Gold Star Girl

Just over a month ago, I fell – flat on my face – while crossing a major road. Splat! Thankfully, I wasn’t hit by an approaching car. Had I seen it (yes).  Should I have waited (yes). Thankfully, there was no blood, no broken bones, no bruises. Just startled spectators, smashed spectacles, shattered pride, and a sore shoulder. An aching hip, too. Claude swooped down, picked me up, dusted me off, and we proceeded to a nearby café where I was given an ice-pack for my fast swelling forehead, a cappuccino for good cheer, and a road safety lecture by our concerned younger daughter, “Ma, weren’t you the one who taught me to: Look left. Look right. Look left again?”  (Oh, the indignity of it all!)

And with that, my highly gracious self towards injured others, pretty much turned on myself, ‘You’re such an imbecile! Can’t you even walk properly? Look at the fuss you’ve caused!’ But, I was going to make up for it by; not being a nuisance, not asking for help, and not complaining. I was going to be the gold star girl for getting on with ‘business as usual’.

Instead, for the next few weeks, I ached in parts of my body I swear didn’t even know existed. On the first morning, I lay in bed and wondered how I was going to lift myself off the mattress! I needed help with the smallest of tasks; pulling on my socks, putting my hair into a ponytail, placing a coat hanger on or off a rack. I still need help with getting my left sock on! 

I went online, and was able to diagnose myself: bursitis. The inflammation can be caused by a trauma to the region (tick) extended periods of sitting (tick) legs differing in length (tick). The recommended treatment is rest and time, pain management, and then, eventually, exercises to begin to strengthen the muscles.

I’m better now. Most of the pain in my shoulder is gone. But I’m a long way from flinging my arms around Claude’s neck (not that I’ve ever been able to reach that high!), waving pompoms like a high school cheerleader, or reaching up into the cupboard to sneak a treat from where Claude hides it high high up. I also still have discomfort in my groin area and my lower back hasn’t fully unkinked. None of this is what I expected. I was just going to wake up the next day and be fine (or at least be able to pretend to be fine!)  

And so, I’ve done a lot of thinking over these last weeks about expectations. 

Because, really, so much of the disappointment we experience in life has to do with the chasm between the way we think something ought to be and the reality of what happens. I might have had an easier time, if I’d set out across the road with a bit less ego and expectation, and with more caution and humility instead. Actions and bodies are unpredictable, after all, and humility and healing is a process.

And having to readjust my expectations brought me to a place I didn’t expect to be: battling to walk, struggling to lift my arm. Unable to do simple tasks for myself. Instead of overcoming this mishap like a gold star girl!

Pain makes you a novice. Moment by moment, you have to discover what your body will handle. You figure out what helps and what movements to avoid at all costs; sneezes, laughs, and coughs! And suddenly, with pain as your teacher, you are fully awake and fully paying attention. Fully. Fully. Simple movements that you did mindlessly – slicing a ciabatta,  turning over in bed, tying apron strings, hanging out the washing – seem momentous.

And I’ve also learned lessons about releasing expectations. A few more about being vulnerable and asking for help! 

I have to accept that there are some things about my body I can’t control. What I can control instead is how I look after it. It means working with what is – right here right now – rather than grasping for something out of reach. Hurting myself. Delaying the healing. The path to wellness turns out to be slower and way more humbling than I thought, which makes it scarier. But it also makes it beautiful. Because as pain slowly eases its grip, what filters and flows into that tender place is gratitude.

Last Friday, I took my first real walk outside along the beachfront. It felt like liberation – and like cause for celebration. I walked slowly, focusing on creating a comfortable walking rhythm; left, right, left, right, my high ponytail swinging in unison. And what I thought about wasn’t that I’m not running or dancing. I thought about how special and sacred it felt to take a walk outdoors, hand in hand, with my handsome husband of nearly forty years.

I saw the sky turn gold in the flush of the afternoon sun. I saw the sea change colours and glisten, glimmer, and glow. I listened to two seagulls calling back and forth from high above the waves. I felt the salty sea breeze on my face and the muscles in my groin that still need strengthening. But I also felt like myself. Not the Jann who used to pound the pavements, stride through soft sand, dance with dizzy abandon around the cottage, but me: present, in my body, in the world, alongside this incredible man. I’m blessed with the best! Mindful of the rules of road safety. Look left. Look right. Look left again. Got it! Alive. Oh, and happy. Happy. Happy.

Extraordinary days don’t need gold stars. But ordinary days sure are brighter with a shiny, five-pointed glimmer of gratitude.

Though a righteous person falls seven times, he will get up, but the wicked will stumble into ruin. Prov 24:16 CSB

Don’t be afraid, because I’m with you; don’t be anxious, because I am your God. I keep on strengthening you; I’m truly helping you. I’m surely upholding you with my victorious right hand.” Isaiah 41:10 ISV

Dear God

Thank you that you are always with us, that, even though we stumble and fall, in your strength we will rise victoriously, again and again. We praise and honour you for your goodness.

Amen

What has happened to you that should not have happened (had you been more careful)? How did you deal with it, physically, emotionally and spiritually? Looking back, can you think of any good that came out of it?

How do you identify with the “golden girl” mindset, i.e. stoically soldiering on even whilst all is not well?

If you have “fallen”, how have you been aware of God’s goodness and grace when you have been at your weakest and most vulnerable?