Minding the Gaps

 For the record, the sidewalks of downtown Fort Wayne are pretty awesome. Most of them are very smooth and even, and curb ramps are easy to navigate. Granted, Fort Wayne is super-flat, in a stereotypical midwestern way, so that makes it easier, and the downtown area has had a major facelift in the past ten years so a lot of the sidewalks are new. But still, I give kudos where kudos are due: Well done on the accessibility, city of Fort Wayne! 

This summer I've cruised along on many of the sidewalks to get to various places, and I have identified an occasional rough patch of sidewalk that took some turtle-speed and dime-turn maneuvering to conquer. Some are broken up and gravelly, some are pushed up by tree roots, some are too narrow for me to get around a fence or fire hydrant. And while I do conquer them, I have made note and figured out how to avoid them in the future. But every time I come upon a tricky spot, I pause and assess the situation. Is it worth tackling? Should I backtrack and cross the street to avoid it? What's the safest way? When you're on wheels, you gotta be hyper-aware of your surroundings and mindful of the gaps. 

Another kind of gap I've learned to look out for is in my caregiving schedule. I mentioned before that I created a spreadsheet that the care team has access to and can fill in their availability week by week. I think this is a really good system that works most of the time. But managing my care is a full-time job, and occasionally I'll notice that an imminent shift isn't filled, and I get anxious, because every shift is really important to my physical health. If a daytime shift doesn't get filled, then I don't have a way to use the bathroom or get food out to eat. If a nighttime shift doesn't get filled, I can't lay down to sleep. These little gaps on the spreadsheet remind me how dependent I am on others. So far, God has provided for every spot on the spreadsheet, though occasionally it is a very last-minute thing that is a sacrifice for someone on the team. No one complains at all, but I do feel the stress of asking my friends to inconvenience themselves for my sake. 

There are other kinds of gaps, too. When I know I'll be alone for a few hours, I have to assess my space: is everything I need within reach? What precautions do I need to take to be sure not to drop things? Am I in a comfortable and stable sitting posture so I don't lose my balance or strain my muscles or exhaust my energy in the next few hours? Sometimes these questions and concerns feel very heavy. 

Before I moved this summer, a friend of mine asked me what my greatest fear was, and I told her I was afraid I would fail. What if this experiment flops and I have to leave, defeated? Some days it feels like I can't do it, because there are too many variables, too many gaps to mind, and it is exhausting. I wish it were easier and more comfortable. But I know the best things in life are challenging, because they remind me of how much I need Jesus... and how much he takes care of me. He fills and bridges every gap, and I keep learning that the very best thing I can do is trust him and keep moving forward with joy and hope.