High Hopes and High Places

I suppose I can point back to my belief in "no coincidences."

For more than a year, I've been looking out my kitchen window at the view of Little Pisgah and Bearwallow Mountain and telling myself I will get new hiking shoes, so that climbing those and the other high vistas in this area will be easier to do. I haven't owned hiking shoes in many years, and my sneakers and duck boots don't give too firm a footing for those kinds of inclines, even when my feet are healthy. But I have a love of high places, and I have meant for some time to keep returning to them.

Then this happened. This attack on my spinal cord. This numbness and nerve pain. This lack of coordination. I stumble in the uneven block and gravel walkway from the drive to the house steps. I have to look at my dead feet when I use the stairs to be sure I'm actually stepping onto a tread, up or down. Slippery wood planks after all this rain make me gasp in public--am I on solid ground? I can't actually tell.

The high places seem farther away because of the new situation. But farther away does not mean unreachable.

Last week was the most painful I've had in this experience with transverse myelitis. At times, pain was excruciating. As I passed the four-week mark, I admit, my spirits were not in high places. I had some moments in the pit. Worried. Wondering. Am I strong enough for this kind of chronic pain? What if it never leaves? What if this is what I have to face daily from this point forward? How can I function? I need to provide for my children. I need to be present for my children. I want to keep serving in my church, job, and community. I have a new relationship with a kind and caring man that I would like to progress in. But this pain was all-encompassing, consuming. I would say it "bore into my brain." Maybe that helps you understand what it was like in its relentlessness.

I am hoping that I have turned a corner in the pain department now. It's early. I don't want to be unrealistic. The future in that regard is still uncertain. I have had some better days since that low, however. I am now approaching five weeks in and the broad window for when most transverse myelitis sufferers begin to see relief from pain is between two and 12 weeks--if they are going to have a recovery (and 33%-67% do experience some healing). I'm solidly in the middle of that window, then.

But in the midst of that excruciating pain last week, something popped up that I chose to see as a sign. A sign that I am to work toward reaching those high places again and not let this issue stop me in my tracks, or keep me below the horizon forever.

There was one pair of Merrell women's hiking shoes that I've wanted for this whole last year, to use to reach those high places more readily than I would have in my other options. But hiking shoes are very expensive, and I'm a single mom with a lot of kids and someone always needs shoes or jeans or braces or field trip or retreat fees or something else. So the full retail price tag was just a 100% deterrent, and even though they would pop up as an ad from time to time, I never even clicked on them after the first exploration. I just scrolled past. Until last week.

At the darkest point, the hardest pain, the time when I was watching the clock for the next opportunity to take a prescription opiod painkiller and anti-nausea medicine to get through the hours, those Merrell hiking shoes, in my size, went on sale at REI. Good old REI. I love the store but haven't actually spent money there since I was a single adult with no kids more than two decades ago. But once a member at REI--even if it was two states away and a lifetime ago--always a member at REI. And there were my shoes. On sale. And no small sale either. 70% off retail. My Merrell hikers that I'd been wanting had dropped down into the range I might find for my young teen's shoes at Target.

I really didn't think much about this purchasing decision. I know. I'm an intuitive, not a senser. Everything MEANS something. So I just acted on it. I ordered them. I took it as a sign and a motivator, something to work toward: You WILL reach those high places. You will walk with sure feet again. This is going to be the reminder of that goal, and it's being offered to you at bargain basement prices! If that's not testing of the spirits for a money-saving-mom with dreams, I don't know what is.

The shoes were a tangible representation of my goal to get better, to heal, to regain solid mobility and enough freedom from pain to function in places of joy after challenge.

I bought the shoes. They came today. I will put them out in view instead of in the closet to wait, and I will think about reaching those high places.

Habakkuk 3:19 is on my mind as I do this. For a very long time, it has been one of my favorite verses to cling to, to return to, to hold on to, to let change me.

God, the Lord, is my strength;
He makes my feet like the deer's;
He makes me tread on my high places.

I see double meanings in this verse, especially as it comes out of the Prophets and to our ears, our lives. My ears. My life.

I live in the mountains. High places here are good things. Long-range vistas. Breathtaking imagery. Wide open spaces. Lush vegetation. Freeing, return-to-Eden-like stuff. I have no doubt that to the deer, and to Habakkuk, there are similar parallels of beauty, freedom, GLORY associated with high places.

But not all high places are set apart by us for God's glory. In the Old Testament, the high places were often sites of idol worship. And oh, don't I have my own idols set in high places? Isn't even my own self-sufficiency one of those idols I set in a high place? Do I like to admit I am down, in need, injured, removed or limited in service? I do not. I admit it. Pride, my own superficial definition of myself, the health and active life and "It's REBECCA; she's always on the go" labels are things I thrive on. I put these images on altars in the high places of my life.

But look. Look at what God, the Lord is: HE is my strength. Not my shrines to my mobility and activity and service and efficiency. HE is my strength. And what does he do with those places of idolatry for me? He MAKES ME TREAD ON THEM.

