surrendering to God

By: Sherri Gragg Six days before Easter morning, I found myself lying at the bottom of a flight of stairs, pondering the efficiency of gravity. One minute, I was making my way down the narrow staircase of a 200-year-old log cabin on a friend’s farm. The next, I was sprawled across the hardwood floors, clutching my knee in agony. As two of my teens helped me stand, everything in me was already raging. Raging against gravity. Raging against socks on stairs. Raging against my aging body. Raging against all the things I wouldn’t be able to do with an injured knee. Raging against looming doctors’ appointments and hours spent in physical therapy. While I was at it, even though it was completely irrelevant, I raged against menopause too. Because if anything deserves rage, it is menopause. For the...