My imagination had me poking them with my crutch in the behind.

 




























One of my favorite things in the world to do is to clap, raise my arms and praise Jesus to the fantastic music at church.

During Wednesday night service I found myself getting irrationally angry at anyone who wasn't clapping. My imagination had me poking them with my crutch in the behind. NO, I did not do it, for those who actually know me!

My disability is progressing at a scary rate. My hands hurt so bad for the better part of the day, even while sporting a pain patch 24/7. They are failing me. I drop things. I haven't been able to draw lately. And while the music at church beautifully and humbly infiltrates the room and everyone is gloriously clapping to the beat of the Holy Spirit, I have to stop clapping. I push through the pain the best I can, as long as I can. My God is worth every ounce of sacrifice from me. But then, I just can't do it anymore. And I am broken hearted.

When I am resting and observing those that aren't clapping I want to run over, grab them by the chunky cheeks and gently yell in their face, "USE WHAT YOU HAVE BECAUSE YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE IT ONE DAY!" "Do you know the pain and the struggle, the burning and the crunching of bones that I have to endure just to do something as simple as clapping or standing!"

I am well aware that you will see my face in the Sunday newspaper if that happens.

Of course, I understand that this is my issue. I don't think I'm judging, but I will investigate my heart to make sure. My theory is that I am learning how to cope. And it is definitely a process.

I am scared. My husband that I adore asked me, "Why are you scared, you know God is in control!"
I certainly do know that. And for the most part I live daily in my faith and praising Him for all that I have, the list is crazy-enormous. But I told my husband, "I am still human, it is OK not to be perfect."  I am certainly not even remotely near this side of the mountain-perfect!

When I am done feeling sorry for myself, which these days isn't long (ALL GLORY TO GOD), my faith stands as strong as a big ole' ox.

And that's when my heart softens and I open my mind and am concerned for others because everyone has a story. Not just me. Everyone has a struggle.

                                Suffering for God’s Glory

Beloved, do not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened to you; but rejoice to the extent that you partake of Christ’s sufferings, that when His glory is revealed, you may also be glad with exceeding joy. 1 Peter 4:12-13 NKJV

Captured this at the NCState Arboretum