Catching Up

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First things first: Grace in Ungracious Places, my latest book, is available. You can locate your copy here.

This is the first book in a grace trilogy. Books two and three, The Pursuit of Grace and Growing in Grace, will be available shortly.

Grace in Ungracious Places dares you to grasp a grace that is about God loving you—not a little, but outrageously, against all odds, despite all rebuffs, and in all circumstances. God’s greatest hope is that you will love Him in return.

I hope you enjoy this book.

If this is the case, as you know by now, I am reliant upon you helping others know of this book’s existence. While I am once again able to reliably deliver my articles to you, I am unable to trend in the marketplace due to the ongoing censorship of my work. In plain words: I can’t market this book. Only you can do this. If you read and are encouraged, please tell others. Thank you in advance.

Second: Six years ago, I had both of my arthritic knees replaced. While the surgeries transformed me from crippled to mobile, my new knees have hurt 24-7 for those six years.

As it turns out, it appears my knee surgeon had a drug problem. His story is a tragic tale. After he disappeared from his medical practice not long after he performed my surgeries, about a year ago he ended his life.

While I knew something was wrong inside my knees, I decided to live with the pain rather than endure knee revision surgery. This was a workable plan—until it wasn’t.

Three weeks ago, my new surgeon revised the prosthetic in my left leg. As suspected, the prosthetic knee was not installed properly, resulting in a sloppy, wobbly knee that created the chronic pain of the last six years. While the surgery was extensive and necessitated a lot of soft tissue clean up, the repair to stabilize my left knee was straightforward.

Rehab has been more challenging than I anticipated, but I’m making progress. As you can imagine, I have a lot of folks assisting me in my recovery, not the least of which is the brown-eyed girl, my wife Dianne.

The right knee will be revised and repaired in a few weeks. The surgeon anticipates similar findings and a similar procedure to repair that knee. After that, it’s time to sign up for the Cowtown Marathon (smile).

I apologize that my articles have been sporadic, but this sorrow is considerably less than the sorrow I would have, and the suffering you would experience, if I wrote to you while under the influence of pain medicine. Seriously, as I come to mind, I would value your prayers please.

This recovery is lengthy. In six months, my knees will be 75%. In a year, they will be 100%. In two years, they will be as good as they are going to be. I’m hopeful and grateful.

When it doesn’t hurt so badly to sit at my keyboard, I want to write about forgiveness and the safeguards I’ve used to defend myself against bitterness. While you may not have a medical malpractice issue to sort out, it is tough to get through life without being wronged, without bitterness settling into your soul, and without compromise to your wellbeing at the hands of another.

What on earth was my first surgeon thinking when he decided to cut me open while high on drugs? What was his surgical staff doing while he was wielding his knife in a compromised state of brain and mind? How do you forgive a dead man? How do you manage having about eight years of vitality taken from you by a medical professional who made selfish, poor decisions? What does it look like to demonstrate the life of Christ in an unjust situation?

So, stand by. Sitting is a nightmare activity at this time. As it turns out, the knee bone is connected to the hamstring, that’s connected to the gluteus maximus. More soon.

In the meantime, thank you for adding me to your discussions with Father God.

Don’t forget to check out Grace in Ungracious Places—and thank you for passing the word when you have an opportunity.

Oh, and fair warning: Once the other knee is fixed, my legs are going to be a bit longer. I’ll be doing a fund-raising campaign, or organizing a Go Fund Me, to collect money for new pants with a longer inseam (smile). Even drugstore cowboys (like me) can’t wear highwater pants with their boots.