Today marks the eight week since my life turned upside down. It was the day I broke my right foot. As an avid walker, the broken foot halted life as I’d known it. But, yesterday I went for my first bicycle ride in two months. I’ve walked my dog the past few days. Life goes on.
My husband retired one month ago. Yesterday was the third month we’ve had sweet little Lucy. This is the same dog I was attached to when she chased a cat. That’s the brief version on how I broke my foot.
I sit in bed and write this thankful that sitting in bed is a choice – when I first broke my foot it was more of a necessity. My foot doesn’t feel one hundred percent right but with more time I’m expecting the body miracle to continue to heal it.
As I write these words it’s with ambivalence. Sometimes when people write of themselves there’s truth shared or compassion unveiled, but some words about me and my life and what I do sound like narcissistic ramblings. Some words refresh, some boggle the mind while other words leave us wanting more. Maybe all things written cannot be a home run. Maybe some words can be mundane, flippant or garish. I honor words. They can take us from the ordinary into sacred space. Maybe I expect too much from my words but I know the possibility. I know how words can dance and prance past our minds and into blessing. I want to care for my words. I don’t like to waste them on broken foot and token mind spasms. I want them to live and be free. But in the other hand I cannot live in a word prison. I must be free to speak of daily living and dogs chasing running cats and broken feet.
As I said “today marks the eight week since my life turned upside down.” No word dread, enough said.
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