"What do you think I am - an invalid?" Thrusting my feet down I forced the wheelchair to an abrupt halt, "I can walk just fine. My blood pressure would have to be lower than 88/60 for me to pass out. Trust me!"
"Caitlin! The nurse said you have to!"
"I'm going to walk." I snapped, gathering up my water bottle, purse, and orders for IV fluids. I stepped to the side and headed for the entrance. Shaila in a puddle of exasperation.
"Are you done with that wheelchair?" I heard a grandmotherly woman sweetly ask. Shaila nodded resignedly and turned to follow me.
"You're just like Papa!" She fumed, referring to my grandfathers' legendary obstinacy, "And I don't mean that to be a compliment!"
Ignoring her comment I trudge to the low wall outside the drop off for the cancer center and sit down, suddenly cold from the wind and weaker then I would admit. I knew I needed to budget energy for walking into the infusion center on the other side of the hospital.
"You can just pick me up when you drive by."
And I shivered grace-less. Sick. Stubborn. Rude... Again.
And I sat on cold stone and spat truth at myself. Each time I journey into grace to learn His footsteps I circle back to the same spot of ungratefulness. Hurting those I love the most and barricading myself with pretended self sufficiency.
Forgive me, for I know what I am doing. It is not what I want - nor His wish either.
But this I still seek: to "grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." 2 Peter 3:18
Growing is slow.
And His Love is more stubborn then I can ever be.
For this - I am so grateful.