I may have forgotten to mention that I just had my hip repaired two days before. The crutches I was supposed to use every time I walked, were still conveniently laying across the basket on the floor, near the chair, for easy access...
Of course, I was physically across the room now, thinking their placement not presently convenient....
A lot of things went thru my mind. First, I thought " Oh, poop"...
( not certain that those were my exact words)
I remembered that my Wonderful Wife was upstairs on her computer, filling out paperwork and figuring the bills. As I recalled this, still trying to balance on one good leg, nervously caressing the brace strapped from my chest to the knee, the one I would be wearing 24/7 for the next four weeks or so, I knew that if I asked her, she would be down in seconds to assist me. I also knew that I would be hearing about all my little jaunts physical risks,the proper body mechanics I should have been displaying in said travels, and many pertinent and pointed questions regarding the exact placement of the common sense I had evidently misplaced...
Basically, the response of any good and caring wife...
Mare was a physical therapy assistant for many years, into our marriage and the birth of our first son. My dilemma is her forte... She knows what I need to do to recover without issue...
And in that one moment of instinct, I found myself in a situation that I did not plan, recalling all the things I should have done... I didn't want to rip apart all the work the surgeons did days earlier, by doubling the walk taken so far, and returning to the chair.
I didn't want to ask for help, even from the most amazing lady I know, who loves me, and accepts all my foibles and bumblings without question....
Well, maybe a few questions...
Who has all the skill and compassion and ability needed to help...
And my good leg was wobbling...
I would love to describe how I embraced common sense and called up the stairs, asking for assistance, how I accepted care and correction humbly and gratefully.
But I hobbled back to the chair...
In that chair I started thinking...
How closely this can parralel struggles in a Christian life...
When I am broken, it is Jesus that props me up and steadies me in His perfect support. He carries me when all that I am is unable...
Jesus is my crutch...
Non Christians sometimes say that in a negative, but for me, that is an absolute positive...
I make no apology for needing Jesus to work in me.
My hip cannot hold me up; I need something stronger than me to support the frame that houses who I am. I need these aluminum crutches.....
My spirit is much more fragile than my hip, left to its own devices. It takes fewer steps from God to tear it apart; tragically, the further I walk from Jesus, the harder it is to see the true need I have of Him...
The harder it becomes to stop in mid- step, yell up the stairs "Could somebody please help me here? I just did something stupid, and just want to get back to my chair..."
When I instinctively react, trusting in the failability of my own power, injure myself in those first long steps away from God, I face my first choice- rely on my own strength and intelligence to repair the situation, or accept the simple fact that my decisions caused my dilemma; realize that I am my own biggest problem, and just stop...
Stop being an idiot...
Stop being willfull and enamored with my own self obsessed, unworkable " solutions"...
It is so much easier to stay in His presence than it is to find my way back into it....
Thankfully, He always searches for His lost sheep...
I realize that my brain is my biggest rubber crutch; to every appearance it looks supporting and functional, but when tested, generally bends quickly over, creating chaos...
I am so thankful for my real ones......
No comments:
Post a Comment