Damaged Goods

Journaling or blogging is a good idea. Reading my past posts show that I didn’t have a clue what to worry about. For example, a month or six months ago, I never expected to be concerned for my daughter’s inability to walk. An injury like that changes life for all those around.

I know that firsthand because I broke my ankle almost 4 years ago. It was life-altering at my age. Younger people heal more quickly; and I think, with the Lord’s healing hand, she will do just that. Still, for the time being she cannot do her daily routine—can’t help her two little girls get dressed, can’t go to work at a school that has come to depend too heavily on her, can’t drive when she is used to practically living in her car, can’t make special desserts at her restaurant as usual (so thankful for a dear, dear friend who pitches in so lovingly), and can’t even get into the shower to wash away the grime of the day.

It is humbling to become dependent on others if one has been so fiercely independent for their whole life. It is so much easier to help someone than to accept help. Perhaps, that is pride. Don’t we hear that in little tots—“I do it myself.” Perhaps that makes our admitting our inability to save ourselves and conceding our need for a savior so very difficult.

We want to save ourselves. We want to be able to handle our lives. However, we are broken people in need of heavenly assistance. I started to write that we need to be repaired; but it is more accurate to say that we need to be made new—to be born again.

Stay with me now, Psalm 23:3. He restores my sole—that’s very close to the ankle, isn’t it?