Therapy

Someone in my family had surgery early this year, of a kind that required physical therapy to recover from. I was talking to him yesterday about how he’s gotten to the part where he’s recovered enough strength and range of motion that most of his exercises aren’t necessary anymore, that he has been taking on more and more of his normal range of activities.

I was thinking about that last night, and wrote this in my scribbeldy notebook.

“People change when they’re forced to. I don’t know if I’ve been forced far enough into change yet.

“God is like a physical therapist right now. He has to make me work through my recovery, and it’s painful and hard and I hate it. It’s not what I want to experience. But I’m broken. I have to be healed, and I have to be stretched and worked and if God loves me, he’s going to do it. If he is a real healer, he’s going to act for healing, even when it’s hard and painful. So that someday, it won’t be hard and painful. So someday I’ll be all whole.

“God is working my spirit like a PT works the body. With great care and great intention and focus. Pushing right to the point that promotes healing, but not any farther. He is very careful about that. He needs to be, because I’m not smart enough. I have no idea what’s too little and too much. I just know it hurts and I’d rather not do it. And would end up crippled and stunted.

“A healer can’t let that happen. Not if their patient really wants to be well. Maybe God has to be stern right now, to push me through the work I need to do. And maybe the best thing I can do is stop whining and submit to it.”

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