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One Year Ago . . .

It’s funny how you can be be-bopping your way through life, not a care in the world, when all of a sudden, reality smacks you in the face . . . or rather the ankle . . . and your sense of security is ripped from you like the stickiest band aid you’ve ever had . . . and you realize how quickly life can change.

That was me, exactly one year ago today.  I wrote about it here.  I still can’t read that post because it was so traumatic.

Y’all, I don’t think I’ll ever think of November 13th the same way again, for as you know, that’s the day that I broke my ankle.

Twelve months.

365 days.

They say that time flies when you’re having fun.

While this may be true for some, I’d argue that time also flies when you’re busy learning how to do life with one good ankle.

This year will go down as one of the hardest I’ve ever experienced.

The shock of the fall, the discovery that I wasn’t going to be able to step on my right foot as the Mr. helped me to the car, the pain on the way to the emergency room, and the realization that I was down for the count for a good long while after getting the diagnosis of a Trimalleolar Fracture (three broken bones), surgery, and a two-year recovery – well, let me tell you that there were a LOT of tears.

In fact, just thinking about this milestone and the post I knew I’d be writing about it had me an emotional wreck on Sunday.

At church, as we sang “I am Redeemed,” I broke down because the words hit so close to my heart:

Seems like all I can see was the struggle
Haunted by ghosts that lived in my past
Bound up in shackles of all my failures
Wondering how long is this gonna last
Then You look at this prisoner and say to me “son
Stop fighting a fight that’s already been won”

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I’ll shake off theses heavy chains
And wipe away every stain now I’m not who I used to be
I am redeemed
I’m redeemed

All my life I have been called unworthy
Named by the voice of my shame and regret
But when I hear You whisper, “Child lift up your head”
I remember oh God, You’re not done with me yet

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I’ll shake off theses heavy chains
And wipe away every stain now I’m not who I used to be
Because I don’t have to be the old man inside of me
‘Cause his day is long dead and gone

Because I’ve got a new name, a new life I’m not the same
And a hope that will carry me home

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I’ll shake off theses heavy chains
And wipe away every stain now I’m not who I used to be

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I’ll shake off theses heavy chains
And wipe away every stain now I’m not who I used to be

Oh God I’m not who I used to be
Jesus I’m not who I used to be
Cause I am redeemed
Thank God, redeemed

This past year has changed me, for the better I’d like to think.

I used to be so anti-depend-on-someone-else-for-help, but now I realize that I cannot live my life this way – that it’s okay to ask for assistance.

I’ve become more empathetic and appreciative of the little things.

From the moment I realized that I was going to have to operate a little differently – well, okay, a lot differently, I began to look for joy in the small things.  I grasped onto these moments and held on for dear life because the road ahead of me promised to be long and challenging.

I’ve always been a person who had to be in control.  So much of my childhood was about others wielding their authority over me in a negative way that breaking free of their stronghold and becoming an independent woman armed me with a sense of vindication, validation, and victory.

And then I broke my ankle and found out that I wasn’t in control, and that all I could do was sit back, let others take care of me, and wait while God healed my broken body and spirit.

I’d hoped that I’d be one of those “miracle” patients who healed faster than any seen before and was up running half marathons a year ahead of the expected recovery time, but alas, I’m not.

I still have a ways to go, as indicated by the pain I deal with daily with an intensity that varies according to the exercises I’ve done that morning, the weather, or whatever whim strikes it.

The struggle is still so very real and incredibly humbling.  Simple motions like getting out of a chair or stepping out of the car take more time and require more attention in how I place the weight onto my foot – actions I always took for granted before but never will again.

I try not to have pity parties.  My friend, Barb, only allows a person to partake of such indulgences for a minute before moving on.  I love her for this and try to remember that when I find myself sinking into the pit of sadness.

And so, one year later, I’m focused on the blessings from my injury:

  • A closer relationship with the Mr.
  • A renewed sense of family and what it means to take care of one another
  • Friends who pray and can be relied up to help when I call
  • The opportunity to meet some very caring health care providers – the harried but kind ER nurse who took care of me that long seven hours after my injury, my surgeon, his thoughtful nurse and other staff, and my physical therapists
  • Kind-hearted students who remind me not to stand on chairs or my classroom cabinets so I won’t break anything else
  • The ability to empathize with a student last week after she broke her ankle (she’s going to see my doctor, I believe, this week and will have surgery too)

Through this experience, I’ve been reminded that God does not waste anything in our lives – that He uses everything to bring glory to His name.

I pray that as I’ve shared my ups and downs with people, I have, ultimately, honored God and His tenderness and provision in even the smallest details of my life.

While I pray that the next few months following my December surgery to have the hardware removed will be easier than last year, I know that even if they aren’t, I’ll get through them because I have the strongest support system that exists and, more importantly, a foundation built upon God’s love for me.

It’s funny.  When I first got my injury, I figured that I’d be back to my old self after the two year recovery I’d first read about while biding my time in the ER; however, over the last twelve months, I’ve come to realize that the old version no longer exists.  Much like the song I posted above says, I’m no longer who I was before.  God has used this experience to shape me more into the image that He originally intended me to be.  As I’ve cast off various chains – splint, cast, and boot – I realize that some of my chains have been internal as well:  pride, overconfidence, and ungratefulness, to name a few.  In many ways, my spirit is lighter given my renewed reliance on the One who matters most.

It’s been a painful process, both literally and figuratively, but one that I don’t know I’d take back if I could (I’d have to think a bit more on that, but the logical, trust-in-God side of me knows that this would be the right choice).

So I’m walking slowly but with more confidence knowing that I am not alone and that I am not expected to do this in my own strength.

Kind of like this . . .

All Photos-439

Thank you for your prayers over the past year.  May I ask that you continue praying as I push forth into the next part of my recovery?  Thank you, dear friends. ❤

One Response

  1. Wow… what a year. I cant believe its been that long. I can remember it like yesterday.

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