Chapter-a-Day Psalm 13

English: Right knee.
English: Right knee. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever?
    How long will you look the other way?
How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul,
    with sorrow in my heart every day?
    How long will my enemy have the upper hand?
Psalm 13:1-2 (NLT) 

I reached a significant waypoint in the journey last week while vacationing at the lake. On Thursday morning my friends Justin and Chad joined me for an early morning water skiing adventure. It was a gorgeous morning and the lake was nearly like glass. It was the morning after July 4th so virtually no one was out on the water after the previous night’s festivities. I have been water skiing since I was a kid. While I have only been on water skis once in the past several years, it’s a lot like riding a bike so I figured it would be no problem. I did ski and everything was wonderful, right up to the point that I wiped out. Apparently, my body can’t handle wiping out the way I remembered it doing as a teenager and in my twenties. If I’m going to wipeout, I guess it is no longer advisable to water ski.
Waypoint reached.

According to my doctor, my skiing adventure did a number on the medial collateral ligament of my right knee along with some accompanying damage to the meniscus. It also caused separation of the 7th rib on my right rib cage. At best I can look forward to six weeks of moderate pain and discomfort in both places as my body heals. Knee brace, ice, anti-inflammatories, and take it easy.

David, who was the King of Israel about 1000 B.C., wrote the lyrics of Psalm 13 when he was struggling with an on-going illness. I think almost every human being has, at one time or another, struggled with what feels like an endless ailment of some kind. Some of us know the life-and-death struggle of on-going disease. Others of us are annoyed constantly by a disability or medical issue. Even a relatively minor and microscopic tropical parasite can do an acute number on our insides and leave us wondering if death itself might be a welcome relief.

Times of pain and discomfort are all part of the journey. Crying out in anguish is part of the human experience. And from the depths, if we choose, we mine all sorts of wisdom that will benefit us the rest of the way. It is what it is.

Honey, can you hand me that ice pack?
Six weeks?


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