Where My Help Comes From as the Ankle Heals (Warning: Graphic Content)



This may prove a little much for some. In fact the more I look at it the more it turns my stomach. But when my surgeon showed me this photo of my torn tendon, I knew I had to post it. Up close I realize the tear might not be the two inches I once thought. So that's encouraging. But while the pain has dulled for the most part, if I turn it wrong, I'm reminded that weeks of healing remain. 

 

Photo by: Dr. Daniel Tucker; Kaiser Permanente

 

I've grown somewhat impatient with the process - again. I do that a lot. Grow impatient. With the process. Whatever the process it is. I want the healing. But the energy required to maneuver on one foot with limited mitochondrial power has kept me slow. Fighting a cold the week I weaned off narcotic pain killers didn't help.

 

I just can't seem to shift to a higher gear.

 

So I rest. I watch Happy Days reruns till they bore me. And finally pull out books that inspire my soul. I know where my help comes from. I know who orchestrates my days and who knit me in my mother's womb. And I know when I dwell in His presence it doesn't matter how long it takes to heal. It doesn't matter how tired I am. I'm simply His and that is enough.

 

"I lift my eyes to the hills - where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip..." (Ps. 121: 1-3)