Breaking the Rules

I know that I posted a blog earlier today, and I know it's a bit over the top to write two in one day, but something happened this evening that merits another post. And I need to begin by saying that I must make a confession right from the start. I walked alone tonight, even though my doctor told me not to yesterday until she said it was safe for me to do so. I couldn't find anyone to walk with, so I broke the rules and walked alone. Before you throw, as my mom used to say, a "conniption fit," I now walk with a backpack that contains identification, a drink, my testing kit, glucose pills and gel, juice, cell phone, the kitchen sink, etc.

For those of you who read this blog often, you know that my nightly walks are so much more to me than just the physical activity of walking. They truly are medicine for my soul, whether they are solitary or shared with friends. My doctor would only allow me to work a half-day yesterday and today, and I spent my afternoon growing more and more angry that I was home on a beautiful spring day and I wasn't allowed to take J.R. and go for a very long afternoon walk. By the time 7:15 rolled around, I packed my suitcase for my back and took off.

I walked slowly tonight and did pretty well for the first 30 minutes, and then I started with the now all too familiar low blood sugar shakes. After my crash on Sunday, I immediately pulled J.R. to the side of the path, took off my backpack and sat down in the grass. I grabbed my kit and stuck my finger, saw the low number, sucked down the box of juice, ate a glucose pill, waited a few minutes, stuck myself again, saw the low number, ate another pill and waited for the sugar to work its miracle in my uncooperative body.

When my sugar levels finally rose, I stood up and headed toward home. As I've written about before, I often see the same people as I walk each evening. As I began to walk, a gentleman that I pass almost every evening stopped and asked if he could pet J.R. As we chatted, the man shared that he was a pastor, and I shared that I often speak for women's groups. Since I was feeling rather weak from the blood sugar episode, and since I see this man almost every night, I made a split-second decision to tell him about my diabetes and ask if he would call for help if he ever saw me in trouble on the path. What happened next was, well, nothing short of a God thing.

Andy is his name, and right there on the trail, he said, "Let's pray right now," reached out and took my hand, bowed his head and began to pray for me. As I stood there with my hand in his and my head bowed, I was overwhelmed with the magnitude of the moment. I had chosen to defy my doctor and break the rules, to do something that I knew wasn't smart ... and I made that defiant and obstinate decision out of one emotion only ... anger. And yet, God still sent a blessing my way, right in the midst of my stubbornness, right to the middle of my angry heart.

As Andy ended his prayer and we said goodbye, each step I took toward home was filled with mixed emotions. Thankfulness for the gift of Andy's prayer, and at the same time, guilt over knowing that I had taken a huge risk by walking alone. Tears filled my eyes and spilled onto the path below as God spoke in a big way to my angry and defiant spirit, as He melted my pride and my selfish heart.

I made it home safely, obviously, since I'm writing this blog. But I also made it home changed. I don't know exactly how, but I've got to figure out a way to not walk alone for a while. I've got to swallow my pride and follow the rules somehow.

So here's to you, Andy, and to your heart for the Lord and the power of prayer. Thanks for letting God use you to teach me that there are times in life when I need to stop right in the middle of the path, take someone's hand, and say, "Let's pray right now."