MY MOST "HATED" BODY PART

Back in high school, I took a modern dance class. My dance teacher taught in both high schools in my town, so we had a combined recital. At the recital, I recall being very nervous because this was my first public “debut”. Backstage in the dressing room, a student from the other high school who was also performing came up to me and she asked if my arms were part of my costume. I did not understand the question so I looked at her dumbfounded so she asked again, and I finally understood, she wanted to know if the scars on my arms were “gloves” (yes, she said gloves) and if they were part of the dance custom I was wearing. I don’t remember what I said back to her but I am pretty sure I replied rudely and she apologized. However, I went over and told my classmates and they got upset for me. As they were fuming, ready to tell her off, I remember not only feeling bad because I made her comment a big deal but I became self aware of the fact that I had created a safe bubble around my dance classmates. I was comfortable enough in my skin with them so I had all but forgotten that I looked different but now, among strangers, I felt very exposed, I felt like everyone was looking and wondering. I looked down at my arms, looking at the scars, thinking how ugly they were, I loathed them even more at that moment.
10 years ago when I came to Shriners hospital to begin this journey of reconstruction, my mom, aunt and myself sat in with my care-coordinator and doctor and they discussed which procedures they were able to perform. They told us that we were going to focus on my face, and at that time, there was nothing they could do about my arms. We accepted. I accepted, however I felt sad and disappointed. On one hand, I was excited about what was to come but I also felt like I had to give up hope on ever doing anything to “fix” for a lack of a better word my arms even though I desperately wanted to. Fast-forward to my last doctors’ appointment, I was asked which procedures I would like to do next…I thought to myself, I had options? We had only focused on my face for the last 10 years, what else is there to do? She looked at me and told me to pick the top 5 things I would like done and said I could discuss this with my surgeon when he came in. I had two people with me and I looked at them, dumbfounded, willing them to give me answers because I did not know what to think, and also what it would mean. I did not want to get my hopes up or my mom’s hopes up if I told her. I also thought to myself, do I want to continue this journey again for the next few years? 17 years of being in and out of the hospital is emotionally and physically draining. Could I still do this? They told me to speak up and list what I wanted. So I did, nerves, doubts and all, I spoke up. As I write this, in about a month, I will be having some surgery done on my arms, well we’ll start with one arm! I am feeling a mix of emotions about starting this new phase. It’s scary and I am nervous. What if it doesn't change anything? What if I am left with the same results? How will this affect my job? All of these decisions rest on my shoulder. No mom, no aunt, just me.
Making this decision is more personal to me than any of the decisions that have been made on my behalf over the years. This is something that could really break my heart if I don't see a difference. It is still very raw...it's a desire that I have held on to and suppressed for such a long time and the idea that I might go through another painful process that might or might not have a successful outcome terrifies the hell out of me. As I currently prepare...it's more of a mental preparation, I look back realizing that for the longest time, I thought God flatly did not want this to happen. I felt that he was not answering my prayers so I used this as a point of contention. I used it to keep me from trusting and believing that he could do the impossible even though me being alive is the impossible. I put God in a box. Getting my arms "fixed" could sound like a seemingly vain request but I have lived with them, looking at the scars with hate because I just do not find the beauty in them and in addition to that, I thought God was trying to teach me a "lesson".
Letting go and waiting for God's timing is not the easiest thing for me to do. It is something I struggle with daily and with this new season, I now truly understand that I need to let go when God tells me to let go just because his timing is the best. I struggle, asking myself daily if I really want to do this surgery. Why can’t I just leave it the way it is instead of taking the chance? But then I remember this sentence from Sarah Young’s Jesus Calling, “Then, ask me to give you awareness of My Presence. This is a prayer that I delight to answer.” When those moments of doubt creep in, when it seems like you are drowning in doubt and pain, I am learning to call on God, asking him to help remind me of his presence. I would have never thought that I would been having surgery on my arms because I thought God must have forgotten, however, 17 years later, the door is opened wide!

-    Abiola