Finding Delight In Putting On My Socks

About a year ago I took a ski trip with my son. He was excited; I was apprehensive. He thoroughly enjoyed every minute. I spent most of my time sitting with my hurt knee elevated and wrapped in ice. Last week I finally had knee surgery.

For a while it seemed possible that I might avoid the pain and suffering surgery brings. But it came anyway--and it was worse than I had expected. Isn't life full of surprises?

The surgeon told me beforehand that I should be able to go back to work on in a couple of days. Complications arose, however. Now the phrase "six weeks on crutches" rings in my ears. And the "immobilizing splint" on my right leg is aptly named!

That first night after surgery, as I lay in bed drifting in and out of successive doses of pain medication, important issues swirled in my mind. I tried to stand without putting any weight on my right leg. It was as stiff and unwieldy as a telephone pole.

But in that moment I was overwhelmed with gratefulness to have a good leg to stand on. And I was at home--in my own bed.

Though I have spent many weeks on crutches before, it's been easy to forget how much I take mobility and good health for granted. Today, even simple tasks are greatly complicated. I have no way, for example, to take a bowl from the refrigerator and carry it to the table. I put the bowl on a high stool, and then scoot the stool with one of my crutches. Complicated, but it works.

Right now, I am at last sitting in a chair with both feet on the floor, sore leg bent at almost 90 degrees. It hurts, but I must gradually bend it even more.

Helen Keller observed, "The world is so full of care and sorrow that it is a gracious debt we owe to one another to discover the bright crystals of delight hidden in somber circumstances and irksome tasks." I'm trying to learn.

Yesterday, I was delighted to see a pair of birds scrutinizing our birdhouse as a potential home. And just today I discovered the delight of putting on my own socks without having to call for help. It's a small pleasure I had never before considered. These wouldn't have been important had I been up and around.

By the undeserved grace of God, I pray to eventually recover most of my ability to maneuver. But in the same breath, I pray to continue to be more aware of other delights hidden in the somber circumstances and irksome tasks uninvited pain forces us to notice.

Copyright 2001 James McAlister

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