Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up. (James 4:10)
One of the inconveniences I acquired through chemo treatments is neuropathy in my feet and hands. I’m learning to deal with it … slowly. My feet bother me more than my hands. I hear that’s how it normally works. If I could detach my feet and stand them in the corner until they promised to behave, I would.
So my husband, bless his heart, does what he can to encourage me and keep me comfortable when we go out.
Humble Pie in Three Slices:
- Ride the wheelchair he said. I had a doctor’s appointment at a fairly large hospital. She sent me for blood work at the opposite end of the building. Gene insisted on pushing me in a wheelchair. I protested a little, then took a seat. A humbling experience. When we reached our destination, I admitted he was right. I never could’ve made it on my feet.
- Use the scooter cart he said. Every time we went to Wal-Mart the past several weeks, Gene suggested I use one of those scooter/carts. I proudly said I’ll be okay, walked half way around, went to the front of the store, found a bench, and sat until he finished the shopping. The last time I went with him, I barely made it to the back of the store. I looked up at him and admitted I couldn’t go any further. Tears welled up in my eyes as we walked to the entrance where I had a lesson in driving a scooter/cart from a sweet lady who had just finished her shopping in one. I buzzed back into the store and swiped the tears from my cheeks as I swallowed that big hunk of humble pie. Again, I had to admit he was right. I was so silly to have tortured myself rather than accept the help available to me.
- Buy a shower chair he said. We had discussed buying a shower chair for a couple of months because taking a shower exhausted me. My nerves will heal in time. I’m getting stronger. I can take a shower without sitting down. The trouble was I couldn’t. I had to lean on the shower wall to wash. And I struggled to get out of the tub when I finished. One day Gene put on his coat and said he was going to get me a shower chair. That was that. I bit into another slice of humble pie and, like the other times, was thankful I had. I only wished I had listened sooner.
My neuropathy keep me from living life the way I used to live it. I eat more humble pie because of it. But it’s not going to stop me from doing what God created me to do. It won’t rob me of my joy. It won’t keep me from loving and being loved. As long as I can draw pictures like the above goat, I know God has a plan for me.
How about you? What has caused you to eat a little humble pie lately?
See you in a twinkling,
Brenda K. Hendricks