Why, you might ask, was I in my chocolate-eating, cinnamon tea-guzzling state? Why was I trying not to fall apart??

Well, sister, come into my kitchen and I’ll set the stage:

I am alone in my kitchen.  I am listening to an instrumental collection of songs entitled “Peace.” I am humming along to Chris Rice playing “Like a River Glorious.” I am totally, thoroughly, completely soaking in the moment; quiet house, peaceful thoughts and the fragrance of cinnamon tea brewing.

Bang. Ouch.

My hand flies to my brow where the bump is beginning to swell. I say, “I can’t stand this” as I reorient and go to my freezer for an ice pack. I stand before the open freezer, a SpongeBob-shaped ice pack above my left eye, and try to lift my thoughts from how frustrating it is to be blind back to the peace that flows like a river. I take a deep breath and go back to the cabinet in my kitchen and pull out a mug instead. I lay down the ice pack, pour a steaming cup of cinnamon tea and proceed to leave the kitchen again, mug in hand.

Bang. Ouch.

Again, I walk into the wall. This time, cinnamon tea splashes down the wall and my right brow is throbbing. I say louder, loud enough to drown out the peaceful music which is now getting on my nerves, “I can’t stand this!!”

I stand there, face to face with the reality that I just can’t be thinking about anything else as I walk and not be prone to disorientation. I internally fume that blindness demands my total, thorough and complete concentration.

I go back to the counter where a sweating SpongeBob ice pack lays and pick it up to place above my right eye. I am not smiling. I repeat, sorta as a prayer and sorta as an angry mantra, “I can’t stand this.”

And then, I make a decision. I put down SpongeBob, get a paper towel and walk to the wall for the third time (this time it’s intentional) and wipe off the tea that is still dripping to the floor. I throw the paper towel away, pick up my half-empty mug; top it off with tea and decide I can’t change my situation.

As much as blindness frustrates me and discourages me, I simply can’t change it. So, mug in hand, I lift it to toast myself!

“I can’t stand it, but I can’t change it so I will not be defeated by it!”

After my big pronouncement in the kitchen, I cleared my mind completely, walked slowly into my office to type this all out.

We must each make the decision to stand.

I said “I can’t stand it” because it’s just a familiar phrase. But, the truth is I can stand it. I can stand firm in it; I can stand against the urge to get bitter because of it. I can put on my armor, piece by piece, and stand. When I have done all I can do to stand, then I will stand some more. (Ephesians 6:11-20)

I know it’s tiring to deal with constant, daily stuff. Really, sister, I do understand. (I’ve probably swallowed an ocean’s worth of cinnamon tea just to prove it!) I know the urge to give in is strong, but, sister, you are stronger and so is our God!

You and I are not of those who shrink back! (Hebrews 10:39)

(Okay, time out!!!!  I take it back, I take it back!!!! I need chocolate now and forever! )

But, what I will never take back is my trust in God who holds me up when I can’t stand anymore.

In the comments, I want you to leave a “pronouncement” like I did to my kitchen wall and to my blindness.  Tell whatever it is that you just can’t stand that you will stand and it is not the boss of you!