I'm Weak, God's Not.

God gave me a pep talk last night.

I've walked a lot in these past few days, a lot more than I should have considering my Muscular Dystrophy. As such, I was seriously hurting last night. My legs were giving out on me, my back had me ready to scream, my head was pounding, and every part of me that could hurt did. Even my arms, which are normally fine when I over do it, they were exhausted from being held above my head to unscrew window blinds and stuff all afternoon.

It didn't help matters that I still hadn't heard back from Emerald after our first big fight.

All in all, I was angry and I didn't feel good whatsoever. Because it is a big part of my life, I had pinned everything that was going wrong in my life at that very moment on my MD.

It was working for me.

Heck, I had planned to post this horrible facebook status about how sucky MD could be at times just to vent some of my frustration. It was the sort of thing that would have had all my friends feeling bad for me and unable to find the words to comment on my status. It was that depressing.

Anyways, I had it all typed out in the status box, all but like the last two words. I was pausing for a second just to find les mots justes, the exact words that would evoke the greatest sympathy and speechlessness.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

It was a text message from an unknown caller. It read "Psalm 147" and that's it.

Let me explain what stood out to me.

First off, the chapter started out reminding me how awesome it is to praise God for all he's done.

Then verse 3 went and smacked down both my reasons to be emo-depressive. God heals the brokenhearted and sticks a Band-Aid on their booboos. As I said, I was frustrated at how epically I screwed up and hadn't yet heard from Emerald, and my body was to the point of breaking from exhaustion.

As if that weren't enough, God cross-examined me to see why I really wanted to share the message. I had thought no one understood me, except maybe Emerald who wasn't talking to me, but as is often the case, I was mistaken.

Verse six was a gentle reminder to stay humble, so I didn't screw up again.

Verse seven told me to suck it up and be thankful for what I've got.

To understand why verse ten hit home, it's important to remember my legs always fare the worst when MD is being sucky. They ached, twitched, cramped, and struggled beneath my weight--assuming they could even get me standing.

Up until now, it wasn't like God had actually given me the sort of real-world advice I needed to make it anywhere, but fortunately, he knew that. Verse eleven told me what to do.

Verse fourteen told me to think of all the things I've got going for me, like financial security (because I'm disabled).

Lastly, verse twenty pointed out that God made me unique, and everything that was happening in my life was not happening to any other person out there, as if my being disabled was somehow a puzzle piece in God's big picture.

After reading that, I couldn't bring myself to post the stupid pity-party status message I'd meant to. Instead, I gave God the glory.