90%

Yesterday I managed to sear my finger with a kitchen knife, rendering me on the ground nearly paralyzed with fear, a couple of stiches (mercifully), and me typing this post with 90% of my fingers. I was bound and determined not to get stitches, to say the least. A tremendous fear was at my fingertips (pun intended). David knew that I had to have them, and I practically and preemptively decided I would be mad at God if it came down to it. 

Some gentle coaxing and I was laying down in the doctor's office with my willpower slowly being stolen from me. I just had to submit to the only thing that would heal me well. I left a new person - a fear was presented and I survived, and the car ride to pick up Little Abear was full of laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. The God I planned on being disappointed in got me through something I had no faith in overcoming - and tonight that hand, that finger, was used in prayer and in praise to Him. And it's left me with a deeper gratitude for a husband that will put up with a wife laying on the kitchen floor from a cut and losing air over the changing of a dressing. The ordeal provoked this love out of a 3.5 year old that I didn't know was possible - his greatest crisis through it all was not being allowed in the urgent care because he wanted to protect mommy.

I am so weak. I am so near-sighted. I spent a year of my life in deep, deep pain. Over losses I couldn't help, not fully trusting this God that allows - puts experiences in our lives to show us beautiful things. That takes our scars to show the world that there's a Doctor big enough to stitch them. There have been so many moments I didn't think I could survive the sadness, and month after month Someone carried me when I was too weak to stand. I know we're all untrustworthy sufferers this side of Heaven. We go kicking and screaming into surgery, more willing to go through a known pain than an unknown healing.

I am so broken, so very, very tired. And yet, this Presence surrounds me every moment of every day, coaxing me, encouraging me to take this cup of healing elixir and trust that one day this, too, will be a beautiful scar.