I am officially “old”. I know this because yesterday, when I was getting out of my van, I somehow pulled a muscle in (around? near?) my hip. Yes, really. I am now hurting-yourself-while-getting-out-of-a-vehicle years old. Insert eyeroll here.
So now, my hip is sore. And I’ve been walking with a slight limp for the past day and a half. My brain is still trying to catch up with what I may have done to cause this while doing a perfectly normal activity of daily living. It’s a bit mind-boggling to me. But, it is what it is, and I will just be limping until it heals or until I decide to go to the doctor.
But truthfully, this couldn’t have been a more perfect real-life illustration of something I heard later in the day yesterday. I love to listen to podcasts while I fold laundry. And since I often have buckets and buckets of laundry, I often am listening to podcasts. I’d love to share some of my favorites with you, but maybe that’s a topic for another post.
Yesterday, I was listening to this excellent episode of The Glass House with Ben and Lynley Mandrell, talking with some friends about adoption and special needs in “the glass house.” The Glass House is a term they use for living life in pastoral ministry. And this episode is one that I actually personally requested over a year ago. In the intro, they mention how it is an often requested topic, and I am SO glad they have finally delivered on this. I have been hoping and praying they would address this facet of life in the glass house, and it was so worth the wait. The episode truly knocks it out of the park, and I urge you to give it a listen. It is descriptive and insightful while being helpful, validating, and inspiring.
There were many, many sound bites I could quote from this episode. But a statement that guest Lange Patrick made about “walking with a limp” profoundly struck me. As an adoptive parent, he has had to make adjustments to his own life and ministry in ways that he maybe would not have had to adapt if he were not parenting special needs and adopted children. We know this from our own lives as adoptive parents. Life just looks different than we expected or imagined. But Lange’s summative statement about this was simply that, “I will just always walk with a limp.” And it clicked for me.
He did not make this statement about limping (or disability in general) being a bad thing. I believe it is just recognizing that things are different and living within that difference. Things can be good and hard all at the same time. And to this I say, “YES!” This is what I needed to hear yesterday. And today. And tomorrow.
I am not a stranger to disability. I have a hearing impairment that has left me deaf in one ear. It’s something I am used to now, and I just live life with one hearing ear. Sure, it has its disadvantages (masks, anyone?). But I have learned to adapt.
Still, I have not, until now, really embraced the thought that the trauma and special needs and mental illnesses and disabilities of my children are also my disabilities, and I will bear the marks of those in my own life for the rest of my life. I will walk through life, yes. But I will walk with a limp.
I know that embracing the truth of what is will allow me to cling to Jesus as I persevere. The hard things will be there. When I’m tempted to be discouraged that I can’t be used by God because my life looks different than other “more productive” disciples, I need to speak truth to myself. God can use the parts of me that I find discouraging. And he can still use me. He will uphold and empower me to accomplish His purposes.
I think of Derek Redmond’s 1992 Olympic finish in the 400-meter semi-final in Barcelona. Redmond sprains his ankle just shy of 200 meters, and limps to the finish line. But he doesn’t do it alone. While Redmond is clearly in pain, at about 300 meters, his father comes down from the stands and supports him as he all but collapses in agony onto his father’s shoulder. They walk together, Redmond still limping, to finish the race. You can watch this emotional moment in less than three minutes here. You won’t regret it.
This is how life goes sometimes, is it not? At times, the suffering may be so profound that we feel in our core that there is no way we can finish the race without the Father holding us up. We need Him to bear us up on wings like eagles. To run and not be weary. To walk and not faint. But not only emotionally and spiritually. We need our community who comes around us to be His hands and feet in these times. Our people who walk beside us in the trenches, who come out of the spectator’s stands and get in the game with us. Church, we desperately need you! We need each other.
Second, I think of the New Heavens and New Earth where Revelation 21 promises us that we will be healed both spiritually and physically. There will be no more pain. There will be no more limp in my step. My children who trust in Jesus will be with me in the presence of the King, healed and happy. They will have no more trauma, no more special needs, no more mental illness, no more disability. We will together rejoice fully in God’s resplendent glory and power, and will be whole. Forever.
So while I may be (quite literally today) walking with a limp, I am still on this journey set before me. With God’s strength and the aid of His people the Church, I will persevere even when it is painful. And we will all press on to our heavenly healing with hope.