This morning I was reconsidering a post I started last winter and never finished. Sometimes that happens. I drift along, writing about a moment that captivates me, but then I’m not sure why I had been told to pay attention. The lessons we learn can be months – or years – in the making. Today, as summer dawns, I’m leaning forward to hear His whisper on this memory.
Cold rain pelted the colonial streets when I dropped my kids off at school this morning. 38 degrees and gloomy. I was turning left when a couple started to cross the road right in front of my car, walking a black Lab.
I saw her first. She was bundled up in a parka, hat, and scarf, and working hard to hold on to the pulling dog, who was giddy over his outing despite the weather, his tail whipping him into a full-body wag.
Then I looked at him. He was oddly serene – a dreamy, almost complacent expression on his face – and he had chosen strange attire. His muscles were lightly concealed by a t-shirt – and shorts! He held an umbrella over the woman, even as the driving rain splashed against his bare limbs. His gait was strong and steady, but ever-so-slightly unnatural.
Then I saw it – his prosthetic leg.
I assumed he was military, a warrior injured while serving our nation. But it could have been an auto accident or something else, of course.
Nevertheless, in the two seconds I studied his face, I saw resolve. Perhaps the kind that comes from having faced fear and done the next right thing despite it. Or from the hard work necessary to overcome a challenge you never thought you’d encounter.
Why was I directed to remember him?
Maybe because we all face obstacles to a smooth walk.
Despite my best efforts, I still struggle with comparing myself to others, fear of judgment, paralyzing perfectionism, and an inner critic who won’t shut up. When no one is counting on me, I’m also rather poor at time management and start projects I don’t finish. Then I worry that somehow these failings will become my legacy.
I could resign myself to these negative thoughts and let the foes of my spirit finish me. I could assume that I can’t improve my gait.
Yet I believe that God is pulling for me. His Word is replete with promises of His Love.
And He is sovereign over all – even over the various forms of darkness that plague my mind, creating muddy puddles on the sunniest of days.
…be transformed by the renewal of your mind…
This is a command. To allow myself to be made better. To be made new. By Him.
Through Him I will find the long-term resolve I’m looking for.
My ability to walk naturally through life without fear or pain is directly related to my willingness to yield to His Love.
Can I yield a bit more today?