Last night I was watching ‘my 600 pound life, where are they now,’ following up on a lady who’d had surgery a year ago. The show was documenting how she’d handled her weight loss and now, her journey to be approved for excess skin removal. She finally gets the surgery but while recovering, she finds herself having to learn how to essentially balance herself and walk again. Why? Well because the doctor removed the weight she had become accustom to carrying around. So, when she stood for the first time, after surgery, she was off balance. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t walk, something she’d done since she was a child but what she had not counted in was how her body would feel not having 60 additional pounds pulling her down. The excess weight had become part of her life and although it was heavy, her body had adjusted to it and with it being removed, she finds herself having to learn to live without it. And somebody reading this, you’re in a similar situation. No, it may not be weight loss surgery but somebody lost something and now you feel off balance because you don’t know how to function without it. Yes, it was heavy but your life had adjusted to it. And you can’t understand why, all of a sudden, your life feels different. You cannot make sense of why you find yourself swaying when you have been walking, perfectly fine.
You got divorce and now you don’t know how to function coming home and not having to argue with somebody. You don’t know what to do with the time you used to spend taking care of momma/daddy who recently died. You don’t know how to live after spending years in an abusive relationship. You find yourself still cooking like you got $5 instead of $500. You feel guilty when you wake up in a good mood instead of being your usual depressed self. You still buy clothes to fit your old size instead of the new. You don’t know how to accept a compliment. You don’t know how to enjoy the fact your ministry is growing. You don’t know how to walk without the weight and now you’re stumbling and swaying, crying and refusing to get up. Afraid to look in the mirror because she said you were ugly. Fearful of taking an assignment because he told you nobody would accept somebody like you. Scared of walking without the weight because you spent too many years walking with it. And now, you find yourself sitting on the side of shame, propped against a wall of weeping, holding on to a walker of weakness, carrying a cane of confusion or depending on the crutches of captivity. Beloved, it’s okay because I have your prescription for physical therapy and you shall walk without the weight.
Thank you for removing the weight. Now, give me strength to walk without it in order to get to the place, in destiny, you have designed for me.