It started at Texas Roadhouse. I should have known that crutches and their slick floors don’t mix well. It felt like someone had poured oil under me. I just did not understand why the floor seemed so slippery as they don't even allow you to throw the peanut shells on the floor so its not like the peanut oil is on the floor. I made it through the meal, but I was super slow walking and very anxious with every step there.
Then came Sam’s Club. It was raining, and those painted parking lines were like ice. I got out of the car, slipped, and screamed as pain shot through my leg. I froze in fear, praying immediately that nothing serious had happened. My heart was pounding, and all I could do was whisper, “Jesus, please let me be okay.” I used one of those motorized carts in the store and tried to rest it, but the pain lingered. Later that evening, my husband massaged it, and I wanted to cry from how tender it was. He did reassure me that my tendon was fine.
Discouragement crept in hard.
By Sunday, I thought I was ready to shake it off, but even that morning had its trials. I got to church early to help set up kids' ministry stuff and make the popcorn for the kids. But once again—I burned it. For the second week in a row. The smell filled the air, and that tiny moment pushed me over the edge. I cried. And once the tears started, they didn’t stop.
I tried to worship my heart out that morning, but I found myself weeping more than singing. I got prayer from friends, and even through the tears, I felt His nearness. My husband and I talked for a long time later that day, and he gently helped me shift my perspective. He reminded me that one rough weekend doesn’t define my healing or my strength.
And then Monday morning came. The sunrise was stunning—streaks of pink and gold across the sky like a love letter from God Himself. It felt like He was whispering, “I see you. I’m still here. You are okay.”
Psalm 30:5 says, “Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.”
And it did. That sunrise was proof.
Sometimes life throws slick floors, painful steps, and burnt popcorn at us all in the same weekend. But even then, God meets us there—in the tears, in the laughter, in the shift of perspective that reminds us His mercies are new every morning.
Healing is not just about the body, it’s about letting God touch the fragile, weary parts of your soul. When you feel undone, let the sunrise remind you that you are not defeated. You are being renewed.
Lord, thank You for being near when my heart feels heavy and my body feels weak. Thank You for gentle reminders that each sunrise brings new hope and mercy. Help me to see Your goodness in every moment, even when tears come easy. I trust You with my healing, my emotions, and my days ahead. Amen.
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