This past Wednesday evening, I fell again. This is my fourth fall since Covid (funny how that is now a point of reference), and this time it happened during a lesson. I was seated at my chair, and one of the wheels caught on the edge of my chair's rolling pad, and down I went. If I wasn't already dealing with an injury to my left ankle and baby toe and an injury to my right knee, maybe I could have caught myself, but the only thing I could do was put my hands behind me and let them take the brunt of the impact.
Since that evening, I've felt a slip in my confidence and in my state of mind. I just feel....broken, needy, unsure, and yes, afraid. And it affects every part of my life. I am starting to recover, though my back and neck and wrists are still sore, but my mood has been getting darker by the day, and every attempt I made to "fix" my mood just landed flat (if you'll excuse the pun).
I wasn't really aware of why I was feeling so depressed, until I met with my counselor yesterday. After she prayed and invited me to share, issues I hadn't even thought about just poured out of me. I realized how being without a partner while trying to regain my stability and strength means I am vulnerable in new ways. And that is another place of grief, and potentially self-pity. Also revealed in my sharing, was a loss of trust and belief that God would -not that He could, but that He WOULD - perform physical miracles in my life.
That really wasn't too much of a surprise, but it was a pretty stark admission in the presence of another believer. When Ron died, I prayed day in and day out, asking God to please let this not be true. I know that sounds insane, but there is no explanation I could give you to describe the absolute compulsion to try to bargain for his life. I could not bear the reality that he was gone, and that I would spend the rest of my life without him. I prayed, I begged, I cried out for God to answer my prayer. But He did not. He could have. I could have awoken to find it was just a bad dream. Instead, I live it every day, and sometimes I relive it. Not just the loss, but the enormous disappointment that God allowed this to happen to me and the boys. I shared with my counselor how many years ago, a friend lost a child so many had loved and prayed for. I cried through countless nights, my heart just broken for this family. I begged and pleaded with God to save this child, but He didn't. As I reflected on this, I realized that losing Ron tore that wound wide open again, leaving me with a a gloomy perspective on God's willingness to heal and restore me, and those I love.
I don't live in that place of despair, but the enemy lurks in the shadows, waiting patiently for my most vulnerable moments, to bring all of that into use in order to torment me and attempt to steal my peace and joy. And in those moments, I need an intercessor.
Today, the Holy Spirit reset my state of mind. My counselor had sent me a link to a song called, "Is He Worthy?" She really loves the song, and I wanted to hear it. This morning, as I poured my coffee, I listened to the song, and while I immediately disliked the monotone nature of the melody, the words "He is" were burned upon my mind. He is worthy. He is holy. He is....everything. And while the song was interrupted by an ad, the work was done. As I played through the songs for our worship service tomorrow, I began to sob. In gratitude for Who He is, for the love that led Him to the cross for MY SINS, for the eternal nature of our souls, and the desire of God to be with us forever, for the assurance that I will see Ron again, and those who have gone before, and that along with them I WILL see His face. I WILL know Him. And I will understand everything through His perfect will. And I am still there, in THAT place. The place of gratitude, because God, in His mercy, would not let me stay as I was, and He has NOT changed! He will not allow us to stay where we are. He will use losses to draw us closer to Himself, and to teach us to grasp only what is eternal.