write
Ugh.
I’m going on 3 weeks of dealing with this toe. The first week I was on crutches. I’ve never used crutches before, so I had to learn how to maneuver up and down stairs, throughout my house and getting in and out of cars. I had to lean heavily on my family and friends for simple tasks like carrying my coffee mug in the morning, to holding doors open for me. Crutches are not easy or comfortable. My palms and armpits hurt, but I knew they were necessary despite the pain, to allow my toe to heal.
I’m off the crutches now, but still have to wear an orthopedic walking shoe for the next several weeks, which causes me to walk a bit like Frankenstein. #thankfulhalloweenisaroundthecorner And while I rarely feel any physical pain other than occasional throbbing, every day I put on this ugly, black shoe, I am reminded I’m not fully healed, and in fact, still broken.
But brokenness is not limited to the bones in our bodies.
Some would say our schools are broken, our government and certainly parts of the world. But that’s not all. We are broken.
We are broken in our insecurities.
We are broken in our addictions.
We are broken in our relationships.
We are broken in our depression.
We are broken in our struggle with weight.
We are broken in our thoughts.
We are broken in our selfishness.
We are broken in our pain.
We are broken in our anger, grief and sorrow.
We are broken.
And in our brokenness we can feel weak, vulnerable and isolated. We may lose our way, or lose hope. We can sometimes sink so deeply into a fog; it’s hard to find our way through.
It also seems when we are at our most broken, there is an ugly daily reminder we have to put on and wear. Maybe it’s not as obvious as a black shoe, but it’s there nonetheless, accompanied by a dull throbbing you can never fully shake.
But healing takes time, and crutches are necessary.
Crutches help guide and support us as we wobble through life. My faith is a huge crutch for me as I believe it is in my brokenness that God pursues me, finds me, restores me and loves me. I also lean on and into my family, friends, and music, reading and running (when I have all my toes working).
And while it is killing me that I can’t be out running in the crisp autumn air, with the sound of crunching leaves underneath my feet, my broken toe has forced me to slow down and take some deep breaths.
Inhale. Exhale.
It’s given me perspective. I’m certainly not trivializing any of the brokenness we all are carrying. But as I read and pray for the people devastated by all the natural disasters, or the senseless killings, it makes my brokenness easier to bear. In fact, I offer my own brokenness as a prayer for strength for my fellow brothers and sisters that feel they have no hope and no crutch to lean on.
Using crutches doesn’t mean our path to healing is easy or comfortable. It simply means we have a way to get through life, walking slowly and steadily, one step at a time.
