Beloved
In high school, I marched in the band and was a member of the color guard. I still have vivid memories of those years and the countless hours of work that went into each show we performed.
One October, we were at a local competition and found ourselves facing unseasonably cold weather. Our color guard costumes were meant to be billowy and colorful on the field, so they were made of very lightweight fabric that did not provide any warmth. We were bundled up in coats and blankets every minute we weren’t on the field marching.
At these events, there was always a preliminary round of competition, held earlier in the day, and then a final round, held at night, to determine the winner.
We were the last band to perform that night. Everyone at the event had been freezing all day, but as we walked onto the field for that final performance, energy surged through the air. It had started snowing at some point, and the atmosphere was magical.
The field itself, however, was not magical. It had been marched on over and over all day - in the cold and the drizzle - leaving divots and icy patches everywhere.
I remember our band director telling us to go out there and leave it all on the field. It would be cold and uncomfortable, but we had a chance to win.
During that performance, I stepped into a hole. And I fell hard.
But there was no stopping. I had to get up and keep moving. I could not be the weak link.
In the adrenaline of the moment, and with the spryness that is only appreciated when we look back on our youth, I bounded back up to my feet and kept moving as if nothing had ever happened. I was on the ground for a split second.
The people around me saw what happened. And my mom tells me she noticed when I went missing and when I reappeared, but other than them, I’m not really sure anyone else ever knew what happened.
No one was going to stop because I fell into a hole. The show must go on.
We finished performing, and then moments later, we reentered the field to hear the final scores announced.
We had won!
I was 14 years old at the time. It did not occur to me that the fall that night would be an issue years later. I shook it off and moved on.
But, four years later, as a college freshman, I found myself having arthroscopic surgery on my knee over Christmas break. There was damage that had been done to my knee during that fall, but we couldn’t see it at the time.
Last December, I had an MRI on that same knee because it had been in a lot of pain. Those results showed arthritis in my knee - the effects of an old injury.
This past Friday, I found myself in my doctor's office to address some very intense, very unexpected swelling in the same knee.
The pain this weekend was so intense I couldn’t do anything but stop. I could barely walk. At more than one point, I just sat down and cried.
I couldn’t push through. I couldn’t take one for the team. I couldn’t just keep going. And that didn’t make me a weak link; it just made me human.
That message to leave it all on the field has been woven into my formation.
As a 14-year-old girl, it made sense that I would jump up from a fall and keep going. Nothing was broken, and the adrenaline from performing for thousands of spectators kept me moving.
But, there is a part of that message that has driven me my whole life.
Work harder.
Don’t be late.
Perfection matters.
Keep going.
Don’t let the team down.
And it isn’t even that those things are bad; it is just that they are incomplete.
As I sat this weekend, resting my knee, I was reminded of other lessons I’ve learned along the way.
Slow down.
Rest.
Breathe deeply.
Relax.
You don’t have to carry it all.
Jesus is near.
And I felt so thankful that somewhere along the way, God started to unravel the narrative that said I needed to be perfect and began shaping a new narrative to help me know that I am deeply loved - not because of how much I can accomplish or how perfectly I can live, but because I am his daughter.
I wonder what narratives Jesus has been helping you rewrite in your story?
~ Melissa