When the limping gets hard

When I first started exercising again a few weeks ago one of my ankles was quite swollen and painful.  I sprained that ankle quite a few years ago and then earlier this summer while I had the cleaning bug I managed to knock a night stand over onto the same ankle.  At the time it hurt but I didn't give it much thought - until several days later when it seemed to be swelling and becoming more painful.  As the weeks went on it really wasn't improving.  Toward evening each day it would become more swollen, more painful...so I did was comes natural. 

I limped.

And when limping got tiring I put it up to rest.

I am happy to say that my ankle isn't bothering me any more.  I am not sure if it just took a few weeks to heal or if daily exercise was the cure.  I don't know that I will ever know - and that's perfectly okay - because it feels better and that's what matters.

However, as I finished my walk this morning I realized that so many things in life are just like that ankle. 

We limp our way through hurts.  At least I do.  I don't communicate the hurt at the get go.  Choosing instead to let it build into a bigger hurt until one day it just gets too heavy to limp with anymore. 

But instead of putting my hurt down when the limping gets tough I put it up to rest.  As if throwing it up on a foot rest where it is right in my sight and I can't help but dwell on it will help anything.

So, what are my hurts?  Loneliness.  Frustration.  Anger.  Name a few more, I'll probably nod yes to them as well.

Lonely?  How can that be?  I am surrounded by little people 24/7.  I can't take a step without an audience. 

Yep, lonely.  My husband works long hours, often not getting home until the rest of us have been in bed for a while.  This week he worked on Sunday, which if he is going to have a day off, Sunday is it.  He didn't.  Instead he worked until even later that night.  Once his work week is done he spends two days away from home volunteering at Camp Barakel.  Isolated because no one else in my circle has a family dynamic like this.  And sure, I can text or call him any time, but it doesn't mean that he will answer, respond or feel like talking. 

Frustration?  At my fickle self.  At people that don't understand why our family works this way or why we are doing what we are doing.  Frustration that wheels that I want to see turning don't turn fast enough.  Money woes.  Worry woes.  Stupid telephones.  The desperate desire for silence.  Ugh.

Anger?  I can't go there, but it's ugly.

All of these have gotten heavy.  And limping isn't cutting it.  So I have these puppies high on the foot rest, right in my vision, thinking about them constantly. 

Wrong, so wrong...and I know this. 

I don't write this to flaunt my hurt.  I write because it's healing for me.  I write because perhaps it will help someone.  I write because I need the written reminder that the only place to take my hurts is the Cross.

Because I know that Jesus would gladly bear these hurts.  And I know that I need to be taking them off the footrest and giving them to Him.  That's the only way that I will be free from their hurt.  Free to walk unhindered.

Because there are a lot of things in life that I cannot change, but this isn't one of them.  I can change my reaction to the hurt - and hopefully a few of you will pray along with me that I will persevere in taking those hurts out of my line of sight.

And perhaps, with a little bit of exercise in laying the hurts down I will wake up one morning and realize that the hurts don't hurt any more.  The loneliness isn't so lonely.  The frustration isn't as frustrating.  Perhaps the anger could be gone. 

It's worth a try.  Me and Jesus, working together to lay down the hurts.