Susan eventually got a sticker for her hard work at physical therapy.

By Susan Shanklin

“My help comes from the LORD, Who made heaven and earth. He will not allow your foot to slip; He who keeps you will not slumber.” (Psalms 121:2-3, AMP15)

Goodness, that is sweet water to remember in our days of trouble and anxiety. Water for your soul. Misplaced trust can lead all of us to dark places, but we always need to remember the light cannot be overcome by the darkness! Remember that!

Indeed, that was my sweet water for me last month when I needed to address the extreme pain in my left knee. I believe in His Word. I believe in divine healing. I believe! I used the Word against the pain and deteriorating bone and cartilage. I hobbled from chair to kitchen and back. I declined walks with my grandchildren. I was unable to thrift with my daughter. I started to order groceries online. Amazon seemed to be a fake lifeline. Darkness and hopelessness flooded my soul. 

I’m your child, Lord! Thank you for healing me! Lord, I trust in you, not man! 

It seemed I could not procure, secure, or attain my answer. I felt I had failed.

But where does my help come from? Why, of course, Lord, from You. Should I continue in this state of racking pain and hopelessness? Should I wait for months or years? Should I forget about the little ebony children that swarmed me in Benin, West Africa, for just a touch from the white lady? Should I continue to seek my healing? YES!

He is my healer. He is my strength. He IS!

I did not cave in to the devil’s thoughts for the destruction of my knee, but I sought God for MY next step. 

What is HIS desire for ME at this point in my healing and restoration?

I seek God’s counsel. I seek out man’s best. I am not walking this out without You, Lord. 

God placed a mini-vision in my heart of me walking down the concources of the airport and turning around and saying, “Hurry up, Tom.”

I’m out-pacing him. I’m in my race. I’m winning. 

God made me a winner, and I’m sticking to it.

Before they wheeled me into surgery, the surgeon asked me what was going to be the outcome. Duh!

I declared that he would be led by the Holy Spirit and do the best knee surgery ever, in Jesus’ name! And He said, “I can agree with that.”

I stuck to my Lord the whole way through. I still believed for my divine healing as I suck air in the operating room laced with sedatives and painkillers.

“Breathe deeply,” they said. 

Yes, I breathe deeply your Word, Lord. 

“Hurry up, Tom.”

I wake up. Well, kind of. Sort of. There was a skeleton crew, seeing I was the last surgery of the day. They were telling me that I’m going to WALK to the bathroom! 

Excuse me, ladies, but they just put a bionic knee in me, and I don’t know just how this is going to work. Oh, wait a minute while I puke my guts out!

Calm as the day they were. Puke and walk. Oh, and then they make me WALK to my room in the Care Suites, adjoined to the surgical center. 

It must be the drugs because there isn’t much for pain. 

I cannot believe this! I am walking with my hands gripping my walker, turning into my “suite.”

“Would you like us to bring down the Murphy bed, or do you want to lie in your recliner?” 

Easy answer, “Recliner.”

I puke some more. Tom is with me.

My sweet, faithful man of God, Tom. My saint and strength. My love. My dear.

They only keep me 23 hours, during which they make you walk to the bathroom, walk the halls, and walk up and down stairs! I think these people are crazy!

Discharge is simple, and I get in the “golden chariot” car to begin my next phase of healing and restoration.

Who knew how strong Susan could be in times of trouble? God. Who knew Susan’s restorative plan? God. 

He never left me. He never slumbered.

Our first evening home was an unwritten book that neither of us had read. 

Oh, my! How do you sit? How do you move? How do you go to the bathroom?

Saint Tom to the rescue. He was my encourager, prayer warrior, nurse, and home health aide.

Saint Tom and Jesus were the guiding force getting me upstairs that night while Susan was three sheets to the wind.

I kept confusing which foot to lead off of going up. It was a blur, but I don’t think it was for Tom, though!

He puts me to bed and tells me to wake him up when I have to go to the bathroom. I’m still three sheets to the wind, mind you. 

We make it. We rely on His strength. We rely on friends’ prayers, my daughters’ love and support, and the only true and living hope, Jesus.

A week into the recovery, they adjusted my pain meds so I could function like a normal human recovering from total knee surgery. 

First physical therapy a week later, I get a gold star. The second week, another gold star. First post-op visit, another gold star. Actually, they don’t have gold stars. I have to pretend they do!

I have my hurdles. I have my little setbacks, but who doesn’t in this life?

You see, I’m more than a conqueror through Him who loves Susan.

Hurry up, Tom!

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