February, two years ago, I started physical therapy. That January I took a bad fall chasing a lob on the pickleball court (and for those who want to know, yes, I made the shot). Ironically, three days before the fall I prayed for God to make my next steps so clear that the direction was undeniable.

            I had been driving to Tallahassee every Monday, leading a Bible study with the ladies at Humble House. The pain in my leg made that drive very difficult so I had to let that commitment go. Pickleball was my therapy and exercise three mornings a week and even a couple evenings too, and that also had to stop. My regular commitments of volunteering in the schools and standing for long periods at the pantry also ended. I was placed on forced rest and I was miserable.

            Physical therapy showed me that I had a bigger problem than my knee and I needed to focus on my hips too. I made great progress over the first eight weeks. I was able to climb stairs and it looked like I would reach my goal of being able to walk the hills that summer during youth camp.

            Then the unexpected pain started. It felt like fire shooting down my legs and through my feet. I continued trying to move ahead in physical therapy, but I was limping on both feet and it was undoing all the progress I’d been making in physical therapy. After another week or two, they dismissed me from therapy and encouraged me to chase other routes to see what was happening in my body. Talk about feeling frustrated.

            I had no idea what God was doing. He was obviously answering my prayer for direction, but I sure as heck didn’t like the way he was doing it. I wanted to play pickleball. I wanted to stand up for more than an hour without pain shooting through my body. I wanted to be able to live my life like I always had. I, I, I.

            But God needed me to be still.

When we are still, we notice things we wouldn’t if we were busy. In stillness and rest, we are forced to sit with ourselves. Be alone with ourselves. And face our emotions. When we are always on the go, we tend to avoid, don’t we?

            In the stillness I sat in my anger.

I fed my frustration.

And I blamed God for taking away my physical well-being.

But when I finally stopped whining and asked God what he wanted from me in the stillness, his direction showed up in every scripture I read: obey and trust. Obey what I already knew he wanted me to do that I had been putting off, and trust that he could still use me, even if I had to be on my backside for a while.

            That season became a huge turning point for me; that’s when I learned to start trusting God with all of me, including my body. Looking back two years later, he continues teaching me to obey and trust. Trust him for the strength to make it through the day. Trust him for the words that he needs me to say. Trust him whether it makes sense or not. Trust him with everything that I’ve got.

            Even when the direction doesn’t make sense, I’m learning to trust him. Are you?