So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.--Psalm 90:12
Three years ago this week, I was released from hospital after nearly two months, facing 4 months of physical therapy and rehab to learn to walk again.
I had just been told that I was permanently disabled, and would never work again.
I was struggling with who I am now, since I am not at all who I was. For months, I struggled with physical limitations, and loss of identity. I didn't know myself any more.
I could not understand why God had not taken me home, when I begged for death. Why was I still here? What was I supposed to do, when I couldn't teach any more?
I still don't have a definitive answer to those questions. I have, however, learned that even though I don't understand, I accept His wisdom. I may never know for sure the reason, if there is just one.
I am learning to see the humor in my life again. I have regained most of my mental acuity. I have been given opportunities to use my teaching skills in small, less-taxing situations other than the classroom.
My grandchildren have availed themselves of my sewing, crochet and knitting skills. My children have told me that I am an important resource for them, because of things I remember, and abilities I have taught them.
Now that Wick is retired too, we are finding new depths of our relationship, new ways to express what has been there all along, but we were sometimes too busy to notice.
We are living full-time at the lake. We have found a new church home. Our relationship with our Lord is growing deeper and broader each day.
Only God the Father knows when our days on this earth shall end. I am satisfied that He knows the number of hairs on my head, the number of beats of my heart, the path that He would have me follow.
He has remodeled my heart from four times its normal size to the size it is supposed to be.
And He has remodeled my spirit to accept whatever may come, because He holds me safe under His wings.
I don't know where I will be a year from now; I just know that wherever it is, He will be with me.
I had just been told that I was permanently disabled, and would never work again.
I was struggling with who I am now, since I am not at all who I was. For months, I struggled with physical limitations, and loss of identity. I didn't know myself any more.
I could not understand why God had not taken me home, when I begged for death. Why was I still here? What was I supposed to do, when I couldn't teach any more?
I still don't have a definitive answer to those questions. I have, however, learned that even though I don't understand, I accept His wisdom. I may never know for sure the reason, if there is just one.
I am learning to see the humor in my life again. I have regained most of my mental acuity. I have been given opportunities to use my teaching skills in small, less-taxing situations other than the classroom.
My grandchildren have availed themselves of my sewing, crochet and knitting skills. My children have told me that I am an important resource for them, because of things I remember, and abilities I have taught them.
Now that Wick is retired too, we are finding new depths of our relationship, new ways to express what has been there all along, but we were sometimes too busy to notice.
We are living full-time at the lake. We have found a new church home. Our relationship with our Lord is growing deeper and broader each day.
Only God the Father knows when our days on this earth shall end. I am satisfied that He knows the number of hairs on my head, the number of beats of my heart, the path that He would have me follow.
He has remodeled my heart from four times its normal size to the size it is supposed to be.
And He has remodeled my spirit to accept whatever may come, because He holds me safe under His wings.
I don't know where I will be a year from now; I just know that wherever it is, He will be with me.
