They won’t see me limping.
Because my legs work fine, you see…it’s my soul that wrestled with God (and He won). So I limp.
My soul, it limps.
Passersby don’t see the pain or the wounds, because the outside seems okay. Seems functioning. Seems normal.
They don’t know we lost a baby. They don’t know before that we lost our house. They don’t know before that we lost a job.
So much wrestling. So much wounding.
I hear the so squeaky wheels on my shopping cart and think about how even my cart has a limp. The cart suits me. We will lumber along together.
Even though we lumber, and make noise, and seem like at any moment we won’t make it. We do make it. We are victorious.
I am victorious.
The earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal. So I heal. From the inside out. The way deep wounds heal, without a scab to protect it, just the deep re-knitting of tissue. The slow, labored, limping healing that shows signs that a battle, that wrestling, happened here.
The healing that only comes with God’s breath laying constantly upon each decision, each choice. Each thought. With each breath He winnows, He molds, He changes. And even though the limp never quite goes away, I march boldly on to follow and endure whatever battle comes next.
God does not despise our limp. He wounds us because He loves us and wants to heal us. My limp is my battle scar. I grow prouder of it each and every day.
Even as I wrote the birth story of my stillborn daughter, I felt that victory. I felt the peace that surpasses all understanding, even, and especially, my own. To have such beauty, to dig deep and still find only tranquility on such a day…well God’s breath creates perfection in times of wrestling that are beyond me. And beyond my understanding.
Jesus knows my limp, He bears it with me. Even when I think a grieving mother is the most alone person in the world — my Lord reminds me that He knows my loss. He knows the isolation of grief. He knows, well, travailing for things to be different.
And I point to my limp and say,
“how does the heart break free?“
I hear His voice in my heart as He answers and says,
“be victorious, for Me and through Me, limp and all.“
Have you felt wounded by God? How have you found your victorious limp?
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