The Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands

It started with a sore thumb, making crackling noises and swelling up like I remember my old MawMaw's thumb. Every morning when I wake up, free of makeup and sloggy from sleep, I more and more see her face (and my dear Daddy's) in the mirror. We are three peas in a pod, both in appearance and personality. I am horrified at the marionette wrinkles around my mouth, but then I smile because I loved those two people like there's no tomorrow. They're both up in heaven having a party with Jesus and I have to warm at the thought of their sweet plight. 

Meanwhile, the thumb pain spread to my wrists and hands, making me believe it was carpal tunnel syndrome. With all the typing and flute-playing I do, I shrieked in desperation with the trial of it. I ain't got time for that! I sought answers: research, passles of doctors, a massage therapist, physical therapy, medication, chiropractors, a naturopath, then in despondency I submitted to practitioners surely dabbling in voodoo. Nothing worked. Sleep was impossible. It only got worse, until one morning I woke up and couldn't get dressed by myself. With humble tears, as my dear husband gently pulled on my clothes, I wondered about how many people endure these things every day, all of their lives. 

Late last night, as I walked the dog in the darkness, I looked at the sky. The icy moon was large enough to pinch. It sat, springy and crisp on an inky, indigo ocean. Above it hung Jupiter, sparking white fire. My hands raised to the heavens in thanksgiving. The pain is real. I don't know when and if it will subside. If blessings were quantifiable, I've already had way more than my quota. And if I got what I deserved, the earth might just swallow me up. I've known heartache, sorrow, unspeakable joy and a ridiculously blessed life, but the unearned grace of God that lights my soul will carry me one day to His mountain. You think about those things when the world turns sideways. When my flesh and heart fail me, the redemption that I normally take for granted becomes precious, crystal-clear. I'm glad this ain't all there is...