“I guess I’ve probably done some stupid $h*! in my life to end up here right now.”   

My husband said that to me as I sat in a draped cubicle, at the foot of the bed where he lay – prepped for surgery. 

If you’ve followed along here for the past few weeks, you might remember that I recently turned 49-years-old, and that I generally feel pretty content with it. 

My husband walks through this life a year-and-a-half ahead of me.  He hit the Big 5-0 late last summer.  I know he would agree when I say that all in all, we just do not feel or think of ourselves as nearly as old as we actually (apparently) are. 

Nothing else has ever made me consider whether I might be in complete denial about that quite as much as sitting there, waiting for hip replacement surgery to become a very real part of our world.  (But, in all fairness, 50 really is a relatively tender age for that…)

As he so eloquently mentioned in that eleventh hour, I do think it seems completely fair to say that much of what he has put his body through in his 50-years would not exactly qualify as normal wear and tear.   His next reflective comment went something like, “When I was 17, they told me I would end up needing to get a bunch of stuffed fixed at 50.  I’m sure I thought ‘FIFTY??  Who cares!?’” 

Fifty came fast. 

As he voiced those thoughts, I think we both knew that – at least at that moment – it made the most sense to just let them hang in the air as rhetorical statements.  It felt like neither the time nor the place to tap into the complexity of it all. 

I know that, just then, he would have preferred to be anywhere else, doing anything else.  (And - since I always tell the truth here – I would have, too!)  Yet I also know that, looking back, neither of us could honestly say that we would change a thing about how we got there in the first place. 

We got there thanks to a roughly 16-year-long football career that he began, believe it or not, at six-years-old.  His college career capped off the whole experience with what we now recognize as ridiculous abuse to his body.  I experienced those years with him.  We both got to enjoy the glory of it all, and to share the memories made during that time. Memories that felt priceless then, and in many ways still do.  Even though they did come with a cost we always knew we’d need to pay “later” …

Obviously, this surgery did not take us by surprise.  However, it did not feel exactly serendipitous that it began to seem imminently necessary in 2020, of all times.  In a year riddled with uncertainty and countless reasons to avoid “voluntarily” going into a hospital for anything, it certainly did not feel like “the right time” to sign up for a surgery almost 30-years in the making.  Even though the pain grew harder and harder to manage, he delayed it for as long as he could – until he reached a point where we both feared even more damage as a result of waiting any longer. 

At least we had made it to 2021 and had finally begun seeing at least glimpses of slightly more “normalcy”.    

In all honesty, that really didn’t feel a whole lot better to me.  On top of the messed-up year through which we had all (and I mean ALL of us) just lived, it felt like one more scary thing with the potential to change and limit our life again.  We all want so badly to get back to “normal”, yet I admit I have fallen into great discouragement at times wondering if that will ever come. 

I feel confident saying that, unless you live in the day-to-day of Real Life with us, you likely never would have known about any of this.  He …we… wanted it that way – for a variety of reasons.

Yet I can’t help but wonder whether we really do the right thing when we keep these sorts of struggles so relatively private. 

I know that when I struggle with potentially serious things, I often have a way of looking at the rest of the world and imagining everyone else as carefree.  That, of course, is never true.  How often do we see the memes and the viral social media posts that remind us that we just never know what someone else is going though?  It’s so true:  We all have something – all the time. 

Maybe if I could be more honest about the times when I struggle, too, it could help someone else feel less alone. 

Maybe if I would more openly invite others into my struggles, they would appreciate the opportunity to help.  Maybe I should give them the chance to pray with me and for me. 

I don’t think we have to tell the whole world our problems, but sometimes just admitting out loud that we are struggling – sharing how we feel with even one other person who cares – can make the load feel a little lighter and easier to carry.

A little over two-weeks into recovery, my husband has progressed amazingly well.  Earlier this week at his official follow-up appointment, his doctor incredulously declared him a month “ahead” of the typical recovery schedule.   His physical strength and condition going into surgery have undoubtedly played a huge role in that.  But I believe that, just as importantly, so has his attitude.  I know that his determination that this will neither keep him down, nor cost us any more time than necessary out of Real Life serves as his greatest motivator to get well. 

As I watch him set a living example of just how much a positive attitude combined with determination can accomplish, I wonder if we should let more people see it.  Maybe it could provide encouragement to someone else just when they need it.

It’s not over yet.  There is still much more healing to do. 

But for today, I do feel grateful once more for God’s grace and mercy.  I see how He uses these circumstances to show us, yet again, that He can and will help us handle all things.  I know He wants to remind us that, if we trust and walk through them, one day at a time, we can come out stronger on the other side.   

I’m learning that, most often, the moments we would prefer to skip turn out to be the very ones that set us up to grow stronger.  I think it’s totally OK if we don’t necessarily appreciate those moments themselves – as long as we do appreciate the strength we gain by making it through them.    

So, I guess it’s true:  Hips really do not lie.  Just look at how much truth we have discovered because of one…