Baby Steps

When I went to bed last night, I decided that I’d do 20 minutes of cardio this morning before breakfast.

Of course, the Me-of-this-morning, crawling slowly out of bed with every scab burning and every undissolved stitch itching, declared the Me-of-last-night temporarily insane. I gave myself a reprieve. After all, I did get myself out of bed, showered, and dressed. That’s pretty good, right? 

Three weeks and a day after surgery number thirteen. Or was it fourteen? Is anyone keeping track?

Yesterday was my first day back with the little ones. It was a loooong day, but it was a good one. We worked on slipping back into the old routines, we read stories, we explored 3D shapes – all the typical second grade stuff. It was good to be back. But it was also amazingly hard work. Just being on my feet for the fifteen minutes of recess duty felt like twenty minutes of cardio…

Baby steps.

But even at a slow pace, I’m comforted by the thought that every time I’ve hit rock bottom, with Abba’s help, I’ve crawled back up. Every time I’ve felt shattered into a zillion pieces, in His timing He’s put me back together. Every time my world has jolted to a frozen stop, He’s always held my heart and hand when He got it starting to spin again.

He doesn’t keep pain from me. In fact, Jesus promised His disciples that they would have pain and troubles – it’s just a miserable side effect of our selfishness and sin. But He walks with me through it, and He allows it to shape me, teach me, and even prepare me for something still ahead. Which can actually be quite a frightening thought…

But, baby steps. 

So today is work day two. I’m yawning, but I’m ready.  I’m on my couch praying for Him to enable me – to strengthen me for the tasks He’s got for me. To shelter me from the eager hugs and hard heads in the hallways. To fill my heart to overflowing for His loved ones around me. 

To help me up off the couch and out the door…