Praying for Your Purpose
Jesus faced His tribulations and cruxifixction, He prayed to God for his plight to removed. He didn’t want what was coming next. Jesus prayed “if willing, remove this cup from me…not my will but thine will be done,” Luke 22:42. I find deep comfort in this because I have prayed for my situation to be taken from me. My cup is my stroke. After almost 8 years, I still experience many ‘deficits’ to work through. I know in the past, before my stroke, I prayed hard for my life’s purpose. Unfortunately, I think part of my purpose might’ve been to have a massive stroke. Often times we pray ‘thy will be done’.
It’s not fun when ‘thy will be done’ is a stroke, cancer, heart attack, alcoholism, diabetes or ANY other sickness. All we can do is say ‘thy will be done, not mine’. And then, we trust. We have to trust that someone’s listening to us and making this happen for a good reason. ‘Our’ way isn’t cutting it. Especially, when there is a storm. Albert Einstein said “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” It can’t be some.
I had a massive stroke and it kicked my ass. I remember clearly having a major medical trauma event in my life and the hospital was extremely motivated to get me out as soon as possible. I was being pushed out of the hospital, but left picking up pieces of my life after having a major stroke. Many people find themselves in this place. It’s a lonely quiet road to travel and walk down (or roll down, if given a wheelchair). No one gives you a handbook on what to do with your life when you leave the hospital after a major medical ordeal. You, your caregivers and family, all find yourselves scratching your heads trying to figure out what to do next on so many levels. Maybe you’ve lost your legs, had a heart attack, survived a massive injury, lost your eyesight, you are fixed up and then shown the hospital door. At that time, you were so thankful to see the hospital doors and forget that there’s life on the other side. Most people are just so excited to be out of the hospital, they’re not sure what to do with their lives once through the door. Once home, it’s a blur of trial and error of things you’re supposed to do outside the hospital walls. That handbook would be so helpful.
I struggle with ataxia, one of the parting gifts from the stroke. I thought I would lose the ataxia within a year of my stroke. Unfortunately, it’s hanging out with me. We’re just about to hit eight years. I have it very badly in my arms and hands. The best way to describe ataxia is that it looks like you’re drunk. (And my loss of balance doesn’t help the visual.) Writing is very difficult for me to do. I can’t feel my hands so I can’t use a computer keyboard or mouse. I use voice-to-text and one finger to help me type when when the voice-to-text makes a mistake. It is a battle for me. For me to write, every word of this is writing is purposeful with voice-to-text or with my pointer finger. I have to believe there is richness in the struggle. At least that is my mantra, for now. There was no one to tell me how to find my new way to write. I just had to explore.
I love writing. I was never good with the spoken word. The written word gives me time to think about what I want to say. It’s one of the few things that I still can do. Many things that I was able to do are now just memories. I need to accept that I won’t be able to do those for a while, if ever. In the meantime, I need to find what I can do. My hands aren’t able to paint pottery or play with warm glass anymore. However, with modern inventions, I’m able to hook up a way to write without using my hands.
I do remember asking one of my physical therapists if it was possible that I was a better person for having the stroke. He just looked at me like I was crazy. What I was asking was not about my physical state. My answer today is yes. Yes, I am a better person since the stroke. It doesn’t mean I’m less of a person, it means I’m more of a person. I do things in spite of what I went through and work with what I have. Most people with disabilities do the same thing. They do things, in spite of what they have going on. That’s the extraordinary.
There’s a guy on Instagram (cptruths) that I just started following yesterday. He’s good looking and he boasts a muscular build with his cerebral palsy. All he does is just videos of himself doing normal things but he just does them ‘his’ way. We’ve just been told all our lives that the disabled are disabled. Here he is doing normal things, just in a different ways. That makes him extraordinary.
Our extraordinary friends teach us so much about ourselves and what we can do. There is a big testimony in being disabled. It shows us how great God can be if we allow Him. There is richness in the struggle. But we need to be willing to find new ways or alternatives. The stroke has pruned me. I’m growing in a way I would not have normally grown. If I hadn’t had the stroke, I wouldn’t be writing this. I’d be writing articles about where to find Mickey and Minnie at Disney.
Thy will be done. Not mine.
