I returned home from the hospital 48 hours ago, having spent 23 days there in the past month, including Christmas and New Year's. Three surgeries since December 24 have left me weak and more helpless than I care to explain, but at least I'm in my own own room and am eating things that were actually designed to BE eaten and I have the wonderful company of my family and my best friend. It's an infinite improvement over this time last week.
As for my current state, we'll call it super-sendentary. I have an antibiotic-coated spacer in place of my (new) old right hip, and I'm supposed to move it as little as possible. I'm in a semi-reclining position in a rented hospital bed, perfect for looking up at the TV and dozing but not much else. Twice a day, I get hooked up to an IV antibiotic and swallow a different antibiotic as well. And I wait. And wait. Yeah, for a couple of months.
Matter-of-fact as all this sounds, I'm not always this even-keeled about it. Some hours I lie here praying to hear whatever God has to teach me through this period, and the next hour I'm straining and resisting it with all I have, asking Him to just make it all go away and fast-forward me to real life again. And yet deep in the night, when there's nothing to do but pray and listen, I must admit that whether I like it or not, this is real life. Not the one I chose, but the one I live. And not an accidental one in the eyes of the One who holds me, but the current vehicle for turning me into the likeness of Jesus. Ultimately, can I ask for more?
Only for your prayers.