At twenty-two, my oldest daughter, Kimberly, suffered a rare complication of Juvenile Diabetes, and a muscle in her left leg had to be removed. It left one leg shorter than the other and caused her to walk with a limp for the rest of her life.
But that limp didn’t slow her down much. She continued to live with gusto for ten more years. She even succeeded as a waitress in a busy restaurant.
Other set-backs, the amputation of two toes in two years, forced her to slow down, but she plugged along, doing well. “Best server on floor,” she bragged.
Continued trouble with infection caused her to lose the last three toes on her foot. The podiatrist seemed sure this would stop some of the problems, and Kim would finally be free of the round of infections that claimed little pieces of her.
He was wrong.
Ten days after those toes were amputated, my phone rang at 3:30 a.m. The call no parent ever expects. Or wants. Kimberly Joy passed away.
I was not prepared for the death of my daughter. It shocked me. Left me reeling. I wasn’t prepared for grief either. Not sure how to move forward, I felt like a piece of me was missing. And I knew I could never get it back.
Soon after Kim passed away, I got a card from someone whose adult son had died several years before. “When you have a child, your life changes forever,” she wrote, “and when you lose a child, it changes forever too. You will learn to walk again, but always with a limp.“
She was right. I will always walk with a limp. My life will never be the same without Kim. Almost seven years after she died, I still think of her and miss her every day.
Learning to Walk with a Limp
It’s taken years for me to learn to walk with my limp. Kim leaned on her cane; I lean on God. You may see me with a both smile and tears streaming down my face while I sing about the hope I have in Christ. I know I will be in heaven someday. Rejoicing. Casting crowns at the feet of Jesus. And I am filled with joy knowing Kim is already there.
Leaning on God allowed Him to change me into the woman He intends me to be. Kinder, more compassionate, patient. I understand why people need time–often a lot of time–to grieve or adjust to any unwanted or unexpected situation. I can listen to hear what someone has to say instead of to respond with my own agenda.
I used to be more task-driven. Now I know the value of relationships. Those years God gave me in the hospital with my daughter, are precious treasures. I try to cultivate relationships ahead of my to-do list more often.
I will always walk with a limp. But my steps are joyful. God is right beside me, holding me up with His love.
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I can’t imagine the depth of your loss. What we survive and thrive through, although with the scars or the limp remaining, testifies to God’s presence in us and with us.
Elizabeth, yes, our scars are reminders of how God loves us and works in all things for good. They testify to the power of His presence and care because they show healing and change.
Thank you for this beautiful message. My sister and brother-in-law lost their 5 year old son to drowning many, many years ago, this month(June). Your message is very needed at this time.
Melissa, I am sorry for your loss. May I recommend you send a card every year to your sister and brother-in-law. Just a simple “I’m thinking of you,” brings comfort on our child’s “heaven day.” Blessings to you and your family.
Chosen to bear great sorrow… these life stories always leave me wordless and breathless. God bless you, my Consilium sister. (((xo)))
Sorrow, yes, but tied up with joy. Joy knowing Kimberly has no more pain. Joy knowing she is whole and praising God all the time. Joy knowing someday, we will meet again.
Debbie. I am so sorry for your loss. I can only imagine the depth. My sister’s three year old son drowned. It took me hours to get to her, but when I got there I held her for hours too. We slept fitfully in the same bed. She had no husband, my mother had passed and I was her lifeline. The depth of the pain was in a place I could not reach. My prayers were then only way she could be reached. He knows those inward places of the soul and heals the heart no one can heal. I’m glad to see He’s taken His time with you. He’s so wonderful. Thank you for sharing your heart with us. It. Is. Beautiful!
Oh, Chris, you don’t know how much just your presence helped your sister. There are no words, but prayer permeates our hearts and helps the healing begin.
This is beautiful! Thank you so much for sharing this with us all. “I will always walk with a limp. But my steps are joyful. God is right beside me, holding me up with His love.” God never leaves us but is always there. Blessings to you!
God is faithful. He is ever-present. Even when I didn’t know how to move forward, He was there, shining the light of His love.
Incredible.
Words from the old hymn came to mind as I read: “Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarms.”
What a great God we have, and your faith-filled response to the most catastrophic loss imaginable for a parent shows off God’s power and grandeur.
One of my favorite hymns! And leaning was all I could do for a very long time.
Oh Debbie….bless your precious heart. What a beautiful girl. Her smile is exuberant on that photo………and is in heaven. Still I cannot fathom your sense of loss here. Death was never meant to be. Please know I am praying for God’s comfort for you. We never really stop missing and thinking about those who have gone on to be w/ the Lord before us. Yes, we miss them every, single day. What a generous thing that you would share your deepest heart with us. Every, single one of us walks with a limp of one sort or another, and we are to help hold each other up in love and prayer. You are doing that right now, and I can’t imagine all those these beautiful post will strengthen. Thank you for your love, compassion, and vulnerability in sharing. I’m thinking that Kimberly is very, very proud of you.
Love
Lynn
Thank you, Lynn. Kimberly did have a beautiful smile. She could make me laugh like no one else. Thank you for your kind words and encouragement.
Thank You For allowing others to limp along with you
David, praying you feel God’s presence and comfort as you walk with him.
Although I have not lost a child to death, I have lost a child to addiction. Lost are those hopes and dreams I had for that child. But God always makes sure I have comfort and hope. I guess there is more than one cause for a limp…
Oh, Pat, my heart aches for you. I pray God provides peace that passes all understanding as you lean on Him. Grief is not limited to the physical death of our loved ones. And watching our children suffer is one of the deepest sorrows. Thank you for sharing; your faith shines through.
Oh Debbie! I can’t imagine the pain you must feel over the loss of your child and I am so sorry. What a beautiful picture of the two of you. It is so hard to understand the “Why?” in this isn’t it? But please know that in the telling of your story you are touching the lives of many. God bless you dear lady <3
Patti
Thank you, Patricia. I rest assured, always, that God is loving and good. His plan and His ways are beyond my comprehension, but I trust Him always.
Debbie, thank you for your sharing your heart. My sister lost her daughter, Samantha, four years ago. She was 23 years old. Like your Kimberly Joy, Sam taught us so much. Last week on vacation I thanked my sister for modeling playfulness and for reminding me to seize adventure in life. She continues to amaze me. She said that she is just beginning to feel like herself, again. Forever will never be the same. I feel your love. I feel your loss. I feel your joy and your faith. Thank you sweet sister for your strength and courage to limp on and linger in relationships. You are a gift from God.
Thank you, Robin. Yes, you do start to feel more like “yourself” after four years, but never the same. The changes God makes are for my good and His glory. And it is His grace, mercy, and love that allow me, and all who grieve, to continue. Because, really, all I need is Christ. Those He chooses to bless me with are gifts to treasure. It is often through His people, like you, who He uses to comfort and remind me of His constant presence. You, too, are a gift from Him to me. Blessings to you and your sister and her family.