Searching for Reason

I would be lying if I said the last week and a half has been easy.

It hasn't.

Even sitting here and trying to write about it all is proving difficult. It's 2:30 in the morning, and between the pain and the drugs, I'm unable to sleep.

It hasn't been easy for John or Glo either, and I think that's probably the hardest part to realize.

Knowing that John is purposely letting the garden go because he now doesn't have time to take care of it breaks my heart.

Hearing his regret that he even tried to start building the pond this summer leaves me with the burden of guilt.

I see Glo's summer vacation slipping away. Days that should have been filled with swimming and sunshine and joi de vivre have been lost under a mountain of responsibility mixed with hours of pure boredom.

I have already been the cause of so much happiness lost over the last few years.

Mark jokingly called me "handicapped" when we headed out for a family game of football in the Spring and didn't count me as a real player that day. I smiled to cover the hurt.

I have spent countless hours on my back and in therapy to rehabilitate my broken body.

My children have learned that the answer isn't always "yes" anymore. The heart is willing, but the body is unable.

Just weeks ago, I was running through laughing shade, grateful to feel the breeze on my face. My legs remembered the sweet rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement and knew what to do.

Now I am here feeling ... hopeless. Just as the weeds choke the plants that John so lovingly nurtured from seeds, my life feels choked by bad luck and God's will.

I find myself

trying to be patient in the trials God gives me

pushing my body to heal faster

smiling through the pain so that my family doesn't feel it

crying in my prayers and late at night

searching for reason.