A Bend in the Road

I was watching AGT the night Susan Boyle walked onto the stage to audition. I and everyone in that theater immediately formed an opinion. Kind of a frumpy middle-aged woman. Hope she doesn’t embarrass herself too badly. And then she sang. My opinion changed. She was amazing. 

It’s not quite the same, but I have over the years known of someone who broke their arm. Oh that’s too bad. Good thing it wasn’t their dominant hand. And then I broke my arm. My opinion of the consequences of that has changed. 

Instantly my life as I knew it was placed on pause. 

There is a long list of things I cannot do. Can’t open anything that requires me to turn the lid. Can’t take out my trash, do my laundry, go to the store, or pick up a package delivered to my front door.  I had just purchased flowers for my yard and planter. I was looking forward to playing in the dirt after my morning walk. I had to watch others take care of them. Going to the bathroom is quite the struggle as I have to pull my pants down and then up with one hand. And I can’t bathe myself. A dear friend has stepped up to help me with that.  As much as I love to drive, I’ve been told I can’t until maybe September. 

For five weeks my world has consisted of sitting and sleeping in a recliner. The first two weeks that was my world. I’ve gradually recovered enough to expand my existence to encompass my house. And now, today, I’m sitting in the swing on my patio. I tried it way too soon and thought I might have to call someone to help me get out. My writing has come to a screeching halt as I can’t lift my arm high enough to type. I’m inputting this on my iPad with one finger. Hopefully I can copy and paste. Reading a book has also gone by the wayside. My arm is not strong enough to hold it. So I’ve had to turn to Audible, even though being read to is not my favorite. 

I’ve said many times I have a village. Well it’s very true. Neighbors, church friends, Starbucks friends and many others have come to my aid. My kids keep me supplied with food from the grocery store or a meal from a restaurant. The Door Dash drivers are kind and carry the food into the house for me. Even the postman brought the box to my door and asked if he could carry it in for me. “How do you know I need that?”  “Two weeks ago I delivered something to your door and the person who came to the door told me you broke your arm.” 

I’m so grateful it wasn’t worse. I didn’t move after the fall, so the bone did not dislocate. Therefore no resetting or hospitalization was needed. I declined the offer of a pain medication. The discomfort of pain and aching has mostly abated. For the first weeks I was given the nickname “Polly” due to the sound that emerged from me when my arm was moved. Polly is gone. 

I’m praying I can use this time to deepen my walk with God.  Watching television has pretty much been abandoned. Not much worth wasting time on there. My favorite pastors are a part of my day. I’m now able to sit at the table and work on a puzzle while I listen. The words in the picture say “A bend in the road is not the end of the journey.”  Lorri was in Amish country and was purchasing it at the moment I fell. I’ve definitely reached a bend. But I’ve had other bends in my road. It’s still not the end of my journey. 

I want to be more in tune with what’s really happening in the life of others. I pray I never gloss over the bend in their journey.