Two Steps Forward & Three Backwards

“You can do it, Mommy!” Lovie said, as I stood with my walker and lifted my leg up and down, making my knees bend. “I know life is really hard for us right now, but we’re making progress! Two steps forward and three backward! Inch by inch and step by step, we’ll make it!” I smiled at her flip of the oft-used phrase of encouragement. But inwardly, I completely agreed with her mistaken phrase. Indeed, life does feel like two steps forward and three backward. Will I ever make any progress on the hopes and dreams I have for my life … and the life of my daughter? Two steps forward. Three backward. In reverse, I hobble through this thing called LIFE. The hardest thing I’ve ever tackled!

While chatting with her grandfather and me later that week, my sweet 7-year-old shared, “Ya know, Mom, I’m just so tired of you starting to get better and then something happens, and you get sick again or have another diagnosis. Over and over again, it happens. It’s like every time we think that it’s gonna get better and you’re doing good,” with great emotion she slaps her leg and exclaims, “there’s something else that goes wrong and you’re even sicker than before! It’s just … just really frustrating! Why does God let it happen this way?” My Mama heart hurt over my health being the cause of her spiritual struggle, yet my own emotions echoed her frustrations. With a slight quiver in my voice, I told her that I believed God would use this time of struggle in her early life to teach her how to be a beacon of her name’s meaning – “A new day of hope in Jesus Christ.” She nodded and said she knew Jesus loved us and would always be with us no matter how frustrating it was. And then, as quickly as conversations often do with a little one in charge, we moved on to other important topics, like how she would know what God wanted her to do with her life, how Samuel died, what Ichabod meant, and if there would be Gotcha Day parties in heaven!

But the conversation and Lovie’s flipped encouragement phrase lingered in my mind. That night, while Lovie snuggled in my arms sleeping, I spattered and sputtered and tried to find coherent words for what I was feeling about my health and its effects on my daughter, parents, family, and even myself. Since the beginning of this health journey (five years ago), I have earnestly implored the Lord that these struggles have a purpose and not be “for naught.” I long to be in the center of my Lord’s will, no matter the struggles, because I know that it’s in this center that He will receive the most glory. I admit that I often wonder if His glory is being magnified through my life of sickness and pain. I feel so isolated and useless most days; I’m so limited in my physical abilities. Most days, simply breathing in and out and pushing through the constant pain is all I can muster. How can this mess of a person, who has little to no contact with the outside world, be bringing Him any glory? Wouldn’t it be a better plan for me to be well and actively developing relationships to share Jesus Christ and His grace, hope, and peace? How does sticking me in bed, surrounded by medications, machines, and IV lines, really do anybody any good? Two steps forward. Three backward. Those two phrases echoed in my mind, as I was filled with defeat and fear.

So, Lord, I feel stuck in this desert of endless health struggles. If one pathology feels managed, the other “million” are fighting for the Top Disaster trophy. This desert You’ve called me to walk through feels unending. The Oasis of Your peace feels unreachable. Frustrating? That’s one word for it, Lovie. Devastating feels more accurate most days. But here I am – in the desert … dragging my sweet daughter along with me as we seek the Oasis of Your peace and magnify Your glory within the confines of our desert walk. Casting Crowns’ song, “Desert Road,” resonates with my soul these days.

I don’t wanna write this song

I don’t want this pain to be my story

I don’t want this desert road

Are you sure this is the plan that you have for me?

Out here in the dust and clay

God, if there’s a bigger picture

It’s getting hard to see today

But I know that you won’t leave me here

I don’t know where this is going

But I know who holds my hand

It’s not the path I would’ve chosen

But I’ll follow You ’til the end

Lord, as long as I am breathing

Even if it means I’m walking

On this desert road[1]

Oh my. This is so not the path I would have chosen. So not the life I had pictured. But, Lord, as long as I am breathing, I will strive to make Your glory known. “Even if it means I’m walking on this desert road.” I’m not a big fan of this desert road right now. I’m thirsty. The mirage of hope and peace taunts me. I’m tired of playing the two steps forward and three-backward game. (Honestly, that game stinks … worse than a mad skunk on a hot summer Alabama day!) But I’m here. I can’t find the exit. Instead, the desert stretches out as far as I can see. More infusions, surgeries, doctor visits, scans, and tests. All for the illusive moment when a doctor stamps my forehead with “All better!” Better… the mirage of hope.

