To say I limped would have been an understatement. I hobbled. I would have preferred to saunter, even traipse or schlep - anything that didn't involve pain.
In fact, I reminded myself of Grandpappy Amos from the Real McCoys, who's image lingered in the cobwebs of my childhood memories. He would flap his elbows out like a chicken to get some kind of lift in order to take the pressure off his bad leg. I started doing that.
Several people commented..."hey gal, ya got a hitch in yer giddey-up" one guy exclaimed. "You been wrestling with God lately?" another questioned. I smiled. "No, I just didn't stretch before running, hoping to save a little time...ironic, huh?" They nodded knowingly.
And now I needed more than time, I needed to haul buns. I was in charge of our church women's event taking place in too days, and I couldn't muster the gumption to get off my chair. So much for "Hinds Feet on High Places", I'll settle for "Able to Amble with Advil" I muttered.
Each day I tried a new remedy. First Icy Hot, then a variety of pain killers (not all at once), and finally deep message (ouch). Then I'd give myself the pep talk - come on Colleen, push through the pain...you can do the thing... By the fifth day, I was ready to call My eighty-something Mom and ask to borrow her scooter.
Instead, I had a melt-down with God. At work no less.
I must have looked sad and pathetic with one leg dangling off the little love seat in my office as I cried out to God. I have so much to do, and I can't do anything. I am feeble, and helpless. I keep dropping things, and it hurts to bend down to pick them up! I can't do this event!" I sobbed - like admitting it was a surprise, and like He needed me to pull-off the event. Yet in that act of utter dependence, I felt something I had not experienced in days. I felt a profound sense of peace.
Having not slept well for five nights, I took a nap. When I awoke, something felt different. Rather than the stabbing pain in my hip, a warmness radiated in the wounded muscle, and I knew God was beginning to heal it.
By Friday, I couldn't strut, but I could definitely amble through the women's event. It came off without a hitch. My slight limp reminded me that God delights in displaying His power toward His children when they desperately cry out to Him for help. And like the Apostle Paul, I realized that when I am weak, God can pour out His grace and do far more than I could accomplish with two good hips.
