Since my little hand surgery, I’ve been practicing recovery.
The shoe has been on the other foot for one who has been caregiver more than care receiver. I’ve experienced gifts of grace and kindness from hither and yon.
It’s been a long time since I was on this side of the sick-bed. I’ve learned some valuable lessons about pre-surgery and after.
My preparations were beneficial. I got a haircut, put food in the freezer, had a full refrigerator and a relatively clean house. The haircut was especially helpful because it is a challenge to fix my hair with one hand.
I had to relax and let things go. The weeds in the garden are flourishing along with the flowers. Let them fight it out. I just can’t garden now. The yard is not so pretty this year. I will work the soil again and reclaim it.
Food was always a welcome kindness. While being one-handed, having a meal that was already prepared was a relief for the chief-cook-and-bottle-washer. Sweet William was very glad too.
A card and a call are simple gestures but they meant a lot.
I said “yes” when someone offered help. One friend said she was coming on a Wednesday and would do whatever I needed. What a blessing that was.
While I wished to be able to do things on my own, I could not always. Those who gave themselves revived my soul and ministered in a way I cannot quite explain. It was like having sweet incense poured on my head.
Sometimes I had to ask for help. It is humbling, yes. But I found people were more than willing to lend a hand.
I realized jewelry was not necessary. It was difficult to put on and I was comfortable without the added embellishment.
My elastic-waist pants were my friends, so much easier to maneuver as I tried to be as independent as possible.
I gave into my inner creative self, sitting at the table for a couple of hours working with paper, markers, buttons, and a frame. The finished piece continues to speak the message to me, “Quiet your heart.”
I rested a lot during this month, and I almost began to feel lazy. No, I did begin to feel lazy. I’ve been a mover and a shaker for so many years. During recovery I allowed myself to rest, read, sit quietly, watch the birds, take leisurely walks. I’ve not started or completed any major projects or unnecessary tasks. It has been good. And the world kept right on turning without all my hurry and flurry.
I became more attentive while not speeding through the day. I noticed wild flowers growing and remembered sitting in the grass as a child making clover chains for my neck and wrist.
I saw bees buzzing around flowers and a wren building a nest in the bird house on our deck. I watched rabbits nibbling grass in the evening. I bent to admire the beauty in flowers and plants that thrive in spite of my neglect.
I heard the wind in the leaves of the great oaks and enjoyed their shade. I stopped underneath during the rain and was sheltered.
I stayed connected with people but I fought the impulse of too much social media. When there is nothing on the list for the day, the temptation to waste it online is real.
It’s been relatively calm at the Wright House for a month now. I feel strength coming to my hand and arm and the urge to get on with it, to pick up the pace a little and get back into the game.
This time of quiet reflection and rest has been a gift in lovely ways. It’s been a vacation at home, an extended Sabbath rest for me. I was like a boat on the river, turning loose of oars and rudder, floating where the little craft would take me. Where the Spirit led.
It’s been a beautiful excursion.