and the surgeon says....

(tell me some of you watched Family Feud)

...wait.

Yep. Wait. Four little letters making a word that drives me batty. I am not a wait kind of gal. I'm a let's fix it so I can move on with life kind of gal.

Actually, the surgeon wants me to do 3 weeks of intense physical therapy to see if we can strengthen that pesky pesky shoulder of mine. My mri was fairly inconclusive thanks to almost 20 year old anchors placed in my shoulder from my previous surgeries. So, I have to work with a physical therapist in order to judge strength and stability. Starting today.

That means if I have surgery it will be in the beginning of September. When school starts.

I had intended to start this school year running. Flying. On schedule. You know, organized. Ready to go. Ahead of the curve. Eager. Not possibly recovering from major shoulder surgery.

Let it go.

That's what I'm telling myself. Learning doesn't have to start in early September. We can start later. Let it go. Let it go. Let it go. But, I don't want to. I want to cling so tightly to this idea of having the perfect 2011-2012 school year that takes place with a magnificent launch in September. Oh, that was my wish.

I'm starting to realize that success and joy cannot be based on a silly September start date.

Let it go.

We cling to stuff, don't we? It's ironic the things that get me worked up -- schedules, and organization, and the perfect plans. When they don't seem to go the way I had envisioned it takes me a bit to regroup -- to let it go. But, you know, if I sat here lamenting about my not so ideal September it would trickle down to my family. They'd pick up on the vibe, the mood that I'm in. I don't want frustration to run deep -- that's not me.

So I tell them that ninja mom is going to go work that shoulder out. And who knows -- maybe I won't need surgery and can just get by doing physical therapy for the next 3-4 months. Ha ha ha -- my arms would be in awesome shape.

Let it go.

But whatever it is? I'm okay with it. We'll adapt. And life doesn't have to be based on that day in September.

I won't let it be.

I'm letting it go.

teeny spaces are not my favorite

I've got my shoulder mri this afternoon.

My first question to the receptionist when they set it up was -- do I have to go all the way in that ridiculously small tunnel? -- to which she calmly responded -- yes, all the way and you also have to get an iv and injection during the 45 minute procedure.  I don't think I hid my fears well.

Be still my not-liking-teeny-spaces heart.

There's a radiologist and a doctor that will be helping me out. The dye? Visibility. As if a mri isn't enough, now I get to start in the teeny tube -- get some images of that pesky shoulder -- be pulled out and get injected with some dye into my arm -- and then get pushed back into it.

Again, be still my not-liking-teeny-spaces heart.

And my not-liking-needles-too-much heart. Or dye.

So this morning, I'm trying to meditate on the truth of the Lord. I'm reading verses of peace and am prepping myself for that hour in the mri where I will truly have to rest in Him.  

Be still my soul.

I've been looking at pictures of the ocean -- of the wildlife -- and the waves -- and of me on our trip -- carefree and rejoicing and am filled with such gratitude for the seven days I was blessed there. In some ways it was a preparation -- although I didn't know that -- for the weeks to come. When I sat in the waves I remember realizing that I needed the truth of Jesus -- of His power and love -- to replace all those worries and anxieties that clouded my thinking.

Today, at 2:45 pm, while they push me into that teeny space I will remember.

I'll remember a week where I raised my arms freely.

{amy and me, with my crazy south carolina curly hair, on the dolphin cruise}

And I'll thank Jesus for His peace.

And for that  teeny mri space -- even though I don't like it that much -- I'm still grateful for it.

And I'll be still. Still for the images and praying for stillness in my heart.

Be still my soul.

2:54 am

{I wrote this last night, and never hit publish till this morning. Debated with not publishing, but then decided to share those middle of night thoughts with you all.}

I'm down in the living room awake.

I was going to blame it on the constant thunder outside -- and Caleb crying out because he was nervous -- but I realized that I was awake prior to that. My pain pill wore off and has left me in this foggy (and slight ill feeling) state. With returned pain.  Which makes me wonder if I might just try to plow through these next 8 days with just ibuprofen....

But, the house is fairly quiet.

Oh, there are those little noises. The air conditioner running. The old computer. Faint thunder in the distance. Brennan sniffling (I think he needs allergy meds). And my fingers hitting the keys.

I had written two blog posts earlier tonight -- posts about my journey right now and how I am going to have to surrender those schedules of mine. They talked about faith and fear and trust. From being able to get all the homeschool curriculum we need (since I'm probably not going to be up to selling all mine now) to realizing that this is just a season. A season that I've been trying to run away from. Avoid. Because, after all it is almost August and there is so much to be done in August to prep for the fall. Being forced to do a fraction of what one normally likes to do typically isn't my choice of seasons to hang out in.

It's not really convenient.

And then, as I was typing up an email response to my friend Amy @ Raising Arrows, it hit me so profoundly that this season is teaching me things. About me. And my tendency to create control in my life -- from homeschooling to cleaning to organizing to perfectionism -- and how really, I need to lessen my grip. Which is a hard thing to do.  Especially, like I've written about, when that clenched fist of control is sometimes there as a way to hide from dealing with deeper issues.

Like fear. Or not measuring up. Worry.

When it's 3:08 in the morning it's so easy to slip into sadness and worry. I know I'll be tired in the morning. I see the pile of laundry to take down. There's this mental checklist of things to get done. And, emotionally, well emotionally part of me just wants to worry. And get frustrated.

So I've let myself feel frustrated. Just for a moment. And then I've made myself let it go -- praying that the Lord will take those feelings and replace them. Frustration to hope. Fear to faith. Of not measuring up to seeing myself as His daughter. And worry to peace.

The lightening is impressive outside. The sky is lit -- even in the darkness of night. It reminds me of joy. And the goodness of God. Sometimes it's there in the middle of the night, but you just need to be looking for it.

It's 3:13 am.

And I'm going to try to sleep.

At peace.

{thanks for all the prayers for my shoulder. Like I stated in the post, I am scheduled for an mri this week. I just needed to wait until they have a doctor available as they need to use the mri contrast dye to look for tears deep within and this requires a special doctor. All the doctors have moved me to the category of "pain management" until I see the surgeon. I'm prepping myself now for what feels inevitable....and still seeking joy.}

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}