They look harmless enough - thin blades of grass, wispy weeds, compact single dandelions, gangly spearmint - wandering far from it's original home. Who knew (certainly I never considered) that these once-welcomed signs of spring could undo months of faithful stretching, strengthening, and coddling to an allegedly healing back? Blades of grass, thin, but seemingly stronger than the nerves that cause the knee-buckling pain that shoots and numbs and throws one's gait off balance enough to cruelly remind me that I am not the same person who once attacked these misguided sprouts with reckless abandon and put them into submission. They used to fear me. Now they mock me into feeling as broken and useless and beaten as I must have once made them feel. It's as if every time another birdseed fell to take up residence in a once pristine bed of river rock, an osteophyte grew on those vertebrae. Jagged edges of bone, refusing to give way to the bending, twisting, squatting that in years past left behind only gentle reminders of forgotten muscles. It's time. I've heard the message loud and clear - "Move on to simpler and less, while there's still time." Quickly now, don't "dilly-dally," as Dad used to say. Be ready for the unexpected. I'm intent on viewing this not as a punishment or a burden, but an opportunity to stay faithful. I must. For in faith is our only hope. And not everything that is broken must remain that way.
Endure hardship with us like a good soldier of Christ Jesus.
2 Timothy 2:3.
Tea today: Genmaicha
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