Whoever coined the phrase “getting old ain’t for sissies” was so in tune with my life right now. So by way of confession, I’ll let you in on a secret, 2018 was brutal on me and 2019 isn’t so great either!
I stopped going to cardiac rehab at the hospital because I’m a wimp with cold weather. It was just easier to stay home. But I didn’t want to lose the progress that I’d made so I was doing some exercises at home. Which included a step aerobic that I really enjoyed when it was pain free. I was having some knee issues but I was determined to fight my way through. So as I step step stepped on my little Gold Gym ® stepper I misplaced my foot and stepped backward really hard. I immediately knew I was in trouble when a blood curdling scream proceeded from my mouth that brought the critters running to my rescue. Except Callie the cat, she is way too important to worry about her handler.
I refused to go to the hospital because it was cold outside. I told you I’m a wimp. So I waited 24 hours, for which worked really well for me because the temperature outside dropped to the negatives. But after x-rays and exams it was determined (as best they could without an MRI) that I have a torn meniscus. So I’m “peg leg pete” as my daughter Whitney now calls me, and I’m feeling very feeble. And not just physically.
Psalm 38 was written by David as a Psalm of remembrance. Although there is debate whether the Psalm was written to remember his sin with Bathsheba or the distress of Israel, for me it matters not. I only know that it resonated with my heart today.
Physical pain, and the pain of sin and regret take its toll on the body. It weakens me spiritually and causes an angst in my soul.
David penned it well when in verse 8 he wrote “I am feeble and sore broken: I have roared by reason of the disquietness of my heart.”
Feebleness is a state of frailty, weakness or delicacy. None of which I care to be described as. But I doubt I’m alone. We all have times when we feel weak whether or not it’s physical or emotionally in times of life’s woes. It brings to mind our mortality and just how very little we are in control.
While my torn meniscus could have been remedied by using a little common sense when exercising on laminate floors, my sins can be remedied by using a little common sense in my brain. Neither of which I overly skilled at. Obviously a trait King David bore as well.
I recently have been following a couple of gals on Instagram that are just a tad too perfect. Their actually not, they’re very human, but they’re posts are “pretty”. Their homes are pretty, their lives are pretty, their spirituality is pretty. They make me nauseous. Yes. I’m sinning in thought. But it’s the truth. I can’t handle all the “pretty” stuff. I need some reality. They really do inspire me to be better. But I also tune into a preacher who has been an utter failure! But he’s fighting back and roaring through the hard times and allowing me to see into his life of blunders and mishaps and helping me to understand, I’m not alone.
When I fell off the step, I roared both in my soul and in my physical being. I let the puppies know, momma was hurt. I believe we need to do that spiritually as well to a world of perfectionistic attitudes that see only the “pretty” images on social media and in life. We come into church with our perfect attire and attitudes having just left the brokenness of life at home and the reality that all is not necessarily as well as it looks.
It’s why I appreciate people like my preacher friend who lets me see his realness. Then my realness doesn’t make me feel like a complete failure, just a recovering failure. Which is truthfully what I am.
If there was an F.A. meeting (Failures Anonymous) I’d go. But there’s not. And once you attend you’re no longer anonymous. Everyone knows! So I’ll just go to church, read the word, talk to God and share with you. My therapist. Thanks for not charging me an arm or a leg (for which I only have one left.)