It’s been 4 weeks since I have written. Or bathed.
It’s been 4 weeks since Ginny’s back surgery.
Thanks to all who have served us so well. Meals have been made, laundry folded. Sure, it’s a bit of a downer when you realize that a friend of the opposite gender folded your tightey-whiteys. I haves opted to frame this panicked moment of comprehension as the moment our friendship grew larger (you know who you are & there are more than one of you I am afraid). I am also suddenly motivated to going shopping for new underwear.
Oh and I went to India. And it was more than I had hoped. To see folks employing persons with disability, seeking to serve them and welcoming them into their community inch by inch. I was in the company of my heroes. And I have yet to process it all- and doubt I ever will be able to, but I am filled with hope for the global work ahead and call of 99 Balloons to change the story of disability.
Quick Plug….if you are in Northwest Arkansas, our 1 annual fundraiser is Wednesday. And you should come. RSVP here for a great night of art and vision. It’s really fun. I know that’s hard to believe because I too have been to fundraisers. Trust me. If you’re not around Arkansas, I apologize for talking about great things that you can’t be apart of.
Ginny is doing better each day. She has two more weeks of no bending, lifting, twisting, pushing or pulling.
She walks.
She lays down.
She does something around the house she shouldn’t.
I get on to her.
Repeat.
To be honest, it is much more about Ginny’s head and heart at this stage than her back. Take away her opportunity to mother as she would hope and ask her to watch as tons of others help out with her kiddos. This is a recipe for Momma Bear. And there have been bear sitings (she reads this….I love you!). I don’t think we’ll look back on these 6 weeks with anything resembling fond-ness and it is so hard to not just don the “bear it and get through it” cape and will our ways to be some sort of self-efforting heroes. But we’re too weak. And that is no way to live.
I believe in a God that is in it with us. A God in the midst. Not one who only comes near in quiet times and vacations. A God with dirty hands and tired feet.
I so want my actions to match my beliefs. They do not. I fail. I fall into bearing it. And I fall away from Him. And all I have is a prayer and a shred of faith- leftovers from the last time He was strong in my weakness.
God. Be near.
In the now, be enough.
I am weak. You are strong.
Help me to stop waiting to seek you until all is right with my world.
Draw me near in the valley. Breathe on me in the low places.
I will not come unless you call.
I cannot will it, so woo me.
And I will again re-learn your goodness and faithfulness in my frailty.
It’s been 4 weeks since I have written. Or bathed.
It’s been 4 weeks since Ginny’s back surgery.
Thanks to all who have served us so well. Meals have been made, laundry folded. Sure, it’s a bit of a downer when you realize that a friend of the opposite gender folded your tightey-whiteys. I haves opted to frame this panicked moment of comprehension as the moment our friendship grew larger (you know who you are & there are more than one of you I am afraid). I am also suddenly motivated to going shopping for new underwear.
Oh and I went to India. And it was more than I had hoped. To see folks employing persons with disability, seeking to serve them and welcoming them into their community inch by inch. I was in the company of my heroes. And I have yet to process it all- and doubt I ever will be able to, but I am filled with hope for the global work ahead and call of 99 Balloons to change the story of disability.
Quick Plug….if you are in Northwest Arkansas, our 1 annual fundraiser is Wednesday. And you should come. RSVP here for a great night of art and vision. It’s really fun. I know that’s hard to believe because I too have been to fundraisers. Trust me. If you’re not around Arkansas, I apologize for talking about great things that you can’t be apart of.
Ginny is doing better each day. She has two more weeks of no bending, lifting, twisting, pushing or pulling.
She walks.
She lays down.
She does something around the house she shouldn’t.
I get on to her.
Repeat.
To be honest, it is much more about Ginny’s head and heart at this stage than her back. Take away her opportunity to mother as she would hope and ask her to watch as tons of others help out with her kiddos. This is a recipe for Momma Bear. And there have been bear sitings (she reads this….I love you!). I don’t think we’ll look back on these 6 weeks with anything resembling fond-ness and it is so hard to not just don the “bear it and get through it” cape and will our ways to be some sort of self-efforting heroes. But we’re too weak. And that is no way to live.
I believe in a God that is in it with us. A God in the midst. Not one who only comes near in quiet times and vacations. A God with dirty hands and tired feet.
I so want my actions to match my beliefs. They do not. I fail. I fall into bearing it. And I fall away from Him. And all I have is a prayer and a shred of faith- leftovers from the last time He was strong in my weakness.
God. Be near.
In the now, be enough.
I am weak. You are strong.
Help me to stop waiting to seek you until all is right with my world.
Draw me near in the valley. Breathe on me in the low places.
I will not come unless you call.
I cannot will it, so woo me.
And I will again re-learn your goodness and faithfulness in my frailty.