While on a recent ambulance ride, for what we feared was another compression fracture, I had tears leaking out my eyes from severe physical pain and emotional nerves about what the impending CT would find. The C-spine collar held my head straight and kept my eyes looking out the back windows of the ambulance. Life flew passed me while I was striving desperately to keep my mind focused on what was true. As satan was throwing fiery darts of fear my way, I began to say repeatedly, “Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. There’s power in Your name. Jesus.” And then the Lord gave me an idea. I took my fear and put the names of God to it. I was afraid of a new injury in my C-Spine. “C,” I thought. You are my Counselor! S, You are my Savior. P, You are my Provider. I, You are my Intercessor. N, you are my …” I got stumped on this one and finally went with kNight in Shining Armor. “E, You are my Emmanual – you are with me even now! I started over at C and worked to focus my thoughts on the character and powerful name of my living God.

<Beep! Beep!> I interrupt this reading to bring you a real-life update. While writing this post, I had two more non-epileptic seizures. These neuro events last 1-2 hours and look very similar to a grand mal, though I am mentally alert but have no control over my spastic movements. My neck, arms, and torso jerk violently, my speech becomes stuttered, and my tongue swells making it hard to swallow. We have seen neurologists at several leading hospitals, but an official diagnosis has yet to be reached. When an event starts, everybody gears up for the long haul, as my dad prepares medications to help ease the contractions and spasms, and my mother and daughter battle fear and start to pray. The most recent event started while in the car. We had just had a wonderful time on the beach, listening to the waves and breathing in deeply the salt sea air! As we steered the van toward home, however, my neck started the telltale sign of beginning “doom.” Before we made it home, I was in a full-blown neuro event. These events are extremely painful and scary. In an attempt to keep my mind on truth and before I lost my ability to communicate, I asked Lovie to play the “Names of God” game with me. S is for Savior. E is for Emanuel. I is for Intercessor. Z is for … we got stumped on this one and I decided to go with Omega (Alpha and Omega … the beginning and the end … A to Z!). We continued to spell “seizure” by calling out the powerful names of God. As my convulsions increased, the whole car shook. Soon I could no longer speak and began to choke as my tongue swelled. Tears ran down my face as the pain in my neck and back screamed for the jerking to stop. And there may have been a few tears of fear, also. Having no control of my movements, with movements causing pain, I prayed my airway would stay clear until medication eased my muscles. It’s often in these tense medical situations that the Lord whispers in my deepest heart and asks me if I still want to know Him fully and make His glory known. This time, He used the Matt Redman song, “You Never Let Go.” The chorus says, “Oh, no, You never let go, through the calm and through the storm. Oh, no, You never let go, in every high and every low. Oh, no, You never let go. Lord, You never let go of me.” Those lyrics filled my mind, reminding of His promise that He was there and wouldn’t leave me. But then I shifted the lyrics and sang them back to the Lord, as my renewed commitment to know Him and make His glory known! “Oh, no, I’ll never let go… Through the calm and through the storm. Oh, no, I’ll never let go, through every high and every low. Oh, no, I’ll never let go. Lord, I’ll never let go of You!” After almost 90 minutes of convulsions, my muscles began to relax, the jerking subsided, and I began to rest. This episode had passed. Now I just wait – never knowing when my name might be called to head back into the ring for a match.

I find myself in this desert. With no real pathway out. Are you in a desert, my reader friend? Maybe it’s not a desert of health issues. Maybe it’s financial. Maybe emotional. But it’s a dry land with the ever elusive mirage of hope. I don’t have the map showing the exit. I don’t have the solution to dry your tears. But I want you to know that you’re not alone. You’re in some pretty good company if I do say so myself! What hero do you know that hasn’t walked in the desert? Sometimes, we just need to be reminded that we aren’t alone stumbling around in the scorching sun. Others have walked a similar journey. Still others are walking it now. And not only are we not alone on this physical path, but there is a Savior who loves us and promises never to leave us or forsake us.

While you may be taking two steps forward and three backward these days, I pray that your heart will be encouraged by the confident assurance that you are not alone.

Cheers to going through life a step behind! But together!

AfterSight™

A holy pause, asking the questions that linger after the words have been read.

• AfterSight One: Where in your life right now does it feel like you’re taking “two steps forward and three backward”? (What emotions rise to the surface when you name that honestly?)

• AfterSight Two:  When life feels like a desert, what is your version of the ‘oasis’ you long for? What does hope look like to you right now — mirage or real?

• AfterSight Three:  In your current season, what part of God’s character is hardest to trust… and which part is holding you together? (Counselor? Provider? Emmanuel?)

• AfterSight Four:  If someone could sit beside you in your current desert, what would you hope they’d say… or not say? What kind of presence feels healing to you right now?

• AfterSight Five:  Where do you need the reminder today that you are not walking alone — not even in the places that feel scorched and silent? What truth do you want to cling to, even with shaky hands?

  
  

For the Curious

[1] These are not my lyrics. Watch the official Casting Crown lyric video on YouTube.