Walking In Quicksand

I went under the knife today to fix what was originally thought to be a torn meniscus in my knee (don’t you dare judge my lack of a pedicure in this picture unless you’d like to freely share photos of your own feet, we all know this has been a LONG quarantine season).

My luck in the health department hasn’t been the greatest but, if you’ve read some of my other posts, you know there have been plenty of silver linings that have been mixed in with the tough stuff. This surgery seemed to come with a shining silver lining of its own and, oddly enough, I was looking forward to today with giddy anticipation.

You see, with all the other physical fiascos that have recently crashed down around me each still presents with lingering pain from the cutting shards of the residual symptoms and side effects. But the nature of THIS process was initially going to be something completely fixable, rather simple in comparison to the rest of the things listed in my 10-inch thick medical chart, and an ailment I could leave in my past while I continued down my little path of other annoying bumps in the road that I try not to fall over as I manage them the best I can.

The anesthesia wore off in the post-op room and I woke up to the surgeon giving me a look. “What?” I mumbled, still a bit loopy but sobering up quite quickly at this point. “So the good news is, your meniscus looked amazing.” Ok, am I totally losing it here?

She continued ” Apparently, what looked like a meniscus tear in the MRI was actually a broken piece of cartilage that was floating around in there. We cleaned out the unattached fragments and smoothed out what’s left intact. The hope is that we can maintain this knee for the next 15-20 years before you have to have a total replacement.”

Once the shock wore off, the flood gate of questions opened up. So this wasn’t a quick fix? My meniscus is fine? Did you say floating cartilage?? My recovery time is LONGER now? This will be ANOTHER ongoing ache in my life? SERIOUSLY? Do you serve wine in this recovery room? Ugh.

I started spiraling in my own head, but then I caught myself. There’s a reason for this, this is no accident and there’s a bigger plan here. It’s not the outcome I was expecting, but it’s ok. I’M OK. God’s plans always work together for good and His ways are always higher than mine - I’m claiming these promises right now as I’m working through the words I heard a few hours ago. I have to and here’s why.

If I’ve learned nothing else in my wild journey, it’s that fighting the will of God is like walking in quicksand. At first, the ground looks solid so you start moving in a certain direction feeling fairly confident that you’ve got it figured out. Quicksand is deceiving and tricky, though. It makes a situation seem perfectly fine when the reality is that the outcome won’t be pretty and danger lingers just below the surface. As you begin to make your choices, you start to feel less and less steady until you’re eventually and completely over your head if you don’t turn around.

I’ve been there and I started to go there again today. “No, God. This isn’t right. This was supposed to be quick and easy. I’m not prepared for a longer recovery time, I don’t want to have a total knee replacement at some point, I don’t know if I can handle another specialist with another set of checkups on my already lengthy schedule of doctor’s visits.” And on and on I went in the silence of my own soul. But the reality is, the Lord is my Shephard and His job is to lead. There’s a higher purpose for this, albeit I have zero inkling as to what that might be yet (maybe I never will). And my optimism is at half-mast, but I’m growing in this area of my faith so I’ll count that as progress.

And you know what the beauty of the quicksand analogy is? Our God is stronger than any snare we’ll ever experience in this lifetime and He is always there on the edge extending a branch, begging to bring us back to safety. Unlike the fate of literal quicksand, we are never beyond saving when it comes to what the blood of Christ covers. We can be up to our knees, our neck, our eyeballs, or stifled completely by the utter suffocation of losing our way altogether and we’re still in the midst of an all-forgiving hope. We just have to grab the lifeline, friends. Accept the truth that grace is a reality for all of us, trust that any unexpected wrench in our plans is never outside of our Savior’s control and choose to follow with a faith that knows this will all be well with our souls.

Today was tough, I’m not gonna lie. It wasn’t the worst news that I’ve ever heard but it was enough to shake my foundation a little as I started trying to fit my square plans into this new round hole. But the moment I felt that sand shift beneath me, I knew it was time to give my future back over to God and move back over to solid ground. And you know what, it’ll be ok :)