyes and bloody wounds explained the reason for the fight. The youngest claimed her older step-sister caused the bike wreck. Having lost the key to the unit next to ours, they pounded on the door and rang the bell, in a vain attempt to wake their parents.

Team Trey and Aunt Susan went into action. I kept the girls from going at it again while Trey searched for first aid items. When bandages and antiseptic arrived, I knelt over the accident victim and cleaned her wounds as she wept.

We stayed with them for at least twenty if not thirty minutes until their mom finally opened the door. In that time, my anger gave way to grave concern. I shared as much Jesus as I could to under-age, intoxicated, college girls while cleaning cuts and scrapes in my pajamas.

Definitely not our norm.

When they disappeared behind the door, the yelling grew loud again. Trey and I listened in stunned silence as the voices carried through the walls. Sandestin is a classy resort. Tending to mayhem in the middle of night had never seemed a potential.

We saw the girls one last time before leaving the next morning. They apologized again. And my heart broke; their deep wounds clear.

Trey and his brothers spent a night at my home during Christmas break. With only four controllers for five kids, Trey left the video game action and found me in the kitchen.  As we talked, we resurrected the memory. I hadn't thought about it in months. But I've thought about it several times since.

Bottom line, it doesn't matter how weak my ankles get or how slow my pace may be. As Paul stated, "Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' " (2 Cor. 12: 8-9) Towering Trey played body guard while I took action that night, making us a perfect team to shine. So as I continue to heal and live with more limits than before, I'm grateful that in spite of my disabilities, God can use me.

I often forget. So I write to remember.

"He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." (Is. 40: 29 - 31)