10 Days and Counting: Day 40-50 – The Vessel in the Back Room - My Bell’s Palsy Journey of Recovery
Sometimes in life, you may feel like a vessel kept in the back room. Not because you lack value, but because the work of shaping, restoring, and strengthening is still ongoing.
This week, my journey with Bell’s palsy has felt very much like that. Each day has reminded me that healing—physical, emotional, and spiritual—requires patience, surrender, and trust in the process.
Recognizing the Back Room
Today, my eyes were uncomfortable, my cheek slightly swollen, but less than yesterday. Small progress.
My son took me to Home Depot for a refrigerator filter—a simple task, yet a reminder that even routine errands feel different when you are “in the back room.”
I called one of my team members for help with our project undertaking. She didn’t realize how sick I had been until she saw the photos. I am learning that being in the back room often means allowing others to serve you for a while. I’m usually the one offering support.
But this season is teaching me something important. Sometimes being in the back room means allowing others to step forward and serve you for a while. It means accepting that strength doesn’t always look like doing everything yourself. Sometimes strength looks like humility—letting people care for you while God continues the work He is doing within you.
And perhaps that, too, is part of being ready.
The Weight of Rest
Today, I received the hard news that one of our Pastors passed away. Life is hard, and death is even harder, but I am consoled that God reigns over both. My heart went out to the family of this beloved soul.
I tried to keep up with everything, but my body reminded me that healing requires rest. My eye hurt, my ear ached, and fatigue weighed on me.
Being in the back room sometimes means stepping aside—canceling counseling sessions, postponing ministry assignments, and leaving the mundane tasks of home unfinished. It’s uncomfortable, but necessary.
Experiencing God’s Presence
Returning to church today was a profound reminder of why rest is important. Sitting there, fully immersed in worship, I wept at the sheer grace of God.
Even with my eyes sensitive to light, even with no makeup, even with visible weakness, people still saw beauty.
Being in the back room does not erase our worth—it sometimes allows us to experience God’s love more deeply than when we are busy on the front display of life.
Strength in Vulnerability
At midnight today, a nudge from the Holy Spirit led me to check my DeVry portal. My professor had graded me 0/100, and I needed to resubmit.
Exhausted and overwhelmed, I prayed. God gave me the clarity and patience to revise my work and submit it.
The vessel in the back room often receives instructions, guidance, and shaping when no one else is watching. Strength is built quietly, in obedience and perseverance.
Signs of Progress
Today, my therapist, Leah Segelov, brought encouraging news. My full facial expressions have returned. The exercises for facial movement are complete; now the focus is on concentration exercises for the jaw and eye.
Pain persists—ear muscles, dry eyes—but each day, the vessel becomes stronger, more resilient, more whole.
Even the back-room vessel is progressing toward readiness.
Learning Patience
My son and I ran errands. We spoke about professional boundaries—how sacrifice often goes unnoticed until opportunity arises.
The vessel in the back room reminds us that recognition is not the measure of growth. Sometimes we shape, prepare, and strengthen silently, trusting that the work is meaningful even if invisible.
Joy in Small Things
Today, Mom, my sister-in-law, and I took Angel, our puppy, for a walk. The park rules forbade dogs, so I tucked her into her bag. She ran, scampered, and eventually returned—reminding me that life, even in the back room, holds moments of joy and laughter.
My niece-in-law treated me to a foot spa, and my daughter helped me rest. Small acts of care are part of the shaping process—even the vessel in the back room is nurtured and tended.
Inspiration from the Faithful
We watched a trailer from Angel Studios with Phil Wickham and Brandon Lake. One line stood out:
“We don’t want to be strong—we just want to get out of the way.”
The vessel in the back room doesn’t need to pretend strength. You show up in God’s strength, allowing Him to work through you. You don’t need to be perfect—you only need to desire His perfection.
Later, we watched Togo, the story of the sled dog and Seppala. Togo’s courage, loyalty, and perseverance mirrored the back room vessel: faithfulness and strength often go unseen, yet the work done in quiet leads to life-saving impact.
Reflections – The Vessel in the Back Room
Babes and I reflected on the image of the hidden vessel:
In a pottery shop, some vessels are displayed—polished, smooth, and ready to be chosen. Others are kept in the back room. Not because they lack value, but because they require more time, patience, and care.
When clay is imperfect, the potter reshapes it. When fatigue sets in, the potter encourages patience. When healing is slow, the potter quietly strengthens it, shaping it into something remarkable.
During my Bell’s palsy journey, I often feel like that vessel. Pulled away from the front display, unable to serve as I once did, relying on others, and resting more than working.
But I’ve learned something important:
Being in the back room doesn’t mean being forgotten. Sometimes it simply means the work isn’t finished yet.
The Smile Again Project reminds me that healing is a process. Like clay in the hands of the potter, you are being shaped, strengthened, and restored.
Perhaps this season is not a setback but a selection.
The Potter sometimes sets aside certain vessels—not to forget them, but to work on them more carefully.
The shaping may take longer, the process may feel hidden, but the purpose is greater.
And one day, when the time is right, the vessel will be brought out—
marked by the hands that never stopped working on it.
The Chosen Vessel.
Your Turn 💬
Have you ever felt like the vessel in the back room—set aside for a season while life continues on around you?
Maybe you’ve had to step back from responsibilities, slow down because of illness, or pause a dream that once moved quickly. Perhaps you’ve had to learn the difficult lesson of asking for help or allowing others to serve you for a while.
Those seasons can feel isolating, even discouraging. But sometimes the back room isn’t a place of abandonment—it’s a place of preparation, healing, and quiet transformation.
Take a moment to reflect: Is there an area of your life where you feel temporarily set aside? What might God be shaping or restoring in you during this season? Who might God be sending to support you while you recover and rebuild?
Remember, the vessel in the back room isn’t forgotten. It’s simply still in the hands of the Potter.
✨ Your season of shaping may be the very thing preparing you for what comes next.
🌿 Stay Connected
If this reflection touched your heart, leave a comment, like, or share to let me know you’re here. Follow for more reflections, and consider sharing this with someone who needs a gentle reminder that love can be simple—and that’s enough.
💙 Your love matters. Your prayer matters. Your presence matters.
Let’s keep creating a space for honesty, compassion, and hope—one moment, one prayer, one simple act of love at a time.
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