legs.

i hear his wife in the background
her voice fierce, protective.
i imagine him,
slumped half in his hospital bed
with a gown nowhere near 
modest enough
the strings haphazardly tied
around his neck.
he is speaking to me on the phone
and only just yesterday
he had both of his legs surgically removed.
it has been done.
swift, purposeful, final.
his speech a little slurred
and thick like syrup,
i concentrate hard, trying to isolate out
what he is saying:
i know God will use this 
for His glory, 
and i do feel a deep Peace, 
he is able to say.
that can only be 
Christ in Him,
given that the next few months and beyond
are going to be incredibly tough.
he doesn't get to
just go home after this.
he will spend the next few weeks in rehab
learning to be a man with no legs.
those very legs that at one time took him miles and miles
strong and steady
on his mountain bike.
legs that took him across the sweeping
footpaths of France.
those same legs that
leapt across the courts,
waltzing all the way to the
basketball hoop.
those legs stood before crowds
preaching the Gospel.
those very same legs.
walked him and his beautiful bride
down the aisle
they are no more.
this is a deep loss.
there is a sadness that lingers 
heavy,
a mourning
that i hear in him.
there is this mountain that 
looms before him 
and though he knows he can 
move it, 
it is still a mountain. 
just hours surrounding his surgery,
his daughter had to 
glimpse her dad, 
her hero,
on a gurney, his lips purple,
his body battered and crumpled, 
and it nearly wrecked 
her tender teenage heart. 
this surgery,
this loss of legs is not reserved
just for him,
but for the entire family.
his wife.
loyal, steadfast. forever unwavering.
his 3 beautiful children.
this wound, 
this laceration,
it affects them all.
he mentions that he had a band of brothers
rallying around him
just hours before the surgery.
they were 
comrades in arms 
to him,
sending him into a battle
that they all knew would come at a 
high and hefty price. 
their brother, Joshua, 
their fellow warrior 
might come out without his legs 
but he would come out alive. 
it meant much to him 
to be lifted up, 
to be linked up in arms
and sent into battle covered in prayer. 
we all have been praying. 
we all continue to do so.
here is yet another opportunity for us to
get on our knees 
on  behalf of a man who no longer can,
at least not physically 
and place him before the throne. 
right here, right now, 
is an opportunity for us to 
witness God's 
infinite glory 
as we surround the Buck family. 
make no mistake, 
where the Buck family is, 
where their suffering lies, 
where the loss of legs and limbs is very real 
and raw, 
we know God is in this. 
we know God is here in our midst. 
Josh and Shelly, 
they are His beloved. 
may we be hands and feet 
where there no longer are 
none.