And then the bang fizzled, sputtered and eventually died out.
Leg surgery can really knock a girl out.
Along with an unexpected stomach virus.
Bah!
Any plans I had of taking off with great speed this year failed.
Instead, it was a week of audiobooks on CD.
One good thing came out of it, though. When I asked my son what color my legs were he learned a new colour: purple.
Apparently the doctors aren't kidding when they say your legs are severely bruised after varicose vein surgery.
They didn't lie about the pain either.
I sat in my chair feeling low.
And then dizzy.
You think you feel bad recovering from surgery, but the truth is, you don't know bad until you are recovering from surgery AND have a stomach virus.
And let me just describe it to you in the most verbose way I have available at 6 am: it was bad.
I'm sure that clears everything up for you.
On Tuesday, I looked at my watch. It was the 13th of September.
Last year, this time, I was flying high with how much fun we were having in our new school year. My kids and I had come home singing, "Where are you going charming Billy?" after a day filled with fun at the Wisdom Home School BBQ. We tumbled through the doors of our home only to find a message that told me my husband was in a work related accident and in the emergency room.
Has it really been a year?
I looked down the hall and watched my husband walk into his office to study. He's endured months of physio, a surgery, re-training and more physio. Now he waits for word on his next surgery.
It has been a long year.
I wanted this year to be different.
Last year was a blur. I don't even know if we learned anything other than how to get in and out of a car to drive to physio. I looked over my daily learning photos and realize that somehow in the midst of the craziness, we did learn something.
My attempts to start this year seemed foiled, somehow.
I am drained of physical energy, low on enthusiasm and thinking of the year ahead has made me take another painkiller.
Seriously?
This is not the way to begin a new year.
I lay on my bed and talk to God. "Tell me about interruptions," I ask.
I am reminded of the story in Luke 8:40-56. Jesus was headed over to heal a sick girl whose father's name was Jairus. But on the way, He stopped and said, "Who touched me?"
It was revealed that a woman with a issue of blood had dared to touch Jesus, and in doing so became healed. Jesus told her that her faith had made her well. While this exchange went on, Jairus' servants came and told them to not bother coming--the daughter had died.
Jesus was not to be interrupted. He told them, "Don't be afraid, just believe and she will be healed." Jesus went in to see the girl, admidst mocking and laughing from those who thought the situation was impossible. He told the girl to get up and immediately her spirit returned to her. She was alive!
Jesus set out to see Jairus' daughter, but was interrupted. The interruption brought healing to a woman who was in desperate need of restoration. The interruption suddenly seemed to have been time wasted when the servant announced Jairus' daughter had died. Jesus didn't think so. He went about continuing the work He set out to do and raised the girl from the dead.
Maybe interruptions are just a detour of a healing work God is doing in our lives.
And maybe they are actually setting the stage for something more spectacular. Perhaps they are even the prelude to an event that will grow your faith like never before--even resurrecting something that everyone thought was dead.
Suddenly, I don't feel so off track with our new school year.
I actually feel full. Ready to embrace the journey no matter the shape it takes.
I'm fueled up for the ride ahead.
Bring it on!
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