I was home just 48 hours. After returning from a two week missions trip to Uganda, Africa 🌍 I took a tumble down the front steps of our home early Sunday morning on my way to worship service. As I braced myself from the fall I heard a break. The pain I felt radiate throughout my entire body was unbearable 🤕. I cried, and screamed, but no one heard me. So I cried out to God for help. His response was simple and gentle, "I Am". In the midst of the pain suddenly I had the mind to make my way to the car (crawling) and drove around to our stairless entrance. Crawling, screaming , and crying, I pushed open the door and found refuge inside of the house where my husband and daughter were. The sound of my cry alerted them to wake up and run to my aid. The pain was so excruciating I couldn't catch my breath long enough to tell them what happened. "Just take me to the ER", I cried. After arriving to the ER I was immediately taken to Xray to assess the damage done to my ankle. It was broken and oh how it hurt! A dose of morphine later, I felt no pain and I could speak because I was no longer hyperventilating. Sharing the story with the physician and my husband I felt so foolish. I was carrying a box down the stairs in heels. Needless to say, I'm not Superwoman and that was foolish of me to do that. After hearing the news that I would have to see a surgeon, I braced myself for what was next.
The week long wait to see the surgeon was rough and the range of emotions I felt was real 😩😥😤😣😡😭. I went from floating on a spiritual high, full of faith, and ready to take on the next assignment, to anger in a matter of days. I could only get around on crutches which meant no free hands to carry anything. I was TOTALLY dependent on my daughters (thank God they were home on summer break from school) and my husband to take care of me. First off, this was difficult for me because I'm always the one taking care of everyone else's needs. It was difficult to be vulnerable and dependent. Secondly, why did God allow this to happen? The next several weeks would prove to be a process that was not only physical, but spiritual.
After seeing the surgeon he confirmed that I would have to have surgery and my recovery time would be 6-8 weeks! "What!? I can't sit still that long". Well, in the words of my favorite comedian Kevin Hart, " you gone learn today". Leading up to the surgery I was very anxious. I battled with fear that I didn't know was there. I also had to let go of some projects and engagements. Lets just say God was rearranging my priorities.
Following the surgery, my family continued to care for me. I watched God work on their hearts as they served me. I also noticed that God was working on my heart, as well as my attitude about being "waitlisted". Attitude is everything. Some days were good, but honestly, many of them became dark as I endured weeks of laying in the bed and not being able to leave the house. I was being buried. It was time for another death and I knew it. Once I accepted that this was the Lords doing, well He allowed it, I finally ask Him what He wanted me to learn and what should I be doing as I heal? His answers surprised me and I began to write.
Excerpt from The Endurance Ride of Life "Becoming Fruitful" Volume 2.
Coming Soon Fall 2019