Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer. Romans 12:12 Been my life verse for Officership thus far. Need it now more than ever.
To be joyful in hope right now? A challenge to be sure. Yet I am confident that my hope rests in Christ Jesus. His sacrifice on the cross, paid the price for our salvation. I rest in the hope that this life is temporary. Life after earth will be with God Himself.
Patient in affliction. This one resonates. March 20, 2020 and my Korean face is frightening people. The public has been fed misinformation, and xenophobia is rampant. This affliction feels awful. Fighting shame and self hate. Be patient. This too shall pass.
Faithful in prayer. Face down. In prayer. Why does my daughter have to be exposed to the ignorant hate of cruel people? Lord, please protect her. I will continue to cry out to you Lord. For you are salvation. Strength. Everything.
Feel for David, hiding in the caves. Running from hateful enemies. I want to hide. But I must praise The Lord in the midst of the fire.
There is hate outside. It feels unsafe. Life itself is in God’s hands. We are but dust.
Love walking. Have for 25 years. Lots of terrain. Mountains of Lake Arrowhead. Suburbs of the South Bay. Beach bluffs of Palos Verdes. I have walked for most of my adult life.
Walking has been filled with miles of music, prayer, beauty, angst, and creative energy. It has empowered and strengthened. It has taken me to places figuratively and literally.
Recently diagnosed with arthritic pain in my knees. It now hurts to walk. And I am deeply sad. Sad that something I have found so much joy in, produces indisputable pain. Part of me has died.
I am at a crossroads. Perhaps I must take to yoga, or the water. I just want to go for a long walk. Only now, it hurts to walk. This sucks. It just sucks.
To know that I will always have pain for the rest of my earthly existence. This depresses the heck out of me. And I think of Eric. And I am humbled.
I now sit with physical pain. I walk with physical pain. I still cannot really believe this new reality. What in the world am I going to do? I digress.
In my newfound pain, I look to my husband for help. I watch him live with back and abdominal pain, on a daily basis. Rarely does he complain. Rarely does anyone even know he lives in constant physical pain.
He serves without complaint. He loves without boundaries. His pain reminds him that he is alive. I am not there. Not even close. I am grieving the loss of my agile body. My pain reminds me of what I have lost.
I’ll get there. It’ll take a breath or two, but I’ll get there.