My Year of Recovery

"Having to go slow, literally, because my body wouldn't and couldn't do what it did prior to surgery, taught me to be gentle with myself. And that slowness and witnessing my body heal naturally after the surgery taught me how to fall in love with all parts of myself in a way I didn't know before." 

When the doctor's office called to say my surgery was scheduled for December 18 (2019), I didn't give that date a second thought. December 18, 1960, is when my Dad preached his trial sermon, and when my brother was called into the ministry, my Dad chose that date for him to preach his trial sermon (1988). So I felt December 18 was a date I, too, should say yes to. 

And on the one year anniversary of my (first and hopefully only) major surgery -- one that afterwards the doctor told my family was more severe than they thought, one that caused trauma to my body -- I cannot help but to think of the miracle this year has been, even with a pandemic. 

During my quiet time this morning, looking back over the year, I could clearly see that this has been my "year of recovery." And I was prompted to share some of what lessons I took to heart this year...
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• Listen to your body. Our bodies are pretty perfect and wise, and they are constantly talking to us. A pain here, discomfort there are messages to rest, slow down, change our diet, leave a person or a job alone. We are taught in this culture to rush pass anything that might slow us down. Work, work, work. Produce, produce, produce. I've always been a proponent of self-care but when I realized I missed major signs my body was giving me that something wasn't right, I vowed to listen closer to it, and the journey into deeper awareness has been a gift!
• Manage your expectations. I'm blessed to have a good network of friends, yet, I only told a couple of handfuls about the surgery. Still, if I'm honest, I will say that I had to learn to manage my expectations of those close to me. There were those who showed up physically (which I needed more than imagined) and others I maybe got a text from a few weeks later. The truth is everyone who says and perhaps means in the moment, "I've got you," really don't, and maybe don't know how to "have you." The flip side is I have a deepen appreciation for what it means to be present with someone and to truly have someone there when you need. (Thank you...) There is no substitute. 
• Know when to say no and respect other's "no." Another way of saying this is to have healthy boundaries. We don't know what burdens someone is carrying. On the outside we can look like life is fantastic and we can be suffering internally. I remember the night of my book signing (Sept. 19). I was on a cloud and beyond joyful, and at the same time, I was in pain. I covered it and the fact that I knew I was going to have surgery in a few months (it wasn't the time or place to focus on that). Be kind and be careful of the assumptions you make about someone's life. Not everything is sunshine and roses. And, if you're the one in the storm, know that you don't have to tell everyone everything. Manage your boundaries in a way that is respectful of you and others.
• Love fearlessly! I thought I was a lover before my surgery (lol), but somehow my heart widen afterwards. When you are put to sleep and cut open and hospitalized, you see life differently. You stop playing games and you stop playing life. You want more. You expect more. You give more. You have more room to receive. My love switch got turned all the way on for myself and others. The doctors didn't tell me this might be a result of the surgery or a side effect to healing so let me warn you should you have to go through something similar :-). ​
• We only have one life. This is it. It's not going to be perfect or always easy. I have more disappointments and heartaches than I care to count, but it's MY life to fully live, to take the chances, to try even if I fail, to live out loud, unapologetically. No matter our age, we are still "young enough:" if we have breath, to do things differently. To live wide authentically open. There's no going back!
• Notice what you don't say. I realized there's a lot that I don't share about how I'm feeling. We don't talk about our sorrows and pains. Maybe it's because we think it's a sign of weakness or we don't want to burden someone with what sounds like complaints. But when we don't have a safe place to share, we begin to ignore that which is begging to be expressed. I'm not suggesting everyday we "complain" but I do think there is value is finding ways (like praying, meditating, and writing) to deepen our awareness of what we are feeling -- physically and emotionally. 
• Pray without ceasing. I'm thankful I learned at an early age the power of prayer and faith. I will be honest though, the morning of Dec. 18, while in the waiting room and then in the pre-op room, I was scared to death. I had never been that frightened. My prayer was to come through the surgery successfully (alive and healthier). But all the "what if"s played in my mind, too. Thankfully, my Mom, brother, prayer partner, and friends were sending prayers, too. There were moments I needed them to carry me spiritually. But my prayers didn't start or end that day. They are frequent, sometimes hourly. 
• Be gentle with yourself. The greatest gift we can give to ourselves is our forgiveness. It is necessary to be kind to ourselves when we fall, when we are bruised, just as we are when we are on top of the world. Having to go slow, literally, because my body wouldn't and couldn't do what it did prior to surgery, taught me to be gentle with myself. And that slowness and witnessing my body heal naturally after the surgery taught me how to fall in love with all parts of myself in a way I didn't know before. There's nothing greater than experiencing God's love in and through our bodies. Sometimes that love shows up in our self-compassion, and other times it shows up as grace. Inhale it. Let it wash over you. Know there's nothing you can do to separate yourself from this unending Love, so bask in it, my dear. 

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I am thankful for a year of rest and reflection. I am thankful for my growth that continues to show itself. I am thankful for the angels God sends to be by my side. I am thankful for the miracle of life and the healing journey. I am thankful for the past and even more thankful for what is ahead!

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