I’ve been thinking a lot about turtles lately.
Actually, for some reason, they seem to be thinking a lot about me.
Ever since I got home from the hike I had planned for this summer – an attempt that ended in a catastrophic injury (okay, perhaps hyperbolic, but it’s been a real bummer) – turtles have been showing up everywhere.
My biggest little gives me a picture of one she made out of stickers. She had a whole zoo to choose from, but this is the one she picked:
Multiple turtles have been using my yard as a cut through to the marsh behind my house. Big and small, they galump across the grass, seemingly oblivious to the mosquito cloud engulfing their head, until they eventually hit the woods.
I’ve had to rescue turtles who freeze crossing the road, caught glimpses of ones who made it over without intervention, others who flatly did not.
The largest one was the snapper I argued with the day before my hike ended. He appeared unreasonably determined to turn into traffic and unwilling to accept that my trekking pole was sent to save his life, biting and scratching at it until he at last complied.
I’ve had a lot of time on my hands. Too much time, in my opinion, trying to figure out where I am and how I got here, a prisoner of my own recovery. From under this heavy carapace, I look out into a world that has become too expansive for my broken frame.
How easy it would be to turn on God. To blame Him for this injury, these thwarted plans, this wretched “wasted” summer, this limping around an empty house looking for something meaningful to do.
But that is not His way.
As His children, we need His Father-ship. We need, I need, His comfort, compassion, wisdom, and hope.
Holding on by my fingernails, I search His word for anything that will get me through the day.
To a hungry soul, every bitter thing is sweet. (Proverbs 27:7)
Yearning to walk, even a short, painful trip to the mailbox is a delight.
Lord, to whom else would we go? You have the words of eternal life. (John 6:68)
Icing, stretching, visits to the chiro: I do my best to steward my recovery. Even so, when and if I am healed on earth, my body still remains in a constant state of decay. This (glory!) will not be true in my forever home.
Blessed are they whose strength is in You…As they pass through the Valley of Baca, they make it a spring…they go from strength to strength. (Psalm 84:5-6)
The Valley of Baca was a place of drought, hardship and tears that pilgrims needed to pass through on the way to Jerusalem. I, too, can traverse this valley, taking courage from Him, building my resolve, until even the driest of sands becomes a pool.
And my all time, go-to favorite:
I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord In the land of the living. (Psalm 27:13)
Though we are never assured a suffer-free life, He does promise nuggets of goodness along the way.
Ease is not our lot.
Difficult forges the fight in us. Who needs to overcome green meadows when it’s a battlefield that lies ahead? Muscles are molded in the gym, not on the couch, even when the only muscles I seem able to mold at this moment are metaphorical.
For now, if I can’t go out to the beauty, I’ll bring beauty inside.
There are grands to play with, friends to visit, meals to plan and distribute.
If I can’t move my body, I will work on my brain. Reading, writing, prayer, puzzles: there is still so much rich I am able to do.
Slowly, slowly, slowly, I drag this shell across the yard.
We must trust the hand of the Divine Conductor, who orchestrates our circumstance, the rests as well as the notes. We cannot see what He sees, so it does no good to beat at his baton.
He knows everything about the when and how and where. (Isaiah 28:29)
I didn’t choose this wilderness, but I’m okay knowing He is with me in it, cheering me on, until, one day, it ends.
Press on.
walkwithme413 