Upon awakening I was aware of my calves feeling tight. My muscles had been stretched for a couple days. Reaching my hands out I could feel the bed was empty. It was time to get up. Putting my feet to the floor I quickly remembered the various cuts from stepping all over some glass the night before. Limping about, I found my husband doing chores already in the kitchen.
I went back to our bedroom, desiring some quiet reading. I opened my bible but when I tried to read, they were just words on the page. Laying my head on my pillow I felt naked. It was as if my spiritual covering had vanished in the night. I’d felt this before and I hated these moments.
A war began in my head. I had made a commitment to pray with folks for healing, but how could I pray for them if I couldn’t pray for myself? Maybe no one would notice that I didn’t show up? Lies shot at me like a rapid fire machine gun for how I wasn’t sanctified enough to pray for anyone. I could hear my accuser remind me of the multitude of my sins and weaknesses.
I looked at the clock again and realized I was missing my window of time. It was now or never for what I needed to do. I hobbled into the bathroom and turning on the shower I began confessing once more how ill equipped I was to do anything. My Lord reminded me I didn’t need my strength, just His.
Once dressed, I could feel my stomach rumble a protest that I wasn’t feeding it. I talked to my husband briefly and he was sensitive to pray for me. I packed a bottle of water in my bag and headed out the door. My feet had to go where I didn’t feel worthy to walk. Obedience beckoned me again.
