Everyone’s had one—that awkward third wheel who somehow ends up in the middle of everything. Maybe it’s your coworker who insists on tagging along to lunch, or the weird piece of furniture in your living room that you keep stubbing your toe on. For me, that third wheel is my right leg, affectionately dubbed “Robo Leg” by my niece.

Steve (yes, I named my leg) showed up uninvited after April 25, 2024, and hasn’t left since. That was the day I had back surgery, and let’s just say things didn’t go quite as planned. What I thought would been a straightforward procedure turned into weeks of complications, leaving me with little function and even less feeling in my right leg.

I went from running 5Ks and training for half-marathons to becoming the slowest moving object in Arkansas. Picture a tortoise, but with a walker and a bad attitude. As it turns out, I have the patience of a gnat, and I carry way too many things for someone who only has two functioning hands that now accompanied by a walker.

Steve’s been a loyal companion, though—always there, reminding me of my limitations and forcing me to confront the uncomfortable truth that I can’t fix everything myself. And while Steve’s not my favorite, I’m learning to live with him.

Lessons From Another Unwelcome Guest

Steve reminds me of a certain someone in the Bible: Paul’s “thorn in the flesh.” Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 12:7-9, “So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh… Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’”

While we don’t know exactly what Paul’s thorn was, I’d bet he wasn’t thrilled about it. Just like Steve, it was the kind of thing that sticks around, throws a wrench in your plans, and makes you question why. But instead of letting it drag him down, Paul embraced it. He realized that his thorn wasn’t there to punish him but to remind him of his dependence on God.

I think about that a lot when I look at Steve. Okay, fine, I mostly think about how much I’d love for him to pack up and leave. But on the good days, I can admit that Steve has taught me something invaluable: God’s strength really does shine brightest when we’re at our weakest.

What’s Your Steve?

Maybe your Steve isn’t a leg. Maybe it’s a tough relationship, a job that drains you, or an ongoing battle with health issues. Whatever it is, it probably feels like it’s overstayed its welcome. But what if, instead of fighting it, you asked God what He wants to teach you through it?

I think about the story of Jacob wrestling with God in Genesis 32. Jacob literally wrestled all night long, refusing to let go until he received a blessing. At the end of the night, Jacob walked away with a limp—but also with a new name and a new purpose.

I’m not saying I want to wrestle with Steve (pretty sure he’d win), but I’m learning that sometimes the things we fight against the hardest are the very things that shape us into who God wants us to be.

Living With Steve

Right now, I don’t know how long Steve will be sticking around. The doctors and therapists are working hard to figure it out, and I have faith that answers will come. Until then, I’m learning to lean on the people around me, laugh at myself (and at Steve), and trust that God’s grace is enough to get me through—one slow, awkward step at a time.

So, what’s your Steve? The thing that lingers, sneaks up on you, and refuses to leave? Whatever it is, I hope you know you’re not alone. And I hope you can find a way to laugh at it, learn from it, and trust that God will use it for something good.

Because if there’s one thing Steve’s taught me, it’s this: even in the struggle, there’s grace.