This blog is from my book, Changing My Mind: A Journey of Disability and Joy.  

My damaged brain tells me that building a wall for hiding isn’t the answer. Neither is waging a war of anger. Facing reality is. 

Maybe I can learn from Jacob, refusing to let his midnight match conclude until he was blessed. If the result guarantees a lifetime limp, isn’t a true touch of God worth it? 

Or from David, facing a giant or a king in attack mode or a sin while still journaling poetic songs of celebration and confession. In ancient prayer closets of caves and king’s courts, he released his worry to his Watcher. 

Or from Paul, rejoicing while being chased by foes or jailed by religious opponents or soaked from sinking in the sea. His choice to celebrate during turmoil, instead of after, teaches much to a spoiled modern Christian like me. 

Talking to myself helps. I try hard to remember and apply my Rs of Recovery. Rejoice and be glad. React with caution, with care. Reach into the lives of others even though I’m not as wise as I wish. Receive help from people I can trust. Release anger in healthy ways. Read and write. 

Now, even if words flow better typing than talking, I’m not forsaken. Though shaken, I’m safe. Though limping, I’m blessed. 

No, God did not warn me in advance. But with every effort to remember, God warms me with His hands. May I remember Him, the One whose name is too Holy to speak. And I hope to share Him with a world of people whose names I can’t recall.