"On Being OK"

OK:  adj.  In good health or a good emotional state.

Upon greeting  me, a client often asks, "How are you, Ladonna?" 

"I'm OK," I typically respond.  

"Just OK?" he questions. 

 I usually laugh and answer  "It's better than not OK."  

Heading out to mow, it was four weeks to the day since I took an inglorious spill in a crosswalk in downtown Boise, Idaho. There was nothing casual about the fall, no trip and stumble, rather a splat to the street. 

A visit to the emergency room verified my initial comment as I pulled myself up. "My jaw is jacked up." An X-ray confirmed that it was indeed. I had actually broken my jaw.

There is no cast for a broken jaw, and, in order for it to be stabilized, extreme braces were put in place. The initial plan was for screws to be placed in the gums and then wires attached. The correct wire wasn't available so plan B included braces with bands. Thank God.

"Liquids only for six weeks," I was told. At first, I could ingest liquids with a syringe through a very small tube. After twelve days I would be promoted to just the syringe. No chewing allowed. My blender became my best friend.  

Adjustments were made as I filled the fridge with protein- and calorie-rich dairy products and shakes, maximizing meals with as many legumes as possible, creating dishes with combinations of a variety of foods to provide the eighty grams of daily protein suggested by a dietitian.  I was never able to come close to that.

Settling in to the process of physical healing, I wasn't prepared for the need to be healed emotionally.  

My family insisted I stay with them for the first several days despite my claim that I was fine. Surrounding me with love and protection, it was the perfect environment and cocoon in which to begin healing. In retrospect, I wasn't as fine as I thought I was.  

Pain was never an issue; having the rug pulled out from underneath me was.

The lack of confidence and the sense of being unsure of myself and basic motor movements  came like a wave hitting the rocks, unannounced at random moments. I found the fall had shaken me.

The first time I went into the grocery store alone I sat in the truck, steeling myself. My family had surrounded me for ten days, and now I was on my own. Cautiously, gauging every step and every flaw in the pavement, I headed out.  Knowing my inability to express myself verbally because of the restrictive banding, my instinct was to retreat, but an empty larder and the need to feed myself won out. 

Fear has its residence in the unknown, and all of life is just that--unknown. The "what ifs?" took over. What if I fall again? What if the jaw isn't fully healed, and I damage it yet again? What if, what if?

I had to force myself to cross the street to get my mail from the mailbox. Holing up inside my house, curling up into a ball and staying there almost seemed easier and was quite inviting.

My faith, my spiritual being, was shaken as well. "You let me fall.  You didn't keep me from falling," I cried out in those quiet, alone times. God reminded me of Job, who was stripped of his livelihood and his family and still refused to turn on Him.  God does not keep us from difficult situations, but He promises to take us through.  

A client who has had several bad falls with serious injuries described them as being traumatic--a new concept to consider. That description matched some of what I had been feeling, including a real sense of vulnerability.  

Going back to work was my version (or make that God's version) of being pushed out of the nest. I fought it, yet at the same time I knew it was important for my well-being. I needed to get back in a familiar routine again. I did only cleaning that first week. I tested any unexpected ramifications from using the vacuum cleaner, leaning over while working, anything which might cause a shift.   

I mowed for the first time almost a month after falling. It was the first time I had off-loaded and loaded the mower from the truck, the first time I had started my tools by pulling on the rope starter. Was I putting pressure on the healing jaw? Was my ear protection pressing against it? So much of the body is used in the simplest of motions. Was I causing unforeseen damage?  

Peace was not my friend as I concluded my day and headed home. Pulling into the garage, I heard my inner voice--"I am not OK. I am not OK. I am not OK." Over and over again it spilled out until I was emptied. There was only silence as I headed to clean up. Then, very quietly I heard, "You are OK."  

So many times we want to be great, fantastic, fabulous, outstanding, and superb. But those are often bubbles which quickly burst and disappear. My position is being "just OK" is a good thing. 

And I am OK.


"It is well with my soul."



     





         

"On Giving Thanks in Everything"

thanks:  n.  An expression of gratitude.  Grateful feelings or thoughts.

Quietly minding my own business while ironing a pair of pants for a client, the thought entered and settled in, probably through the back door of my mind, before I had a chance to put up my guard."I don't think that's a good idea," I countered, "I'm not going to lay myself out like that," knowing full well there was no way to sweep it under the rug, pretending it wasn't there. Once an idea is given to me it becomes the elephant in the room--It will be addressed and dealt with.  

November and Thanksgiving is months away, the typical time of the year when thanks are garnered and verbally expressed. How atypical is it to initiate an awareness of gratitude when the new year has only just begun? I do march to the beat of my own drum.

The courtroom was empty except for those involved in the trial--the lawyers, defendant, witnesses, judge, and other officials. Empty, that is, except for me and the minister from the church in a small coastal town the defendant had attended as a youth. There were no other friends or family members in support of the one on trial. I had been the recipient of his one phone call when he was arrested.  

