You know, I think I’ve forgotten what it feels like to wake up feeling good! This morning was my first reintroduction to that phenomena, and it pleased me greatly. Seven hours of sleep, though broken in the middle, was the most sleep I’ve had in a very long time. It changed my view of the world too: The morning just seemed lighter, brighter, and crisper. I was up before anyone else, and I had time to read my Bible and pray before either Paul or Joelle were even awake. I was walking a little better too, which only added to the morning’s feelings of well-being.
Eventually everyone else did get up, and our day consisted mostly of getting resettled. The time differential was not hard to accomodate (we only lost an hour on the flight back), so there was no jet-lag either. I’m betting that this isn’t any harder than November’s time change will be; fall’s changing of the clocks is pretty simple to deal with too, and gaining an hour is certainly easier than losing one. We didn’t do all the much beyond unpacking and taking Joelle to her riding lesson, which was definitely an easy day for all of us. I even managed to get in another hour-long nap, so that was pretty nice too. Tomorrow I’ll have to focus more on doing the laundry and going shopping, which means the day will be busier, but this day off was rewarding in its own quiet way. I’m sure Paul is happy to have this week off too, because I think it would have been next to impossible to come home Sunday night and then jump back into work Monday morning. God has supplied all our needs once again, and I am appreciative.
Joelle is appreciative too, and she has gone around the house smiling and saying how happy she is, especially when she sees me using a cane. ‘Happy’ is an indication of my state of mind too, since I’ve put the walker aside and graduated (or been upgraded?) into just using that cane. That’s clearly a victory, and nearly a two month walkback on my personal calendar, because I’d begun using the walker full-time around the house at the beginning of September. So here I am, just beginning the third week of October and already giving it up. That’s progress to my mind, and its a long way from worrying about when I would have to give up the walker and get into a wheelchair. It’s also a long way from where I was last Monday, when I’d been miserable and had just started taking the antibiotic.
This might be where I should have been last Monday too, because I seem to be improving by the hour, just the way the others were doing then. ‘Should have beens’ are strange and phantasmagorical creatures though, and none of them seem to fly in the real world. I’ve spent more than a few hours wondering why things went the way they did in Texas, but the key word here is ‘wondering.’ I am not ‘questioning’ the events I’ve gone through, nor am I ‘upset’ about it. What God decreed for that time was not how I’d imagined, or wanted, things to go, though I’m certain there are reasons for all that has happened. Was writing down my daily thoughts a process just for me, or is it out there now for others too? Why did God give me this desire to detail my journey through this process anyway? And why did He give me the original desire to write from the age of twelve or thirteen? Is there something more He has in mind that might come from this trip? And might my rough and rocky road through this Clinic be an encouragement for others who might someday desire to make this journey too? Was it just another ‘coincidence’ that I was the one in five to have problems with my revision?
I’ve been thinking too, about how the five people there for the Clinic were all unabashed Christians. Each one had a story to tell about how God had moved in their lives to get them there, in much the same way He’d moved in mine. One couple had remortgaged their house to be there; another had left her skeptical husband behind to do this, and had come with her more supportive sister as her caregiver. Are these stories that need to be told? I think so. Might my story, in some way, be a help to others on the same path? Stranger things have happened.
Lastly, I’ve been wondering and have to ask: Is God calling out Christians to be well? And if so, what can I do to help in that process? It’s the oddest thing, but that almost sounds like a mission to me
What do you think?