plans to give you hope and a future

I don't like sitting still.
I like to move and do things.

Clean.
Garden.
Organize (really).
Plan.
Visit.
Be busy.

And now, this week, I've been spending a great deal of my time doing nothing. I can only sit up and stand for so long -- then I'm forced back onto my back unable to really move due to fairly unrelenting pain.

Last week was supposed to be my week of rest. Of doing nothing.

This was supposed to be my week of getting back on track. Deep cleaning. Planning. Being busy. You know, life.

I'm struggling with it. I suppose a great deal of it is due to the pain. Which, this morning, is not a whole lot better. The injection went surprisingly well -- they told me they rarely see people so calm on the table for their first time -- I know it was the prayers. And while I know that it takes a couple days for the pain to subside, I am noticing that the pain is starting to focus on my shoulder. While that's what they wanted to find out, it also scares me.

I might be forced into sitting still even longer.

I know there's a lesson in here and in this time. While I was on the plane, flying somewhere over Kentucky, while staring at the massive storm clouds displaying their lightening outside, I began to realize that in that moment my control in the scenario of life was out of my hands. I was in the plane. I had to depend on others -- the pilot and ground control  -- to make the call on what was safe and doable. Every bone in my being wanted to just land that plane, and yet, I knew I didn't have that power. So instead, I resorted to praying and resting and seeking the beauty in that electrical display outside my window.

There's no massive storm out my window now, but I am being put in a place where I'm forced to wait to do the things that I wanted to do and the things I deemed so important. And redirect my focus. Finding joy in new things. In rest.

Sigh.

I know there's a lesson here. Good things. It's just a challenge to someone who spends her life thriving on being busy and keeping themselves "productive" -- all that stuff that I use to hide worry, and anxiety, and fears -- now that I don't have the physical means to be so busy those raw emotions are right on the table.

God knows. In Jeremiah 29:11 He assures us that He knows the plans He has for me. So I'll rest in that truth, that knowledge, and while resting learn to seek the joy in spending time in rest. In being open and vulnerable about my feelings. About being forced to seek Him first -- not the never ending list of to-do's -- and in that seeking rest in Him. In being okay with asking for help.

It's already taught me to be grateful even more. And has shown me how blessed I am with friends -- that I've met and in many of you -- who take time to help, to pray, and to offer an encouraging word.

I am so blessed.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. {Jeremiah 29:11}

Up down

Up down.
Up down.
Up down.
Up down.

Life doesn't seem to run straight and parallel, does it?

Up down.
Up down.
Up down.
Up down.

Hilton Head, meeting Carissa, laughing with friends, being with my family. All up. Beautiful.

Up down.
Up down.
Up down.
Up down.

MRI. X-rays. Shoulder Surgeons. Spinal injections. All down. Hard.

Yesterday, I ended up doing the latter. Many years ago, almost 20 years, I had two surgeries on my left shoulder. Throughout the years my arms and neck have bothered me. I've done the physical therapy. The pain meds. The time. And yesterday my pain was too much. Maria drove me to the Orthopedic Urgent Care and I came in at 10:30 am to finally deal with my pain.

Up down.
Up down.
Up down.
Up down.

The resident doctor quickly called in the main doctor after my assessment. He took a couple looks at me and then asked me - what really is your pain - I couldn't be tough anymore. The 5-6 I gave at the doorway gave away and as my eyes filled with tears I told him closer to an 8-9. I was vulnerable. And sad. And in pain. And scared.

I've known this day was coming. Before going to Hilton Head Todd and I talked about how I needed to go in and see the orthopedic doctors as I was experiencing chronic numbness in my left fingers. I had it on my radar -- but really, I probably would have pushed it off. Ignored it. Until today, when it could no longer be hidden.

The doctor ordered an x-ray of my shoulder -- and showed me the sutures that still remain from my surgery at 17. Then he immediately rush ordered an MRI of my neck. My c6-c7 disc is bulging and there is an annular tear. He came in and strongly recommended an epidural injection in my spine (which freaks me out and which is scheduled for this morning at 10:30), physical therapy, prednisone for five days, and sigh -- an asap visit with my shoulder surgeon. I left the orthopedic clinic at 4:30 exhausted.

