by RTF Guest Writer E.O. Luke

Weakness – it’s not a characteristic I want. As I lie on my pillow, an ice pack sprawled across my swollen foot and crutches balanced on the side of the couch, I think about how pathetic I feel. That one act when I felt so in control had left me a prisoner on my back.

I sigh aloud. Even as I write my battery blinks low and my ice pack needs to be switched, but the thought of moving makes me cringe. God why didn’t you stop this from happening? It wasn’t a life shattering issue, but it was painful enough to set me back in both my work and my goals for running.

Just last week, I had been hitting my goal of running three miles every day. For some that would be a small feat, but for me it was a milestone. Growing up, I wasn’t very athletic, and I had always been jealous of people who were athletic. In high school, I was always chosen last for sports and even friends picked on me for being slow. Now when I ran, I felt the years of envy and hurt roll off my back with each pound on the pavement. I felt in control.

Control, I crave the feeling. I love thinking that I’m in charge of my actions. Until something sets me back. That one wrong move that pulls the muscles in my foot out of place, one move that now leaves me on crutches for weeks. It’s just a sprained foot, yet my body throbs with pain. I’ll get behind in work.  I’ll have to take a day off.  I won’t be able to pay rent. Panic starts to set in as I feel the control slipping through my fingers.

And then it hits me. Oh, I get it. I really didn’t have any control before, did I? The gentle nudging of the Holy Spirit says, “Keep going.” I live most of my life with the pretense that I’m in control, and I make decisions every day that suggest I am. Of course, I pray about the big decisions: Should I take this job? Should I visit this church? Should I move here? But everyday life, that’s mine. Where I eat, what I wear, who I spend time with, who I date. That’s mine.

The truth is I have flat feet, and I’ve always had problems with my feet and ankles. It doesn’t mean God took His finger and pulled the muscles in my foot as I was running. But then again, who says He didn’t create me with this weakness for a reason?

That thought takes me back. How much of life is really out of my control, and I’m just blind to it? How many things does God do around me and in me, and I don’t even see it? The question makes me wonder. I’m not in control, am I? I ask Him. “No,” I hear. I smile. Well that’s a relief.

E. O. Luke is a professional journalist from Baton Rouge, La. Since she could pick up a pen, she has loved to write, from her desk at the office to the couch at home. With a desire to be used by the Lord through her writing, her hope is that through her fiction writing she can truly touch people’s lives.