Tomorrow will come soon, you know. The day I have been waiting for. My friends are somewhat uncomfortable about how much hope I have attached to this hospital. Did I mention that "HOPE" is my word for 2009? I am to ponder the word, learn about it, and more than anything, instil the meaning in my heart. And that, people, is why I have hope for tomorrow and the coming days. I didn't choose it. It is a gift from God. Hope. I have hope in a great many things, and now I have to live out that meaning too.
Am I making any sense? I know what I am trying to say, anyway. Having hope means you are never overcome by circumstances. Not possible when there is hope in your heart, no matter what the head may be saying. You see, as I heard in church this morning, believing in your head is not enough. You have to believe in your heart. Now I am a good authority on the state of my heart at the moment, and I can say with assurance, that hope is there in buckets. Spades. Whatever. Loads of it.
My friends are reminding me that the hospital does not say it can cure CRPS, but that it can teach you to cope with it better. I still believe in complete healing. It can be done. And I am claiming that complete healing. The doctor in Switzerland said that he believes I can beat this, but that it will take 6-12 months of very hard work. That I can do. He says I have the right attitude. I will not give in and become a victim here. He has also seen people make complete recoveries. That is what I am focussing on. Hope.
Trust was last year's word. I learned a great deal about trust throughout the year. And in the end, trusting, which does not come easily to control freaks like me, was the freeing of my soul. I decided to do as my daughter once suggested and walk away from the quest for justice from one of the hospitals involved in Geoff's care. Less than a week later, I had a call which could possibly change the course of our lives. Trusting. Letting go. It is difficult for me, you see, because I have a mind which wants to peer round the corners ahead of me. I set out on journeys, visualising the roads ahead. I know where I am wanting to head. I go for the knowledge. I read, learn, file things away, so that I am prepared. So do you see how hard letting go and trusting can be? I am still a work in progress.
But hoping.....now that is different. Hope. So much potential in the word. The more sceptical of my friends will say, face the facts, look at this logically, don't get your hopes up, be prepared for disappointment. I listen, and I know. I KNOW that the hope in my heart is right.
You see, I believe that my leg was damaged for a reason. That I have been forced to rest for a reason. That I have been stopped in my tracks for a reason. That I have been led to Bath for a reason. That my life has undergone a revolutionary change for a reason. That I have been given the time to look inward for a reason. That I may not know that reason yet, but that it is all part of a plan for my life. I can shrivel up in a ball on the couch, wail oh woe is me, and become a victim, or I can look up and say, I may not know the reason, but I understand that there is one, so when you are ready, let me know. Soon would be good. But in the meantime, I will do whatever I have to do to get better.
If I had not damaged myself in June, I would not have had the time to read as much. Or spend time with dear friends. Or work on the quilts and gifts, or have time with my son. Or had the time to just be still. I wouldn't have had the time to teach Margaret to make her quilt. And she would not have been here helping in my garden. I would not have spent as much time on the computer, or blogging. I would not have discovered new friends. I would not have forgotten the days of being sworn at, or pushed about. I would not have learned that I can be even more frugal than I was before, and that is saying something, let me tell you! I would not have learned how to accept help graciously. I would not have had to let people stand in the gap for me. I would not have learned how to receive. Giving is so much easier. I would not have learned humility. Or how difficult life can be when you can't walk fast, or on uneven paths. I would not have had the time to think as much.
Being forced to rest has, in retrospect, been a huge blessing to me, although not to my hips. But that can be dealt with in time. It is in preparation for something. I just don't know what right now.
But I have hope. And because of that, I am going to Bath tomorrow. I will keep believing in my heart. And in my head.