The battle of the single calf raise

 I think I wrote before about my last appointment with my surgeon and the frustration I felt when he asked me to do something that, at the time, felt impossible — a single calf raise.

In the moment I felt a little judged, especially when he said to my daughter, “Make sure your mom does her exercises.” I will admit… I was offended. Not deeply, but enough that it stuck with me. And honestly, I do not want to be someone who is easily offendable, so that in itself has been something for me to reflect on.

This week I go back to see that doctor again. I know there is a good chance he will ask me to try the same thing.

Yesterday I tried again, and once again the tears came. I still could not fully do it. In that moment it felt like failure. But my husband gently reminded me of something I needed to hear — progress.

He pointed out that a few months ago I could barely put weight on my foot. Then I progressed to using both legs. Now I can shift most of my weight onto the right leg and slowly lower myself down — what the athletic trainers call a “negative.”

It may not be the full calf raise yet, but it is still progress.

Then he said something that made me pause:

“We’re helping your neural pathways tell your entire nervous system that you can support yourself.”

Immediately I said out loud, “There’s a spiritual lesson in that statement.”

Where have my patterns of belief limited my growth?

Where have I unknowingly told my mind and spirit that something is impossible?

As someone who loves Jesus, I want to constantly be in His presence so that He can renew my mind. And during this healing season, I believe the Lord has also been walking me through a season of consecration — a time of setting apart.

Over the past month I have been studying through Exodus and Leviticus, and I have fallen in love with the richness of the lessons there.

In Exodus 29, when the priests were consecrated, blood was placed on the right ear, the right thumb, and the right big toe.

In Leviticus 14, when someone was healed and restored from disease, the same process happened — blood and oil placed on the right ear, the right thumb, and the right big toe.

The symbolism is beautiful.

The ear — to hear God’s voice.

The hand — to do God’s work.

The foot — to walk in God’s ways.

The blood represented cleansing and redemption.

The oil represented the Holy Spirit and restoration.

Consecration and healing were tied together.

That has been deeply meaningful to me in this season because my injury is on my right foot. And as I read those passages, I cannot help but see the Lord reminding me that healing is not just physical.

He is renewing how I listen.

He is refining what I do.

He is strengthening how I walk.

Body. Mind. Spirit.

Just like my husband said about retraining the nervous system, I believe God is retraining my heart to believe in full healing — not just someday, but step by step, moment by moment.

Maybe the single calf raise is not just about a muscle.

Maybe it is about believing again that my body can support itself.

That my faith can support me through frustration.

And that God is still doing a deeper work through every small victory.

So when I go back to the surgeon this week, I will try again.

Not perfectly.

But faithfully.

And I am learning to trust every step but also trust the Lord that his plans are the best plans for my life.