I'll walk with you

It's something I have noticed about myself for years.  Something I am not proud of.  Something that makes me heartsick whenever it happens.  Something I always say I'm going to keep watch of and not do any more.

I walk ahead of my husband.

I know, it doesn't seem like a major infraction, a sin worthy of guilt and shame.  But for me, it is.

Right after Brian's accident, I was always behind him pushing his wheelchair, or next to him, if he was propelling himself as he liked to do when he was able to use both arms.  This was nearly a year.  When he advanced to crutches, I struggled to keep up, he got so fast!  This was over a year.  And then...his leg finally healed and he learned to walk, first with a cane, and then with nothing but a lift in his shoe to adjust for the leg length discrepancy. 

Now...he is slow.  Very slow.  On top of that, he has to stop and rest often because his back and leg hurt so badly.  And so my problem began.  I blamed the children for a while, because I needed to keep up with the little ones to make sure they were safe.  This was true, but I would notice it when Brian and I were out alone also.  It was painful for me to lumber along with Brian.  Not physically painful, but emotionally difficult to realize that for some reason I do not understand, my husband is forever called to a slower pace of life now.  Brian has no choice but to accept this slower pace, but I, with my undying need to sprint ahead and plan out all of life, have had a harder time with acceptance. 

I do not like to see him struggle.  I especially cannot stand this thought that his difficulties (aka disabilities) are permanent.  Forever.  At least until the next life, when we receive our new, perfect bodies in Heaven.  I don't know whether "forever" will be one more week or 60 more years.  I do know that the one I love, the one who is a part of myself, is stuck in his body as it is.   I, however, am not stuck with him.  I could walk away, walk so far ahead that we are no longer together.  I can walk away from the struggle of his "new" body.  He can't.  I won't.  I won't leave my other half to walk alone.  Figuratively or literally. 

And so, I must learn to walk beside my Brian.  I must choose to take life at a slower pace.  I must even teach my children to slow down, so their Dad doesn't miss so much of what they have to share.  Someday though, our children will have lives of their own.  I hope they still choose to spend some time slowing down with Dad.  I hope I still choose to walk beside my Love. 

Slowing down means...smelling more roses.  Enjoying more of the beauty in the world.  Enjoying each other.  Being thankful for the little things in life.  Letting the little things be enough.  Thanking God that He knows what is best for us.  Trusting God for the grace for each day to come.