Up down.
Up down.
Up down.
Up down.

Earlier in the day during the MRI, when my nerves were shot, I resorted to praying. Hard. My whole body was in a point of panic -- I wanted out -- and the noises were so loud. I slowed my breathing and began to pray and slowly the memories of sitting at the edge of the ocean with the waves crashing over began to dominate my thoughts. Somehow in the midst of being scared, as medical staff spoke words through the speaker, and horrible noises and shakes I found peace. Calmness. Knowing that no matter what they were seeking answers. They didn't want to see me in this pain. I was grateful.

Up down.
Up down.
Up down.
Up down.

So now I have my injection and to do physical therapy and to wait to see that shoulder surgeon. My tendency is to ignore my own complaints, my own pains, and deal with everyone else. Yesterday, I couldn't. I had to fight for me, and rest in the Lord in the midst of overwhelming pain. It will be alright. If I have surgery, I have surgery. And that's okay.

Up down.

Even in those moments I can rest. Knowing that the Lord was with me. Knowing that He heard my prayers -- and that He knew I needed that week in Hilton Head resting in the waves and feeling His peace for the week to come.

Up down.

Even in those down moments there are up moments. I saw it today. From Maria dropping everything to drive me, to friends calling and praying, to a doctor and staff who fought to have my MRI within hours of walking in the door, to the MRI tech who was so caring, to my mom leaving work early to bring me home, to the staff at the Diagnostic Imaging Center who scheduled my injection early in the morning, to Todd bringing me home gluten free goodness from Noodles and Company, to Chloe cleaning my kitchen, to the kind tweet replies to me after I asked for prayer, to Hannah's prayers requests, and Samuel's sweet hugs, and Gracie tidying the family room-- there is so much good. Even in the pain. I am blessed.

It leaves me only up.


{I wrote this last night...and now it's about 8am on Wednesday and I'm incredibly nervous about that epidural injection. I keep telling myself I'm better, but I don't know if it's just due to nerves. I'd love some prayers for peace and guidance for that doctor's hand. Thanks.}
linking up with what is on your heart

the return of color

June is one of my favorite months. It's a time when the world is washed in brilliant colors -- from the deep purples of petunias to the lushness of green grass to the vibrant fuschias of salvia to the sunset oranges of moss roses hanging from terracotta planters.

I love it.

It's refreshing to see the landscape bursting with vibrance after enduring months and months and months of freezing temps and white and brown.  It reminds me that there is beauty in life -- and that even after hard times, discouraging times, and bleak days there will come a day when color and beauty will return.

Perhaps that's why I garden. To touch the soil and add my own splash of color to the back yard. Or perhaps, on a deeper level, it's to cement in my mind that there can be joy and beauty found in life -- and to watch it grow. It's not easy. It takes work. And time.

So as I prune and plant and water and wait I'm reminded to look at life the same way. To let go of the worry and to have faith that those little seeds, those sprouts, with time will grow beautiful.

It just takes time.

He turns a desert into pools of water, a parched land into springs of water. {Psalm 107:35}

i have to stop

I simply have to stop.

I have to stop watching the raw video footage from the tsunami.

{you know, the footage that every news station shows over and over and over}

Not because I don't care

Not at all

I care deeply.

Very deeply.

I must stop because my heart is becoming numb

and I don't want to become numb to such tragedy.

And yet my heart aches.

I can't sleep well

Images of rushing water cloud my thoughts

Too many videos played too many times.

So much loss.

I just can't anymore.

**

But what I can do is live fully.

Thankful for life

Thankful for this morning breath

Thankful for the butter, jelly, and bread

Thankful for each of my children who greets me

Thankful for the light of dawn.

Thankful for the chores to do

Thankful for my home

Thankful for laughter

Thankful for safety and peace.

Thankful.

Remembering Japan

Praying for Japan

and

Embracing life

Not taking a moment for granted.

Thankful for the gift of today.