Ed, Charles, and my stopwatch.
This was a phrase Ed used on me during the time I was rolling Charles, my Rice Baby down the hall, and I indulged myself by letting Ed ride on the hood. I found that if I squeezed my core and just kept one foot moving in front of the other I could walk much faster than I was wont. My big stopwatch indicated that my walking speed increased fourfold within about a week. Sadly, my leg issues soon put a stop to my efforts to move faster and try harder.
When I was still trying to hustle around the house and exercise despite my body’s protests it occurred to me one day that since I know the Lord, physical impossibility is irrelevant. I then proceeded to work out on my exercise equipment at full tilt in the morning, then was supine for the entire afternoon for a couple of days. When I emerged from my slumber on the second day I told Mom, “Okay, I admit it. Maybe I pushed it a little too hard.” She clucked at me and raised her eyebrows in a way that indicated that she knew this all along, and just patted my shoulder and made us tea.
I used to really believe that if I woke up earlier and tried harder I could finish all the things I wanted to do at work. Sometimes it would be like 4.30 in the morning and I’d be in the shower getting ready to go to the office like it was normal. News flash: It wasn’t normal. I finally learned that moving faster and trying harder are good ways to increase your efficiency, but sometimes they just don’t work. My leg problem drove that point home for me. I then remembered that there’s always enough time to do what God wants me to do in any given 24 hours, and for now, that includes resting.
P.S. Do you know what movie the title refers to? Hint: Early 90’s take on an old English tale – “No! I took the bread.”
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79. Warming Up
You can’t see the inside of the ring very well, but you can probably make out the “94.”
I actually have two special rings. I can’t wear either on my hand right now because of my dermatitis (which I hope is clearing up, and don’t worry, it’s not contagious – it just grosses me out – it won’t transfer to you), and also because my fingers are a lot bigger than they used to be. I used to be a 4.5 or 5 (ring size), but now I’m more like a 6-7. I will most often wear my rings on a chain around my neck, but sometimes I’ll wear a ring on my hand for a few minutes just to make myself happy while typing or exercising – e.g. Aunty PC just gave me one that I enjoy for the sparkle and the fact that it actually slips on to my finger (it’s larger than my “normal” size). One of the rings is my walking ring – it’s the one you see in all my pictures, and my major motivational strategy for learning how to walk. I bought it before I could walk because I was afraid of trying, so I purchased the ring to wear after my first “real” walk. My walking date (9.21.11) is engraved inside (Thanks, S!).
You’ve never seen the other ring since it’s something I’ve preferred to keep to myself. It’s pretty plain – I chose a plain band so I could wear it in Africa (when I chose it I still thought I was going to move there). The inside is engraved with 2 dates: 4.7.11 (the date of my brain bleed) and 7.24.11 (the day the Lord answered all my questions). There is also a verse: Psalm 94.18-19. It’s one of the verses I used to carry around on an index card in my back pocket at work, but that I remembered in my dreams in the hospital, and that I have found a more literal application for now. I’m sharing it because the verse M shared with me on Friday made me think of it. I so appreciated the verse, and I also loved the fact that M borrowed a word from Aunty PL!
If I say, “My foot slips,” Your mercy, O Lord, will hold me up. In the multitude of my anxieties within me, your comforts delight my soul. (NKJV)
p.s. Thank you so much for praying for Peter. He slept most of the day on Saturday and was perkier on Sunday. I think we were all happy to see him more alert, although still coughing pathetically.
Ed came to Therapy to boss PT37 around.
“Psst! The answer is ‘C.'”
Ed said this to me the morning after I fell in public for the first time. We had gone to a favorite restaurant for lunch, and since we were on our way home from PA, I needed to visit the little girl’s room. The restaurant is small and narrow, and the patrons saw me thumping down the aisle with my cane and did their best to minimize the space they were occupying so I could pass by.
I appreciated their efforts, but they turned out to be inconsequential. I was making my way to the back when I lost my balance and knocked against the tables where I set bento boxes and cups of green tea swaying. Thankfully, nothing was overturned except my pride, and Mom and Dad swept me into the back of the restaurant where I could hide behind a little curtain.
I’m embarrassed, I told Mom in my high school French. I was so upset by the incident I couldn’t talk about it in English. Mom sympathized with me but also informed me that we were going to go back out to the dining room, rejoin Dad, and have a nice lunch. And that’s exactly what we did.
When we got home, however, I immediately took to my bed and cried my eyes out. Such indulgence was offensive to Ed, however, so he sent me off to face the world on the following morning by saying, “Don’t be a crybaby today, okay?”