Today, six months later, I was supposed to have two good feet. I was supposed to be all better--whatever that means.
I was supposed to be able to:
~run around the block (or farther) if I wanted to.
~work out easily and get in better shape before my brother's wedding.
~run errands on a Saturday without a second thought.
~walk around Target at night without my foot turning the color of the giant balls outside.
~wear whatever shoes I wanted.
~drive down to see my roommates' babies (ripmyheartoutplease) whenever I wanted.
But, that's obviously not the case. My supposed to be is not God's supposed to be...
In God's supposed to be, I am:
~figuring out how to adjust and modify aspects of my life (I'm pretty sure that's a decent life skill).
~learning how to be an advocate in my own health care.
~spending more time with some amazing people (shout out to In-Step Physical Therapy).
~hopefully helping others become more aware of CRPS.
~going to USC next month to see a specialist.
~learning to trust deeper.
~realizing that God's supposed to be IS what's supposed to be.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.