Minutes before my fall, I was sitting in this very chair talking to Scott.
"I really just want to stay home and sit in my chair all day," I told him. Ha! Boy, did I ever get my wish!
In the four weeks that have passed, I've spent a lot of time reflecting and ruminating. There have been hours of introspection. Hours of reading God's word, hours of sitting and listening to His voice. In the early days of recovery, there were hours of frustration and tears. For the first two weeks, I cried every morning. Some days I cried every afternoon too. And a few days, I cried all day long. But the Lord truly has turned my mourning into dancing. Well, maybe not quite dancing yet, but definitely into peace and contentment.
My former life, the one in which I ran at full speed doing too much, thinking too much, planning too much, spending too much, obsessing too much, worrying too much, eating too much has faded away. I almost can't remember what it was like to be so busy, so consumed with doing. And when I do recall those days, I cringe. I want to cry, thinking about myself careening into busy-ness at break-neck speed as if doing one more thing each day would somehow make me a better person. I think of how I would smile when someone would say, "Wow, you're a regular Wonder Woman." I don't want to be Wonder Woman anymore. I get nauseous at the very thought of it.
Over the last four weeks, I've lost a lot. Abilities like standing, walking, driving, bathing or dressing myself do not belong to me right now. That means I can't get things for myself, I can't do things for myself, much less for anyone else. I can't make soap, give massage or teach hula which means I can't bring in extra money for our family budget. Really, I've lost all control of my world and doing things my way, in my time.
But, I don't feel sorry for myself because in this loss of control, I've found blessings I didn't imagine. My daily quiet time with God has gone from ritual to rich, abiding communication. Worry and anxiety over everything have been replaced with a deep sense of peace. The worries still rear their ugly head, but instead of giving into them, I've found myself comforted by God's spirit. I finally have experienced the rest that my weary soul, mind and body have needed. And yes, even more than before, I know that mind-body-soul are deeply connected.
Then there's the palpable blessings like the time to just be with my husband and kids without the disruption of busy-ness and rushing from one thing to the next. They have blossomed under the stress, blooming into more responsible children and a strong, leading husband. My independent, "do-it-myself", control freak personality had been holding them back. I see that now.
Then there's the friends and family all over the world who have rallied by my side, praying for me, sending me notes of encouragement and care packages. Friends and cousins who I've known my whole life but had lost touch are now a daily part of my life. There is so much joy in my heart when I see a Facebook message or a text from them, or get a card in the mail.
These are all things and people I didn't have time for before my fall. It's all so humbling.
I've learned that sometimes you really do just need your mom. And without question, a husband that will literally do everything for you "in sickness" is a priceless gift.
But there's one thing that I just can't fully make anyone understand unless they've been broken, been stripped bare the way I have these last four weeks. Here it is: grace hurts. It doesn't make everything okay. It doesn't make everything comfortable. It doesn't make you feel good. It hurts. It humbles. It heals.
It redeems you for God's glory.
Grace isn't getting a blessing you didn't deserve. It's not that pretty. Grace is being spared a punishment you most certainly deserved.
God does not call us to walk on the water when the water is calm. Even walking on calm water is impossible. But if the water is calm, would we actually need Him? Would we even glimpse His grace?
As much as I want to walk and drive again, I'm in no hurry to return to my old life. I don't want to plan, over-think or obsess over every little thing anymore. I don't want days so filled with busy-ness that I miss out on contentment. I don't want to worry or fear. I don't want to strive for earthly gain.
I don't want to walk again if it means not experiencing His strength, His mercy, His sovereign control and His grace by walking on the rough waters of life.
In some ways, this injury didn't just change my life, it saved it. This injury and temporary disability is a clear picture of grace and redemption. Not because God is healing my ankle. Not because He has blessed me with time to rest, time to be with family and rich relationships.
It's grace because He allowed me to get hurt, to be stripped bare, to be forced to let go of all I was clutching, grab my full attention and continue His good work in me. And that is God's riches.