The doctors said that full recovery would likely take six to 12 months and from that point onward, I counted off the days with eagerness. When nothing seemed to change by the 6-month mark, I comforted myself by looking forward to the 12-month mark. The timing seemed symbolic to me – I would regain full health as we exited the trauma of 2020 and welcomed in a new year.

However, as I write this, it has been 1 year and 4 months with no guarantee that those weakened muscles will ever regain full strength. Not surprisingly, this is not a situation that naturally causes joy to spring forth in my heart.

In a year that was plagued with the peculiar challenges of the pandemic, a health issue was the last thing I needed in 2020. Each month, especially as I passed the 12-month mark and we moved further into 2021, my optimism dimmed, and my faith waned. Despite praying and holding tightly to my faith, not only were things not improving, they sometimes appeared to be getting worse. It didn’t make any sense to me. Where was God?

Join me over at Anchored Voices for the rest of this article.

(Image credit: Taven Hash from Unsplash)