I’ve been thinking a lot lately about expectations—especially the quiet ones we don’t always realize we’re carrying.
This week, as I prepared for an appointment with my doctor, I found myself anxious, not just about the results, but about how he would perceive my progress. I realized I was trying—maybe unconsciously—to meet an invisible standard. A version of “healing” I had built in my mind.
Part of that vision came from something he once said about a potential surgery—a procedure where a balloon would be inserted to reduce swelling. I’d tucked that away as a future goal, something to work toward. Without knowing it, I started seeing that procedure as my ultimate destination, the marker of when I’d finally “get better.”
But recently, I came across videos of other women living with lymphedema—strong, beautiful women, many of whom had made progress, yet still looked different than they used to. And it struck me: healing doesn’t always mean returning to what was. Sometimes healing means making peace with what is, and embracing the grace of what can still be.
Even if my legs never look the way they once did… I’m still here. I’m still moving. I’m still worshiping.
And more than that—I’m not failing. I’m faithfully healing, in the way that God defines it.
So to the one who’s quietly judging your progress or waiting for a perfect finish line: You haven’t missed it. You are allowed to heal on your own timeline. And sometimes, healing looks like releasing the pressure to perform.
God is still writing your story. And your healing is still holy.
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Reflection Prompt:
Where have I placed unrealistic expectations on myself? What would it look like to surrender them to God today?
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