Making Sense of the Fall

I sat up, stood next to my bed, and began the trek to my refrigerator. There, safe on a shelf, half a cup of coffee from yesterday's brew sat waiting for me. 

I opened the microwave, set the cup on a plate, closed the door, and started the machine. Then I shuffled back to where my contacts and prism glasses waited in my bathroom. 

In that short amount of time, I realized my left foot and ankle still rolled out a lot more than it should. I'd hoped the combo of two long Sunday naps and a good night's rest would've strengthened it for at least half a day. 

MRI results will soon detail any damage done. But there's no doubt the fall in my shower last week set me back a ways.

While I feel strangely calm, it's hard to make sense of the fall.

I was actually on my way to a new Bible study before it happened. I'd spoken at a luncheon the week before and received a call later that night from a relative stranger, thanking me for my message. During our talk, she invited me to a local Bible study that held intrigue. Anticipation fueled me for days.

I fell getting ready to leave.

Rattled by the quick decent, I curled back up on my bed and chose rest over activity. Two days later I drove across town for my 
last post-op appointment for my left-foot reconstruction. And now, back in a post-surgical boot, I'm awaiting the results of an MRI. 

It's kind of surreal.

The weekend before the fall, Don and I made a date to watch the moon rise over the cotton fields. When his afternoon event went long, we opted for a grocery run rather than a sit down meal so we could get back to the farm in time.

Not only did we make it, but my feet carried me across uneven ground. Muddy tractor ruts led to the edge of the field, and I traversed the terrain in the dark without feeling off balance even once.

So why the fall? Why now when I was just celebrating greater mobility after a long year of struggle?

Did I do something wrong? Did I misstep? Is God mad at me?

After years of dealing with chronic issues, I'm actually more at peace with my current plight than ever before. I don't like it. But the thought of another surgery with six weeks of no weight bearing almost feels ordinary. 

Others go grocery shopping. I have surgeries to fix my joints. 

After years of processing the questions that sick people do, I'm simply at peace knowing it is what it is because we live in a fallen world where hard things happen. The enemy of our souls "comes to steal, kill, and destroy" (John 10: 10 NIV).

Just last August, a pastor, named Dan, fell in a hotel room, hit his face on a door knob, and lay paralyzed until someone missed him the next morning. Five months later, he still has no feeling from his neck down. 

I thought about him as I struggled to stand after my fall. My limb hurt. But that was a good thing.

Dan gave his first sermon last December, titled, I don't why, but He loves me.

Isn't that awesome? 

Paralyzed. Financially shaken. Unable to do anything for himself, he confidently stated, I don't know why, but he loves me. 

So how do I make sense of the fall? I quiet myself till His love invades and take one slow step at a time. 

And I read about people like Dan, who are deep in the thick of it, refusing to give up. His sister was married to my husband for just over 25 years before she died of cancer. So we've prayed for him, his wife, and their children and grandchildren.  

None of this is easy. But He loves us. Being confident of that will transform your entire journey.



I don't know why, but HE loves me from FBC Brandon on Vimeo.

Some photos courtesy of pixabay.com