Happy September, Blogging Family! It’s crazy that Ivan‘s last post was six weeks ago. Hopefully we will clarify that shortly!

I could begin with a variety of jokes about hands, mine in particular, but I’d rather start by quoting the apostle James:

¹³ Look here, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we are going to a certain town and will stay there a year. We will do business there and make a profit.” ¹⁴ How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone. ¹⁵ What you ought to say is, “If the Lord wants us to, we will live and do this or that.” ¹⁶ Otherwise you are boasting about your own pretentious plans, and all such boasting is evil. ~ James 4:13-15

Basically, that’s why I haven’t written y’all earlier. And I’m still not writing. I’m dictating a note on my iPhone. Sadly, Microsoft Word no longer dictates if you are one of those dinosaurs who actually bought the software several years ago as I did. Little could I have known that now you only get the dictation feature if you to subscribe to Office 365. So here we are: Future you, reading. Current me, talking into my phone and sounding like a crazy person to the landscaper near our screen door, knowing that I will still have to email this to myself and correct a bunch of crazy words and punctuation. Alas forsooth.

Returning to our main topic (hands), along with James’s commentary. The aforementioned surgery did what it was supposed to: It released some tendons that had been pressed together in my right wrist. But I was not a good patient. I was supposed to completely rest my right hand for at least 2 to 4 weeks after the surgery. For me, that was impossible. After the two strokes during my initial accident, I never regained feeling in my left hand, which means I’m still overly reliant on my right hand. Take that hand away, and I’m pretty much done for.

Praise the Lord, that the surgery happened in the summer so Ivan was on break and able to help me as much as possible. He was amazingly kind about taking care of chores, cooking, and all the random things that you never think of doing until you can’t. Like using utensils, or lifting a coffee cup (still can’t!), or putting toothpaste on a toothbrush. On my end, I began pushing post-surgical precautions after a few days because I felt guilty sitting around aimlessly, watching my strong, godly husband work like a housewife. What’s more, I hated the idea of him continuing to help me with my responsibilities if I was not completely better before the school year started, (See my plan to go to “a certain town”?)

I was not completely better when he got back to work, and I insisted on resuming as much of my old routine as possible (do business and make a profit). Hence why I am writing to you today. To summarize complicated medicalese, the surgery site healed as planned, but I’ve overcompensated while it was recovering with other parts of my right hand so that these parts are even more painful than the original injury was. My right hand has built up so much scar tissue and inflammation that it’s simulating pretty noticeable arthritis. Since I haven’t had this problem before, they’re not treating it as real arthritis, and they’re hoping it will settle down with lots of therapy. Until then, I have a giant red X marked over handwriting, typing, and therefore most of my academic/creative life.

Giving both my hands to the Lord is terrifying. God chose not to restore my left hand when he was healing me from my original accident, which means I haven’t performed on the violin since 2016. That loss is something I still grieve deeply. As I continue on this hand journey, I hear a voice of fear whispering, “What if you lose the right hand too? That was your second chance at creativity, at having a meaningful purpose in life.” But this is where I run to God.The voice in my head is lying. Living as God’s redeemed child is my purpose in life. And he helped me survive an extreme accident, which drives home just how much he wants me here on earth. I’m in his hands even if I don’t know the plan yet. Those fears trying to deceive me are not the guaranteed outcome of this trial with my right hand – they’re just worst-case scenario thinking. My therapist, on the other hand, is so confident he can “fix” me that he put a number on it : 12 sessions.

But even if God wills differently than the therapist, or I “find more “emergencies” to use my right hand; even if the scar tissue doesn’t break down, or the inflammation stays and it does become arthritis, I’m not losing my right hand. I’m sure we’ll find a good dictation set up. I might not be as creative as I’d hoped since I prefer working with pen and paper, but I’ll know that I’m working the way God wants me to work. And I know when I’m doing that, as the line goes in Chariots of Fire, “I feel His pleasure.”

I can’t see what the next four months hold. Perhaps not much writing (unless I can bribe Ivan!). But I know God’s sovereign plan is best for me, and for you, and for all of us who are waving our arms (and hands) wildly, trying to regain our footing after getting our breath knocked out of us by disappointment ninjas. Fall into God’s arms with me. He won’t ever let us go. 

Friendly Reminder: Walking with Grace: Embracing God‘s Goodness in Trauma comes out October 2!! You can pre-order now through Amazon or Shepherd Press.

<3<3Thanks for your prayers and support through all the years! <3<3