A little over two weeks ago I had total right knee replacement. Looking back, I can clearly see that I was woefully unprepared. I went into it like heading to Disney. The reality was far more real and a lot less magical. On the outset let me make clear that the doctors, nurses, and physical therapists were all the absolute best, and I gladly sing their praises. The one who disappointed me terribly was none other than myself.

The first jump after surgery had the complication of my allergy to pain meds. Everything was worse from Monday until Thursday when I quit the pain meds all together. I could describe this in detail and let you know exactly how wimpish I was and how miserable I believed myself to be, but you might be eating while reading the blog.

The awareness of the loss of hope arrived during this time. My attitude was saying that everything was bad and wouldn’t get better. I was enduring, not progressing. I felt it would never end. Everything and every thought began to be painted with the dark, depressing hues of hopelessness. It was like I was disolving into a world of agony. I knew that was wrong. I’ve been a Christian for a long time. I became completely embarrassed by my thoughts and feelings, so a war broke out within me.

The first help I received (I’m talking about the inner battle — I’ve had so much support from my pastor, friends, and so forth that I can’t describe it all.) was when I turned on Pandora to praise and worship music and just listened. I found myself weeping and holding on to my phone like I was trying to grab a rescue rope. A short time later, I found that I was far more at peace and rest. Pain had even seemed to subside some, and I was not fighting so hard to find any position that was comfortable.

God encouraged me to remind myself how many things my family and I have walked through. Jesus has walked us through many low areas and provided many generous blessings. This triggered a whole thing of repentence. Look what a bad son I was complaining and whimpering as I was in the current discomfort. I’m glad that the Lord doesn’t think the way I do. I looked at my mesery as a reason to hate me. He looked at my misery as part of the process of His making me well. 

I chose to quit complaining. It was a big step. No matter how much it hurt, I still belonged to Jesus, and He was on the job. I quit putting all my energy into generating dissatisfaction from feeling how I did to how I wanted and expected to feel. It was necessary just to expect Jesus each day. He was here. He is trustworthy. He was on the job. Whatever discomfort I had was where Jesus had taken me so far. I could and would be thankful because despite what I was unable to see or understand, Jesus is God, and I am His. My inability and failure was not a measure of what He was doing and had planned to do.

Praise music was therapy. Thankfulness was therapy. Exercising trust in Jesus for each day instead of my desires and expectation was therapy. The inner part of my life was again painted with the hues of hope. My ability to tolerate the discomfort was holding on and improving. At the start, anything was overwhelming and too much to take on. As time went forward, I found myself wanting to do more and take on more.

Here is the real payoff. For two weeks, I was convinced I was a total failure. I had just come around to wanting to be a better son to a faithful and loving eternal Father. I went to the doctor to have the staples removed. He told me that I had surpassed the goals for two weeks and was rapidly getting my movement back. I was ready to begin transfer from a walker to a cane. All other related information was equally good. Despite all my attempts at a pitiful failure, Jesus was a resounding success. He had turned my attitude around, focused me on the things I needed to do day by day, and given me a better outcome than was expected. He proves Himself to us every day in every way. That is a fantastic and loving heavenly Father.