I love this idea that he causes me to stamp out, crush (like he will do, has done, to our ultimate enemy) these fixations of my own. Anything that will take from him his glory in my life, he will remove from me, because he loves me. Because I am his. I can have no other master; no other lover of my soul. So he will cause me to tread on my high places of idolatry that put any semblance of my own strength in view of his work in me, for me. So he and I can have the closeness we're supposed to have, with none of my idols in the way.

Because he loves me.

But because he loves, because HE LOVES ME, he will give me back even higher places, and because he is my strength, he will strengthen my feet. LIKE THE DEER, who traipses cliff and cleft with tiny, sure feet to reach those upper limits. Sure-footedness feels far from me right now. But HE is my strength. It is not out of reach. And when I do reach it again, it won't be the Merrell shoes, but the healing of my Creator and my Savior who gets me there.

I believe it.
I believe he will make me tread (as in trample) the wrong high places and then set me surely to tread (as in walk securely and confidently) the ultimate, glorious, triumphant high places too. And I believe it will be both spiritual and physical. I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living--and that land may just include Bearwallow Mountain and Mt. Pisgah and Little Pisgah and Mitchell and Craggy Pinnacle again. So be it. I'm all for it.

In the meantime, I am seeing some improvement, as I mentioned above. Pain is far less severe. This morning, I took my last of the largest doses of prednisone. I do think it is helping, and I will continue on a 25% smaller dose for the next several weeks. I'm glad to take the dosage down. Prednisone has side effects and I've had several, with nausea and vomiting being the worst, but also bloating, facial swelling, some hair loss, and 2:00am sleeplessness with the munchies involved. It can also cause an increase in blood sugar, so my diet has to be low-carb and carefully monitored. But as long as it is working, I will follow my instructions. The last two days, I have had discomfort but not what I would call intense nerve pain, like it has been. This is a tremendous blessing and makes me hope with some reason behind it that perhaps there is actual healing and not just pain management at play here. (Feel free to pray for my Schwann cells by name. Those guys are on call to make a big difference in my healing, and as my brother says, "Demo day is over. Time to start the rebuilding." Schwann cells are fascinating. They do different duties and miraculously, by their Creator's hand, know when to change jobs. I literally do pray for my Schwann cells.) I can only trust in the dark right now that something good is happening. My feet remain numb, prickly, unstable, but less painful. I think my left leg is less numb. A repeat MRI on or about March 11 should show whether the lesions are less inflamed and stable. We hope to see no new lesions in that scan, and less inflammation than there was in the first one.

But also in the meantime, I am beginning to learn to come down from my pride's high place and ask for the help I need. I need a more stable walkway into my house. This is the current walkway to the back door. It is a single-file line of pavers spaced far apart and uneven with large, loose gravel scattered between. The gravel easily gets kicked up onto the pavers, making even the flat parts rocky soil. I have ordered enough flat pavers and some sand to redo the walk so that it is two pavers wide with no spaces between. A flat surface will make a huge difference for a person who can't feel the bottoms of her feet! As it is, I have stumbled too many times to count--and it's worse if I am carrying something that blocks a clear view of my feet while I'm walking. It's a humbling feeling--always looking down and not up and out into the world, and still being unstable! My good man has offered to help replace the walk on Saturday morning. My good friend Jordan says he thinks it's highly possibly he can come around to help as well. I plan to ask my church if maybe one or two other men with shovels, a level, GLOVES (by all means, GLOVES), and a servant's heart would help as well. It's a little under 60 square feet, when all is done (2' wide by about 27 feet long), and I think 3-4 guys could probably make quick work of the walk--which would be a relief.

Finally, in that area of humility, I will say that I have been blessed, relieved, helped, and delighted with the meal train that my dear Ashley set up for us, and for every person who has so lovingly created these beautiful, nourishing, and satisfying meals. I really didn't know how much a meal train could benefit, but under these circumstances it has been a life saver. It is still going on at a rate of 2-3 meals per week, and I am humbly asking that if it is possible to keep it going until right after my 3/11 checkup and MRI, it would bless us still. Self-sufficiency can take its rightful place for a time. Standing on my feet at dinner time HURTS, and I really can't even yet imagine navigating a grocery store for a big shopping trip yet. I can get in and out for fill-ins for breakfasts and lunches, but I just don't think I can yet put in the time for a full, family-sized grocery trip yet. Soon, though. Soon.

So that is my humble but hopefilled update.
And these are my new hiking shoes.

I wish I could tell you how they feel. I can't, because I can't feel my feet. But maybe that too will come one day soon. They'll still serve as an inspiration to keep hope and work hard and obey instructions and BE STILL ENOUGH AT TIMES TO KNOW THAT HE IS GOD AND I AM NOT. And I'll post pics again when I wear them to tread on some more high places. Or maybe you'll come along.