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English:
I sat in a small room confidently rattling off answers when suddenly... a road block went up.
"Repeat back to me as many words as you can from the list I just read to you."
I shifted nervously. I looked at the ceiling, out the window, the face of the examiner but nothing helped me. I opened my mouth and then shut it. I hesitantly said a word. Then I thought for a bit longer and said another one. I looked at the floor. I looked at the wall. Then I finally said another one. Oh! There was another one but I stopped short. No, that wasnt another one. That was the first one that I said. I looked and looked but I could not find those words anywhere! Hmm...
We tried again. I tried to concentrate. I fixed on the second word and kept saying it to myself.
"Repeat back to me as many words as you can from the list I just read to you."
Confidently I repeated the first word but as I reached for the second word, it slipped from my grasp leaving no clues behind. This went on and on. I got more words over time but I never did get that second word. Sigh...
We tried something else. I was successful. I successfully did the next couple of activities as well. Then a piece of paper was placed before me which was folded into four sections.
"Draw as much as you can remember of the four pictures I had you draw a little while ago?"
Panic rose up within me. What pictures?
I stared at the psychologist with pleading eyes. "I dont remember doing that." I whispered. He gave me a prompt. "Do you remember?" I shook my head. The prompt meant nothing. He gave me a second and third clue. Nothing. Ive tried to remember since then but I dont even drawing anything except earlier that day in the office of another doctor and hed had shown me six pictures, not four. Sigh...
A sheet of paper was placed before me.
"Circle the words you heard me say a little bit ago."
Hm... those were the words my brain had lost... or had it? Without hesitation I promptly circled about 10 words.
It is no secret that my brain is not perfect. Considering the trauma and injury it has endured, it works amazingly well but it is not perfect.
After more than four hours of testing I went out to the lobby to meet my husband.
"I have news for you," I said. "Im not perfect. Im defective."
He looked at me and shrugged. "Oh well, I still love you anyway."
I fall flat on my face more times than what I care to count and I suppose, according to some people, that means I am not Christian. Perhaps they are right.
I only know the hand that has dried my tears, gently picked me up, dusted me off and set my feet upon the path again. I only know the arms which have lovingly embraced me, the presence that rips through the darkness and the voice which sweetly breathed upon me when nothing else could reach me and said, "I am with you." When I am weak, He is my strength. When I am afraid, He is my comforter. When I am filled with sorrow, He brings me joy. I could say so much more but you get the idea, I think.
Im not perfect... but I am still loved. How do I know this? Because God has not only told me of His love for me through His Word; He has demonstrated His love to me over and over and over again and has let me know I belong to Him. No one, no one will ever convince me otherwise.
Blessings!
K
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