Day 3
The journey's next stop was boxing.
Well, sort of. It was my first venture into Rock Steady boxing. John and I were going there, "just to watch". After which, I would be tested and placed into a group. Sitting there was an odd feeling. It was like a psychological game had been set up, a training ground fashioned according to His wisdom. Of course, I knew that my Father would win. But winning wasn't the point. It was all about the game. In this setting, the game was, would I accept the challenge or try to avoid it?
As we sat watching, I wondered, "How is it possible that I am going to be working out with old people. I mean, really. I'm not old, am I?”
An angel said, "Amen."
I wanted to curl up in the comfort of denial. I buried two hands inside their own pockets, fisting them lest their dance increased. I hid the evidence. They fidgeted, seeking release. Yes, I might not be as old as these fighters were, but I was just like them. Each of us uniquely carried a personalized brand of Parkinson's. But not one of them hid a hand.
"Acceptance is beautiful."
There was an eagerness filling the atmosphere. These people were much more than some old folks who got together for some socializing. These men and women were determined, as determined as I was to lift that bar. Perhaps more-so. They were fighting against the progress of a disease with every blow against the punching bag. They fought with their voices, denying the entry of hideous silence that threatened to take their voices. They seemed to understand the identity of Parkinson's. I imagined one man saying, "And? What else have you got? We're bigger than you think! Watch and see."
These people stood over Parkinson's.
I watched. I contemplated. I was changing.
By the time I had finished taking the placement test, I was realizing God's words within myself. I could feel them growing, spreading within me. I came into agreement with God. I would become the manifested truth of His declaration. I named myself, bringing out of the supernal realm hidden deep within me, determined to manifest into the world a different view of this child of God.
"I am tough! I am mighty!"
Long ago, when I was barely eighteen, after a morning Bible study, an older friend said to me, “Might makes right”. I wasn’t sure why Fran had said this. It lacked context. She smiled and said, “Just remember. Sometimes might is right.” Had she glimpsed my future?
Honestly, I am astonished at how quickly things are changing. I had a decent workout. But it was different. You see, before I begin exercising, John does a warmup with me. You know, the normal stuff that loosens up muscles, joints and gets the spinal fluid flowing. At one point, we did some balancing practice. I did this quite well. Surprising, as I really struggled with balance on the Rock Steady entrance test. If that was the end of my workout, I could say it went very well. But the fact is, this body is changing.
We were on the floor, on all fours. For the first time, one hand was tremoring even while there was pressure on it. Then, when I got up, it felt as though the entire body wanted to do a jig. It was like, a flourish of movement wanted to slip up my arm and infuse every muscle of the body with vigor.
I found it rather humorous. I decided to go along with it and simply played. If the body wanted to jiggle and dance and sway, okay. I'm all in. I can be a clown. I giggled and jiggled to the music playing in the gym.
In fact, it felt so good I think I may give into the tremors more often. Who knows. Maybe this could be fun!
Well, sort of. It was my first venture into Rock Steady boxing. John and I were going there, "just to watch". After which, I would be tested and placed into a group. Sitting there was an odd feeling. It was like a psychological game had been set up, a training ground fashioned according to His wisdom. Of course, I knew that my Father would win. But winning wasn't the point. It was all about the game. In this setting, the game was, would I accept the challenge or try to avoid it?
As we sat watching, I wondered, "How is it possible that I am going to be working out with old people. I mean, really. I'm not old, am I?”
An angel said, "Amen."
I wanted to curl up in the comfort of denial. I buried two hands inside their own pockets, fisting them lest their dance increased. I hid the evidence. They fidgeted, seeking release. Yes, I might not be as old as these fighters were, but I was just like them. Each of us uniquely carried a personalized brand of Parkinson's. But not one of them hid a hand.
"Acceptance is beautiful."
There was an eagerness filling the atmosphere. These people were much more than some old folks who got together for some socializing. These men and women were determined, as determined as I was to lift that bar. Perhaps more-so. They were fighting against the progress of a disease with every blow against the punching bag. They fought with their voices, denying the entry of hideous silence that threatened to take their voices. They seemed to understand the identity of Parkinson's. I imagined one man saying, "And? What else have you got? We're bigger than you think! Watch and see."
These people stood over Parkinson's.
I watched. I contemplated. I was changing.
By the time I had finished taking the placement test, I was realizing God's words within myself. I could feel them growing, spreading within me. I came into agreement with God. I would become the manifested truth of His declaration. I named myself, bringing out of the supernal realm hidden deep within me, determined to manifest into the world a different view of this child of God.
"I am tough! I am mighty!"
Long ago, when I was barely eighteen, after a morning Bible study, an older friend said to me, “Might makes right”. I wasn’t sure why Fran had said this. It lacked context. She smiled and said, “Just remember. Sometimes might is right.” Had she glimpsed my future?
Honestly, I am astonished at how quickly things are changing. I had a decent workout. But it was different. You see, before I begin exercising, John does a warmup with me. You know, the normal stuff that loosens up muscles, joints and gets the spinal fluid flowing. At one point, we did some balancing practice. I did this quite well. Surprising, as I really struggled with balance on the Rock Steady entrance test. If that was the end of my workout, I could say it went very well. But the fact is, this body is changing.
We were on the floor, on all fours. For the first time, one hand was tremoring even while there was pressure on it. Then, when I got up, it felt as though the entire body wanted to do a jig. It was like, a flourish of movement wanted to slip up my arm and infuse every muscle of the body with vigor.
I found it rather humorous. I decided to go along with it and simply played. If the body wanted to jiggle and dance and sway, okay. I'm all in. I can be a clown. I giggled and jiggled to the music playing in the gym.
In fact, it felt so good I think I may give into the tremors more often. Who knows. Maybe this could be fun!