THE DOCTOR’S ORDERS

You know what I didn't want for Christmas? Tendonitis.

Amidst the many, many books I requested, an injury that kept me from running was nowhere to be found on the list. And yet, here we are.

Wearing a sci-fi boot, getting tripped by the dogs on the reg, and making driving my very least favorite chore. Or going up the stairs. Really, it's a toss-up.

Ok, now that our regularly scheduled dramatics are out of the way, I can assure you it is not that bad. I am no longer in pain, I can go about my days mostly as usual, and let's not forget that I have a live-in foot doctor, a fact I now see I took for granted most of my life. One quick check-up in the kitchen, and I had a diagnosis and a designated recovery plan.

I really am so, so blessed.

However, despite that I am well aware my father spent far too many years in school to garner his professionalism and experience, (some of which I witnessed firsthand as sutures were practiced at our dining room table) one, I repeat one day in, and I was already questioning his authority on the matter.

"It's not the bad."

"It doesn't even hurt anymore."

"I bet I can start running next week."

The hopes and dreams of a foolish girl.

Despite the fact that I was confident I was just being a baby, and the injury was just a figment of my imaginative tendencies and low pain tolerance, I decided to stick it out. To take the advice of the medical professional and see the treatment track through. Even if it meant trips to the grocery store took four million times longer and getting up to use the restroom in the middle of the night meant donning clunky footwear.

Why?

Because I knew that my dad knew best. His knowledge gave him perspective that I did not possess. Though wearing the boot and waiting the three weeks seemed excessive in my shortsightedness, I trusted in my father's care and concern, knowing that not following the procedure he had laid out for me would bring only more pain and a longer healing process.

I know my dad, and I trust him. Unfortunately, as of late, I cannot say the same for my Heavenly Father.

It's hard, you know? Seeing others achieve the dreams you thought you'd have reached eons ago. Or even having the new dreams you've created for yourself whisked away for reasons that seem futile and purposeless.

I don't understand why my life is the way it is right now, but I do know how blessed I am to be in the place where I am at. Often times I love this perfect piece of paradise I get to dwell in on the regular. But sometimes? Sometimes you just really want things to be different.

Sometimes you just want to rush through the waiting. It's not necessary, right? I don't need it. The lessons learned here aren't going to do that much for me. Let's just forge ahead to where my goals are achieved, huh?

Nope. That's not how this works. That is not what the doctor prescribed for me. He is intent on making me wait, on making me see these things through, before I get to what He has in store for me.

Because He can see what I can't. He has knowledge that I don't.

He saw how going to BYU, though not finishing a degree, would be key in making me brave enough to choose what I wanted.

He knew that serving a mission, one that may not have been completed in the typical sense, would draw me back to Him.

He saw that continuing school at my local community college would show me that I could do hard things.

He knew that working at the salon would open my mind up to incredible and new possibilities.

He saw that moving from the hometown that I adored would gift me the space, time, and dedication to begin writing.

He knew that tending to His children both in the Young Women and Primary programs would unlock pieces of my heart I didn't know I had.

He had a plan all along. Looking back, I am so grateful for it. I am so grateful for all of the missed turns and the dead ends and the times that we're oh, so painful and seemed oh, so unnecessary. They brought me here. They made me, me. They led me to these dreams that seem just out of my reach.

But they aren't. They are within reach. They are always within reach, as long as I stay close to Him. As long as I stick to His track. As long as I toss my vision away for His, pushing through the unwanted and the uncomfortable and the not fun, trusting that in the end, it is for the best. That His ways are far better than mine. That straying from the path will only lengthen and intensify the healing process.

It's hard, right now, when nothing seems to be falling into place. But, I know this too shall pass. I know one day I'll be thankful for these stumbles and miss steps. Because they are really just prescriptions from the master physician and Father, ones we can trust to make us whole.