My current situation: I reluctantly went in to urgent care, feeling like I was coming down with the shingles, or a weird flu. Surely this debilitating nerve pain was just a virus, I will suck it up for a few days and it will go away as my strong body fights it off. The receptionist tells me I haven’t visited a health care professional in over 4 years. Hallelujah for a good healthy run, a big OOPS for not taking preventative care seriously.
The doctor tells me I have a bulging disc and I need to take steps to allow it to heal or it will get worse. He straps me into the most attention-seeking white neck collar, and I walk out ready to have a good laugh with my family about how silly I look. My husband pats me on my leg with that “I’m so glad you finally went to a doctor” look. I cry silently in pain; my neck is finally in the correct position and a burning sensation travels down my spine. I don’t like being broken. We watch a sermon about spiritual gifts. The speaker laughs about how God wakes him up at 3am to write, and he obeys. I conk out early. The neck brace proves to be uncomfortable, but the pain is subsiding and I am grateful. 3:06am. I am awake. The song “Broken Things” by Matthew West and the nagging instruction to write runs through my soul... “Now I'm just a beggar in the presence of a King I wish I could bring You so much more But if it's true You use broken things Then here I am Lord, I am all Yours” Since forever, I’ve kept the broken things inside. I package them up, give them to my Creator who can make my body, spirit, and soul heal, and go on my joyful way. Now I have a giant blinking Vegas sign around my neck that says “Ask me what happened!” How am I going to get around this? Eventually I’m going to have to leave the house. I can’t handle this. Insert laughing cry emoji. I throw in the towel. Ok Lord, here I am. I’m all yours. Teach me. I’m listening.
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