I didn’t know that, though Polio’s aftermath would rule me for most of my life, I would come to the understanding that it produced in me worthwhile things that I would not trade for anything—even for two strong legs.
I didn’t know that the outward weaknesses I struggled with throughout childhood could turn around to become profound inward strengths in adulthood.
I didn’t know that the adversities I fought so fiercely to avoid could, in the end, provide the missing pieces that would make me complete and whole.
I didn’t know that when he proclaimed, “I have no place to lay my head”, Jesus wasn’t making a self-pitied plea for help, but making a statement about priorities and giving me an open invitation.
I didn’t know that certain disappointments and perceived dead ends of life have actually been orchestrated as diversionary protection from my stubborn presumptuousness.
I didn’t know that the wisdom of heaven would purposefully trounce my earthly apathy and through me accomplish things of great value despite my wishes to forfeit.
I didn’t know that when he says, “Follow me”, that Jesus really means follow him, no matter where he may lead.
I didn’t know that the hardship of Polio was really not the end of all things for me, just merely the beginning of a lifetime of discovery.
