The New Year wasn’t even here before I was making its decisions. Yes’s, no’s and maybe so’s were swirling in my head while the marking of the calendar commenced. The first quarter would be full. Okay, so really the first half of the year.
Just the way I like it.
I heard a spontaneous heavy sigh. “That’s odd. Hmm, maybe it’ll be best to use pencil this year.” I quickly brushed this message aside. After all, one must move forward.
So, I made calls, wrote emails, reviewed paper work and deadlines, sought information, studied, marked events and scheduled appointments. I even managed to squeeze space in for the vacation. You should know that I did write that one with a black Sharpie. All in my soft red leather 2015 inspirational Daily Planner.
My motto: It’s always good to have a plan. Even if it’s penned in multi colored erasable medium. Believe it or not I am learning flexibility. It’s okay if things don’t go exactly as planned… there’s always the brilliant contingency.
I really had not planned to return. It wasn’t marked in my planner. Not even in pencil and good gracious no, certainly not in my iPhone. The thought never, ever crossed my mind.
You see, there is much reason for my healing heart to move forward in celebration and adventure this New Year of 2015. Walk, no run, into living life to its fullest – the abundant life! Oh yes, let’s play! Taste and see all that is good. These places swell delightfully within because over the years my heart has called me back to long ago wounded places. They have received much kind and appropriate care, over and over again. I am grateful.
Now my body cries, “Heal me!”
While it felt rather spiritual to return to my story for my heart, it feels rather weak and lazy to return for my body. And that my friend is part of the story.
There is a plan unfolding for my life this year. It appears that no immediate forward movement is on the horizon. Right now it feels more like a road block, or at least moving so very slowly that I must hold myself back. I am not happy.
Late in December, I slipped a disc and the x-rays showed years of my body compensating for injuries incurred as a child. Yep, I’m sitting here writing after day two of therapy with a very large ice pack on my back and neck. Not my style…not my style – nor is the physical therapy plan. By the way, who put that on my calendar?
My body has had enough. It’s just plain weary of compensating.
I’d like to tell you that I am in a restful space with this new plan. Honestly, its way too early for me to say that I am trusting God for good things. The truth is I’m angry. This is not what I had planned for this year. Not. At. All. Returning to care for damage done is something that I should not have to do. The truth is that it was someone else’s job to care for me and to make sure that I wasn’t harmed. (This is in no way a new revelation, but one I have reluctantly returned to this past week.)
I do know my body needs care. It yearns for it. The pain has haunted me, literally for decades, as I’ve silenced it to the background. With its compensating, my body has done an amazing job of protecting me from permanent damage. Now, it needs my care. No one else can give it. Do I have a choice? You bet I do. I could choose not to return and go on with my many wonderful and good plans. Move forward and never look back. Yet, that contingency just doesn’t work or look so good for my future more mature self.
My heart tells me it’s time to slow down, to return for my body. “Now or never” talk is not theatrical. It’s not time for dramatic leaps of faith, but tiny everyday trust-steps. I’m a woman who will need to have a strong and invigorated body to hold a shield and wield a sword. It is my true self and calling. I hear the call to rest in the One beside me who sees everything – even if I cannot see or move forward. That somehow I will experience beauty and adventure as I depend on God’s strength. It’s asking me to wait and hope.
Ugh…this is going to be so very difficult!
In tears, I cut back my first quarter schedule. I have a sneaking suspicion there will be much more to grieve. I just read this today. “It is a strange dichotomy to know I have to grieve and suffer loss in order to find new life.” (Cathy Loerzel – Allender Center) How timely and no coincidence that it dropped into my email inbox as I finished my words to you.
And God? Well, He seems to be writing in Sharpie these days.
I smile because I hear that He has many extraordinary colors.
Robyn Whitaker lives in Texas with her beloved husband of 32 years. She has an adventurous heart that is learning to breathe. Lover of truth, seeker of story, aspiring author and newborn dreamer, this mother of three is in search of redemption and living her Kingdom purpose. Robyn writes here. n