Dancing Along the Journey

This afternoon I put up 8 quarts of spaghetti sauce, 3 quarts of pumpkin puree and put 3 quarts of shredded zucchini into the freezer. There's a cheesy zucchini bake in one oven and caesar chicken thighs in the other. The dishes have all been washed and put away. 

This morning my mom and I picked the remaining tomatoes -- about 5 pounds -- the spaghetti squash, and more than a dozen pumpkins. Then we pulled up all the plants and cleaned out the garden. After that, we rearranged the Junk Creek room. 

Somewhere in there Scott and I closed up the tent trailer and winterized all the camping gear. 

I'm not telling you this so that you'll be impressed or call me Super Woman. I assure you I am not she. I tell you this because it means I'm feeling normal again.

Just a few weeks ago, I could barely drag myself out of bed. I could hardly face the day. Anxiety. Headaches. Exhaustion. Malaise. Racing heart. Crying for no reason. A trip to the clinic for ridiculously high blood pressure. Adrenal fatigue had gotten the best of me. 

But, God is good. He is faithful. He gives us abundantly, exceedingly more than we can imagine. He is healer. 

A few months ago, stuck in that well-known chair, I dreamed of all the things I would do when my abilities were restored. I imagined all the fun I'd have with my kids when I could walk again without pain. And for a few weeks, those dreams were reality. I thought my journey through "the valley of the shadow of death" had come to an end and I was once again on the mountain top. 

I was wrong. My journey took me deeper into that lonely valley of pain. That valley where you think, "Surely, this is the end. There is no coming out of this darkness." 

I'd thought my broken leg was the struggle. I had no idea it was the preparation. God used that injury to teach me to trust my limits, to seek rest, and to look for Him. The darkest days were still ahead. I had no idea. 

Is my journey through the valley over? I have no idea. I may have simply found a meadow of flowers in which to romp for a time. I could walk through a cavernous darkness again before I emerge on the other side. Or the shadows of this trial could be behind me forever. I don't know and I'm not sure it matters. Because He's with me. Even when I don't realize it. Even in the darkest of dark. And even today in the bright light of restoration. He is here. Today we are dancing together. Tomorrow I may be in His arms, unable to walk another step. But it's for His glory and my good. Lead on, Lord. I will follow. 

Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.Ephesians 3:20