My socks have holes, was my thought. I need some new
ones. If I had been thinking I would have asked for them for Christmas.
The heels on
my SmartWool socks have worn through, evidence of the use they are given. Having
proverbial “cold feet,” I love my warm socks, putting them on as soon as I wake
up and taking them off at bedtime, washing them in between.
It is
December 18 today, and this particular pair has served as a constant reminder
of that day a year ago.
Visiting my
Idaho family for an early Christmas, the family had gone on a shopping trip in
downtown Boise. Two carloads’ worth, we spread out as we trekked along, all ten
of us, checking out the local stores. While not a shopper, I felt I was in
heaven when I discovered a store that carried SmartWool socks. A previous
gifted pair had been worn until they had no life left in them, and I was thrilled to
find a store that sold them and made my purchase.
It was
cold. As I walked along, I stuck my
hands in my coat pockets. The light at the crosswalk said I had nine seconds
left in which to cross. Rushing to beat the signal, the lugged sole on my Ugg boots
caught the top of a raised area, probably designed to give traction in icy,
snowy conditions. The fall was with such force a daughter walking along behind
me thought I had been shot.
Remembering milestone
events--anniversaries, birthdays, dates of the passing of loved ones. —is not
something I do well. I know the dates of my children’s births and those of my
grandchildren, and that’s about it. I do remember this particular date, though, and I certainly won’t forget
the experience.
One year: One
broken jaw, five replacement crowns, an injured finger (note to self: Do not
walk on uneven surfaces with your hands in your pockets), a fat lip and scuffed
up knee, but not a single stitch.
There is
point and purpose to everything. All things are at the hand of God. This is my
belief, my conviction, and how I live my life.
There was a
time in my life when I had a “la la la” fairy tale image of spiritual life. My
perception was that not only was God even better than Santa Claus, He was a magical
force that kept me safe and protected in a bubble.
As He began
revealing Himself to me, I learned He doesn’t keep me from difficult situations
or circumstances, but He does promise to walk through them with me.
As humans, we tend to categorize happenings in life as “good” or “bad.” My position is some things are harder than others, but that doesn't make them bad.
I remember
lying in bed that first night after a visit to the emergency room—actually, I was sitting upright on a beanbag to
alleviate pressure on the broken jaw—asking God what I had done wrong, why the “splat”
had happened. He did not answer.
Time is a
healer; it also brings with it perspective.
One year
later, I can attest to God’s faithfulness. Every single step of the way, my
Heavenly Father has been with me—from the very beginning. What could have been a life-altering event
was more of an inconvenience. That I had
such minor injuries given the force of impact is testimony of His hand upon me.
Christmas is
a week away. I’m not sure what the menu plan is for Christmas dinner, but I
guarantee it is going to be better than what I had a year ago. I can’t recall what
it was exactly, but it was liquid, ingested through a very small straw.
My son-in-law
has asked me to see if the oral surgeon could repeat the extreme banding procedure which stabilized the broken jaw. Making it quite impossible to talk, he
says last year was the quietest Christmas the family has ever had.
God
is good.
“Yea, though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for
thou art with me.” Psalm
23:4
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