My pastor’s “Daily Word” devotional arrived the morning after my MRI results and surgery were scheduled. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The message that day? The treasures found in trials.
Pastor Jack Graham wrote that trials can fortify us, prove us, test us, and prepare us.
When I read that, I immediately thought of one of my life verses:
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”
— 2 Corinthians 1:3–4
From the very beginning, I committed to living out that truth. If the only positive outcome of my surgery was that I might one day encourage someone else walking a similar path, then it would be worth it.
Now, reflecting on the past 23 weeks of recovery, I can say with complete confidence that Pastor Graham’s words were true. Here’s how this trial revealed its treasures in my life:
Trials Can Fortify Us
It’s easy to take life’s small comforts for granted—until they’re gone.
I’m single, live alone, and I’m right-handed. So, losing 98% of the use of my dominant arm was a shock to the system. I spent the first six weeks in a sling and had to learn how to do everything with my left hand…
Even after shedding the sling, I had very little strength. At one point, the heaviest thing I could lift without pain was my phone and keys.
Thankfully, my boss was supportive—encouraging the surgery and permitting me to hire help for assembling demos. I never used that option. Instead, I chose to return to the field just two weeks post-op.
Yes, I delivered adjustable-height tables left-handed—including loading, unloading, and navigating elevators.
I even led group presentations and product installations with my right arm still healing. The sling slowed me down—but it never stopped me.
Treasure gained…finding a way despite the obstacles.
Trials Can Prove Us
Even with 2 Corinthians 1:3–4 as my guidepost, there were days when my attitude wavered—especially at the gym.
Unlike everyday tasks, there’s no workaround in the gym. You either have both arms to train with—or you don’t. For someone as passionate about lifting as I am, this was incredibly frustrating.
One particular morning, after finishing my weight training, I was walking on the treadmill and reading—something I often do during cardio. That’s when I received a message from Tom Ziglar. It was a story about his father, Zig Ziglar, and it stopped me in my tracks.
Late in his career, Zig suffered a fall that resulted in short-term memory loss. For a professional speaker known for delivering powerful, life-changing messages, this could have marked the end of his career. But Zig wasn’t finished.
He still had the desire—and the calling—to serve others with his words. With the help of his daughter, Julie Ziglar, they developed a new way forward. Julie would join Zig on stage in a conversational, interview-style format. Her questions were intentionally crafted to tap into Zig’s well of wisdom and stories. This new dynamic allowed Zig to continue speaking—even with memory loss—by leaning on their relationship and her support.
Zig did the best he could with what he had.
He lived out Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
When I finished reading Tom’s message, I had literal tears running down my face. Here I was, feeling sorry for myself over the temporary setback of shoulder surgery—while Zig Ziglar, faced with permanent memory loss, found a way to keep serving others.
That moment broke something in me—in the best way. I felt humbled. Convicted. Inspired. Zig’s example reminded me that even in weakness, we can still lead. We can still serve. And we can still inspire others to push forward through their pain.
Treasure gained: persistence in the fire.
Trials Can Test Us:
It took a mental shift in the gym to let go of the idea that I was only training 75% of my body. My right arm might’ve been in a sling, but the rest of me still worked—and I trained with intensity, both emotionally and physically.
I gave my best, even with only 75%.
Physical therapy, though, was a different kind of test. My therapist, Jacqueline, moved my arm to restore range of motion. And I’ll tell you: I’ve done hard things in the gym, but this pain was different, and I would routinely be brought to tears.
After six weeks, Dr. Burns gave the okay to lose the sling. What a blessing; however, even then, early movements were brutal, and I couldn’t lift my arm more than a few inches without pain. I continued with my PT two to three days per week, slowly regaining the range of motion needed to ultimately be released from Jacqueline’s care and return to the gym full time.
For someone used to tracking pounds and reps, progress became measured in inches. That required a whole new mindset—and a whole lot of patience. One simple tool that I used at home, while traveling, and at the gym was a simple pulley system. Over the course of my entire fourteen weeks of PT, I must have done thousands of reps, and I give considerable credit to that simple device in helping me to heal.
Treasure gained: the value of patience. (Still a work in progress.)
Trials Can Prepare Us:
Today, my only limitations are in the gym—and even those are improving week by week. Life outside the gym is back to normal, which I don’t take for granted.
The biggest challenge? Time. Everything took longer. I developed a deep appreciation for the ability to use both hands.
Washing your face or combing your hair may seem like nothing—until you physically can’t lift your arm to do it.
My challenge was temporary. Some live with permanent injury, disease, or disability. That humbles me. That convicts me.
Zig’s story reminds me to serve. To give. To live with purpose.
Treasure gained…the value of perspective.
Closing thoughts for my readers:
When Dr. Burns told me I needed surgery, I asked how long recovery would take. ‘Six weeks in a sling. At least twelve weeks of physical therapy. A full year before your strength returns,’ he said.
And will I be able to train hard again?
‘You can still train hard… but train for longevity now—not to be He-Man.’
That stung.
A few years ago, Pastor Graham battled a life-threatening health crisis. During recovery, he often prayed, “God, just give me my old life back.”
But God’s answer was this:
“I’m not going to give you your old life back… I’m going to give you a better life.”
“After you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.”
— 1 Peter 5:10
I’ve gained my treasures—strength, humility, resilience, and perspective. And now, like Pastor Graham, I hope for a better life—not a return to the past.
Because at the end of the day, it’s not about muscle. It’s about people.
A wise man once told me, as a teenager just starting to lift:
“There’s more to life than having big muscles.”
— Sid
And you know what? He was right.
Resources:
Powerpoint Ministries (Free access to Dr. Jack Graham’s “Daily Word” devotional)
Dr. William Burns – Craig Ranch Orthopaedics & Sports Medicine
kellyamidonblog.com 
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