Slow Recovery

My pain tolerance is very high. So when I tell you this is day 12 (12?) and I am only now walking comfortably with a cane, as opposed to walking miserably with it, you might guess I’m in lots of pain. Scarier to me is taking pain meds. I know that denying myself that relief only keeps these very unhappy muscles inflamed, with no real relief. I am defiantly reusing to provide myself freedom from it. Nevertheless, I am much improved, somewhere near enough healing to risk re-injury. So this will be brief and then back to back rest again. I do poorly with confinement, so being up here in my loft is an indulgence. I trust that by the end of the week, if I behave myself, I’ll be free of the cane. This is soooo very boring! Which means I am vastly improved, at least enough to be the complaining patient.

I roamed out to lunch yesterday. Good food for the soul, spending time with steadfast friends who sincerely hope I heal back to my usual self outside the fog of pain. They were and are a great tonic. We went to Heck’s Café in Avon where a burger with sour cream turned out to be a not so fave choice, no fault of the restaurant, a lovely salad, an omelet, and for me, fish and chips, worthy of any Brit. My usual choice if it is on the menu. Two of our regulars were sorely missed, but we’ll hope for their presence next time. We used to see each other twice weekly, at choir rehearsal and on Sundays singing the anthem together. After 35 years the choir, sixty strong,  was dismissed. Many churches are thrilled to have ten singers. Who doesn’t want sixty? Thirty five uninterrupted years of a common bond such as the discipline of singing eight part harmony pulled off by upwards of sixty people lifting their voices to God in worship was a serious privilege requiring constancy unparalleled by anything else in our collective memory. That we were not professional singers torqued the new leadership. What we were was reliable, dependable, constant, with a long history of service, leading worship of the faithful by the faithful.

We were a community. Together we executed a fund raiser, providing dinner and auction to pay for our trip to the Ukraine. There were a hundred of us. We combined our medical mission with concerts as we sang for earnest and delighted audiences, stretched our physical and mental gifts for the Lord and discovered spiritual powers we didn’t know we had. We went deep into our dedication and knew without a doubt the power of faith and the divine blessing that automatically comes when in the Lord’s service. We know its’ Him powering us.

Some of those memories stand out sharp in my recall, others get blurred and mixed with other adventures with the Lord so it’s a really good thing I put together a journal to include the writings of my traveling companions. Through their eyes and hearts they wrote their experiences as we journeyed together. I collected piles of yellow paper distributed throughout the buses as the choir and orchestra tentatively recorded their revelations of purpose.

Lots of us respond in lots of ways to the calling of the Lord. Some of us begin our adventures with Him strictly from our point of view. Why we go is usually self-centered. We love travel, seeing new places, discovering how others worship a world away, but in the doing is hidden our true Purpose: serving the Lord. We don’t always know it as we do it. We go with God to discover His purpose in us. We find it out in the doing. We think we’re doing one thing, even while He shows us we’re doing something formidable. He only asks that we go! He does the rest.

Should God ever call you to partner with Him, don’t miss it. He does all the heavy lifting. You can be His megaphone, the collector and executer of His voice. And whatever it is you think you’re doing, trust and believe in His use of you for His purpose. We don’t need to know why. We do need to just say yes.

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