The evidence was overwhelming. There was no reason to believe he would not be found guilty and sentenced to serve time. The only question was where and how long.  

"Guilty" was the pronouncement. In my mind I heard, "In everything give thanks for this is the will of God." Unfamiliar with the words, I searched after getting back home and discovered its source in scripture. A new concept was planted that day. A young man was heading for a correctional institute, and the charge was to "give thanks." 

We stayed in touch during his time in correction, writing and visiting. He made a decision while there--that he would never be incarcerated ever again. And he hasn't been. He and his wife own their own truck, hauling all over the country. He is a successful businessman, an asset to society and his family. His life took a turn, a turn for the good, on that fateful day. Unseen though it was, it was a reason to be thankful.

The very nature of giving thanks is for there to be a recipient. So often, being thankful is not unlike blowing up a helium balloon, attaching a tag to it, and letting it go up into the sky where it eventually fades away. It is important that thanks be given to God, the person, the source of all things--one on one.  

And this is where the original thought enters in--I am to post a daily thanks, something I have expressed to God in my daily life and share it with you. Who will join me in this exercise? I am not asking you to comment but, rather, take the time in your own life at some point during each day, consider what you are thankful for, and give thanks to God.    

The caveat is "everything." It is quite easy to thank God for all of the "feel good" things in life; He is asking that I thank Him for and in everything. This much I know:  All things are at the hand of God, and in that I can give thanks. A young man, having been found guilty of a crime and sentenced to serve time in a correction facility, satisfies that requirement. 

And so the elephant in the room has been dealt with.  

We shall all watch and see where this leads.


"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."  I Thessalonians 5:18



             

"On Injury, Healing, and Scars"

injury:  n.  Damage to the body of a human or animal.  The violation of a person's reputation, rights, property, or interests.  Injustice.

healing:  n.  The process where the cells in the body regenerate and repair themselves.  
The psychological process of dealing with a problem or problems.

scar:  n.  A permanent mark on the skin sometimes caused by the healing of a wound.  A permanent mark on the mind. 

Glancing at my ankle bone, my eyes caught the tiny scar.  I was no more than 4 years old when a stack of 2 x 4 s fell over, trapping my foot.  My brother had been assigned the task of piling the lumber so they would be ready for our father who was building a new house for the family.  Most certainly I was uninvited help, and the incident verified that.  I hadn't noticed the scar or thought about the occurrence in years.

Physical scars are often a personal record we carry on our bodies, marking periods of time and events in our lives, each one with its own unique story.  Over the years, mine has been evidenced with stitches.  There was a time in my life where an annual trip to the doctor was required--my poor mother.  Perhaps for others they are the result of a dreadful bicycle accident, a painful burn, a surgical procedure, scrapes from road rash, a stumble into unforgiving brick hearths or heavy, wooden coffee tables, ad infinitum.  I doubt there is a person on the face of this earth who does not possess a physical scar of some sort. 

There is the injury, then the healing.  And the scars remain--a reminder, sometimes gentle, other times stark, of where we were and what we were doing at an exact moment in our lives, perhaps including the suggestion of having been protected and spared from further harm. 

There are other types of injury as well, invisible to the naked eye.  These are the situations and circumstances which affect one emotionally, causing hurt, anger, dismay, great angst, and the potential for enveloping bitterness--an argument between spouses, friends, or co-workers where hurtful words are exchanged; an illness which takes over and consumes not only the patient but family and friends as well; a bitter end to a relationship where the children become the pawns, the victims; the death of a partner, a best friend; witnessing the self-destruction of a child; ad infinitum as well.

This kind of injury is not so readily healed as the physical.  Cell regeneration is not applicable.  Bandages, splints, stitches, and antibiotics are ineffective.  My personal confirmation, however, is that restoration is possible, the pain lessening as healing takes place. 

And make no mistake--all healing, whether physical or emotional, is of God.  The One who is the giver of life heals as well.

It is told that Christ appeared to his disciples after his crucifixion, death, and resurrection.  Filled with questions and doubts, he was not readily received.  "Put your finger here and see my hands.  Reach out your hand and put it in my side.  Do not doubt but believe," he told a doubting Thomas.  Having done that, noting the place where the sword had been thrust into his side and his palms had been nailed to the cross, Thomas' response was, "My Lord and my God."  *
       
Why does Christ still carry those scars?  Why didn't his body become "perfect" upon resurrection?  These are questions for which I have no answer.  

The experience of injury is one which is common to mankind.  It is said that time heals all wounds, and for many it does.  For others, however, healing is elusive, ever just out of reach.  May each of you know healing at the hand of God--in both the inner and the outer.  And may you "own" your scars with pride, having completed the process, the scar a period on the sentence.  The scars on Christ's body certainly are that, as he spoke from the cross:  "It is finished." *1     


"O Lord my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me."  Psalm 30:2
* John 20:27, *1 John 19:30