The above photo was the first painting I did, inspired by my youngest son Riley (the picture following), the context of which is important in understanding the title of this post. In true transparency, I deplore weakness…which in fact, ironically, is one of my greatest weaknesses. The truth of the matter is that we all experience weakness at some point, and I think I’ve been blessed with my fair share…again, no plea for sympathy, it is just a fact, and one that became a blessing for me. I was diagnosed with a spondylolisthesis in my late 20’s (where the facet joints break off, so my L-5 vertebra is free floating). While I opted not to get surgery (because I was told it was only a 50% chance of improvement with 100% promise of future surgeries) I just kept fit, and received regular Chiropractic adjustments. (plus it doesn’t hurt that I fell in love with a chiropractor who also has a doctorate in sports injury). Anyway, along with a genetic autoimmune disease (adrenal/stomach) which caused dietary and digestive issues and bell’s palsy a facial paralysis three different times, my life has been focused on keeping a good diet, managing stress and structural strength, which I managed fairly well…until COVID.

Back in March of 2020, two days before our country shut down, while dancing with abandon at my nieces’ wedding, I shredded the labrum in my right hip (probably overtaxed by my back), which literally halted my ability to move and function normally, and since the country was shut down, there was nothing I could do to address the situation. I knew I needed a hip replacement but was forced to wait a year and a half. While trying to make the best of walking like a peg-legged pirate and being the administrator at our clinic which was dramatically altered and weakened by the pandemic and being cut off from people and unable to release my stress through movement, I really knew my mental health was at a fragile point like many others around the world. One day, my son Riley (both of my children were forced to move back home, which was also interesting…) gave me a picture he had taken the summer prior climbing Mt M at Montana State University where my oldest child got their computer engineering degree. He said simply, “Mom, you should paint this.” So I ordered a simple watercolor set and paper online and did just that. Not thinking whether or not I could do it or to what or where it would lead, I just did it, to put my energy somewhere positive amidst all the doom and gloom that surrounded me. The result has led me to a place that in hindsight, saved me. A gentle leap, the faith the size of a mustard seed has led me down another road less travelled, one more solitary and calm but vibrant nonetheless, even though it has forced me to adapt in ways I never thought possible.

I am by nature a mover. My earlier years were full of world travel that included cultural excursions, mountain/glacier/cliff climbing/hiking/biking, rafting down rivers, snorkeling, sailing etc., I also held multiple jobs beside my main gig in ministry to pay for said adventures that included aerobics instruction, cycling classes, writing curriculum, selling books and clothes (which were a wash because I seemed to use my paycheck to pay for all the good stuff I got at a great discount.;). While I’m glad I did so much when I was young, I also knew that adapting to my changing circumstances was inevitable. All was well, for a long time, until it wasn’t, when chronic pain (which I’ve spoken about before) was more in the forefront than in the background. I remember sobbing in the shower one day, when I couldn’t lift my leg up to the bench to shave my leg because of my hip issue and prayed that I could find a way around these horrible circumstances…and then Riley gave me that picture and said: “Mom, I think you should paint this.”

The reason for exposing all this personal stuff, which I am loath to do and literally makes me sick to my stomach sharing, is because I truly believe that in the depths of our sorrows, maladies, fears, disappointments, loneliness and the harsh reality of the weight of human limitation lies an opportunity that only takes the faith the size of a mustard seed in the God of love and possibility to find a glimmer of hope for a new path. To all who are weary, He will bring you rest. Part of adapting to a new reality for me means I can’t be embarrassed when my faith is stretched thin and I am weak, it happens to all of us. Faith is neither black or white…but I find comfort in believing that even a small amount of faith, when that is all I can muster allows me to take a deep breath and move forward, especially since I’m back to walking bit like a pirate again, as my other hip needs replacing. All will be well, though. I will dance the mother/son dance when Riley gets married in November, of that I am sure of.

Jesus said to them, “Amen, I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”