ann kiemel

three weeks into foot recovery.
pins sticking out of toes. pain.
excruciating! a walker. sore throat, and
today, i began, for the first time, to believe
i couldn't get to the end of this journey.

it just hit me.
a harsh slap across my normally-optimistic
spirits. three more weeks before i can put weight
on left leg. the toes look swollen and black. i live
with my bedroom upstairs. now, a walker. taylor
came back with me from family gathering. he
hasn't felt really well, either, but trying. to bring
me tortillias with melted cheese and avocado.
and keep me going.

i crawled down to first step landing.
"taylor," i began to sob. "please talk to me."
he settled next to me on the steps, and tears
streamed down my face.

i promise God to show far more compassion
and love to every wheel-chair driven victim that passes
my way. to anyone on a walker. to those who struggle
just to walk. i promise to let my eyes glisten in each one's face,
and to treat those with more notice and solid respect and pure,
undiluted kindness.

today,
focus on the family
played an old speech of mine.
i never listen to my own stuff, but i begged
God to somehow be glorified even though there was
nothing unusual or exceptional about my walk with Him
that made me worthy of this honor. the devil always makes
me feel tiny and miniscule on days God chooses to use my
one, inadequate, undeserving life. but love HIM? oh, that i
do, i do. i do.

i wept.
my oldest son sat and listened.
he helped me, via walker, hobble out to
back patio and feel the cold air on my skin.
to see the sky between the trees. to be standing
in God's world. to realize that my son probably had alot
of worries, too.

Lord, rain on us.
wash away our moments of panic
and sadness and fear. take us, just where we are,
and lift us to higher realms of victory. teach us how
to overcome in our darkest hours. make me a mother that
is human enough to not be perfect, but neither allow me to
lay all my woes before my sons when they have enough of
their own.

endurance is our warcry today.
may we run with patience and the
will to NEVER give up.
my deepest love to all of you who
are my friends, and running beside me in
this Race called Life.
amen. amen.