From Michelle. 3 July, 2010 6:30 p.m. PST.
Dear friends and family,
It has been a long day. Steve began the day tired, so while he rose to every occasion, he had few reserves in between. I am tired too. We continue to make strides: Steve managed to sit in a wheelchair today. By this I mean that he barely tolerated it, bravely pushing through a pain 10 out of 10 to sit for forty minutes or so.
Still, we managed to wheel him into the rehab gym, his first excursion out of his room, and a whole world of future possibilities – equipment, other patients, etc, which none of us had even known existed. The room has been our safe little hub from which we rarely come forth.
There has been much reality talk. Everything is about how to manage Steve’s current capacity. There is no sense yet, or assurance – scientifically or otherwise – of how much he could regain, so understandably, staff is working on what he can do now.
It is hard, however, not to get discouraged. At the moment, Steve has no ability to wiggle or curl or move his fingers. Using a wrist muscle he can cause some movement that he can leverage to do things. I find myself, today, however, simply wishing for his fingers to return. And I am asking you to join your prayers with mine for this.
I am still learning the balance between humble acceptance and hope. I feel called to hope. It is a vulnerable and frightening place, knowing that the outcome may not align itself with my desires. And yet not to hope is a small death of its own, of faith and of future.
So I will chose it carefully and tentatively, now, knowing that indeed God can do exceedingly more than we could ask for or imagine, but also knowing that his glory may shine forth even more powerfully in our brokenness.
For fingers,
Michelle