Beautiful, Even on Tuesdays in the Sam's Parking Lot

I feel like everyone knows this about me already. I forget that I don't really offer it up and just assume that you figured it out. And, frankly, doing a blog post about it is as weird and freeing as the day I put on a skirt that hit above my knee (for the first time) and made myself walk from one end of New York City to the next. Let the stares come. Let my knee shoot pain through my body. Come hell or high water, I was finishing that one.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. I chose a pink skirt and sensible black shoes, because that's the only kind I can wear. I would walk through the busiest city I frequented and reveal my physical weirdness and see how it went. If I could make it through NYC, then I could soooo make it through Nashville, because everybody knows if NYC thinks you're weird, then you really are. If not, then you're good.

Before I was born, while I was in the womb, I caught what they later termed a "temporary virus." I was born in Chicago and the Chicago Children's Clinic had no explanation and certainly nothing to which my case could compare. When I was born, my Mom describes these places all over my body that looked like cigarette burns. They were red, roundish and some were deeper than others. I still have the faded scars today in some places.

On the back of my left leg, one was particularly deep, even now. Whatever it was, it damaged the nervous system in my left foot. Most of my foot is paralyzed and I have no motor ability in the foot at all. I can't move it, I can't feel it, and it really doesn't do much else except give me a place on which to land. It is just there.

I remember moving to Nashville and thinking I needed another operation, and so I thought I would visit the head of orthopaedic surgery at Vanderbilt University. He took one look at the X-ray and said, "Amputation is your only option." I never saw him again because I don't respect surgeons who aren't creative. Then, I flew to Cleveland Clinic and saw the head of foot and ankle orthopaedics there. He said, "There's not much we can do, and we could try, but I can't make any promises." Regarding surgery he said, "Your foot is in amazing condition. I'm stunned. But, you'll know when it is time. Here's a friend of mine's number in Nashville. Go see him."

And, so, I visited Baptist in Nashville and had the routine X-ray. The surgeon said, and I quote, "What a mess." I laughed. Finally, some honesty. Then he said, "I'll do the surgery, but you probably only have one surgery left based the number you've had, and I just don't know. I won't fight for your foot, though, because you would get along so much better with a prosthetic." More honesty. I didn't like it, but I respected it. That was ten years ago. I'm still not interested in a prosthetic.

When I was little, I wore a metal brace from the knee down. My ankle leaned and it took what they called a t-strap (get it?) to hold it up in place. The brace attached to one pair of brown leather shoes, because that was all we could afford. One pair. I wore the same pair of shoes every day until I outgrew them, and then I would go and be fitted for another pair. Every few years I'd get saddle shoes, but mostly I chose the brown leather ones. All I ever wanted, though, was to wear a pair of tennis shoes. Really.

Finally, as I was entering my freshman year in high school, Dr. Jack Pushkin (RIP) did a little creative surgery and fused my ankle. It has been fused in that walking position ever since. I wore my first pair of tennis shoes, which were fashionably Keds, in the 9th grade. They were followed with Reeboks. (Randomly, I remember Donell Henthorne smiling and holding the door open for me my first week of high school while I was still on crutches. She was a God-send in that Annex building that moment. I never thanked her for that.)

And life goes on. Imagine having no feeling in your left foot and it is fused in walking position, and that's life as I know it. I cannot wear heels nor will I ever be able to. I cannot run, which is FINE by me. I have ongoing knee issues, but whatever. I just don't know any different. This is all I've ever known and so it is just not a big deal to me. I will say that I am very adept at compensating. I'm a master at covering it up. People I cherish even now are probably surprised at this. "I knew she limped sometimes, but I had no idea it wasn't from a sprained ankle." I love that.

I love that the people in my life, those who hold that title for more than a few weeks, are looking inside. Those are the people who are just not so concerned with what society tells them is most important, the way you look on the outside. You, my friends reading this, are the ones who didn't even think to judge me for the matter in which I had no choice.

Thank. You.

In case you were wondering, New York City didn't give me a second glance, either. I mean, not one person looked down and got 'the look.' It was amazing. Even in Times Square. Nobody. Seven years ago, New York City gave me a gift I can never repay. NYC reminded me that we are all a lot more concerned about ourselves than anybody else is. Such a hard lesson to take to heart.

We were talking yesterday in my writing session about songs that we felt were more Divine than anything. Those songs that were in the room, that we got to put our names on, and those songs that we really didn't have too much to do with. They were already there waiting to be written and all we had to do was not mess them up. Here's the lyric to the one that came to my mind first. It was my privilege to write it with Tony Wood.

Beautiful

There's a feeling deep inside me
Like I never measure up
When I look at those around me
I'm just not good enough
But there's a truth that cuts through all my doubts
and insecurites
it's like a song from Heaven
my Creator sings to me

All your scars and imperfections
All the things you hide
All the hurts and broken pieces
All the things you've locked inside
You don't have to be afraid
to open up and let Me see
I'm the One who made you.
You're beautiful to Me.

Just as He has formed you
and you're wonderfully made
the same hand is still working
in the story of your days
And in those hands your failures
somehow become a part
of what goes into making
the masterpiece you are

All your scars and imperfections
All the things you hide
All the hurts and broken pieces
All the things you've locked inside
You don't have to be afraid
to open up and let Him see
He says, I'm the one who made you
You're beautiful to me

When at last we see Him
Oh, how we'll understand
When we bow before our Saviour
Touch His feet
Take His hands

All our scars and imperfections
All the things we hide
All the hurts and broken pieces
All the things we've locked inside
We don't have to to be afraid
to open up and let Him see
He says, "I'm the One who made you.
You're beautiful to me."