I am finally wearing a shoe on my left foot (albeit with gel soles). Although the foot is painful to walk on for any length of time, it is still progress – being less painful than before.
While that is not something you really need to know, without it the following would make little sense. Particularly to those who are reading this blog for the first time.
In the past couple of months I have gone through situations, feelings, and emotions that, while in many ways making me mentally and spiritually stronger, I could certainly just as well have done without – in my limited view. Some of the problems I have shared here from time to time. Posting here was one of the things that took a hit – it’s hard to post when you are in pain and trying not to feel sorry for yourself. Misery may love company, but the company will get tired of misery. I certainly grew a little tired of myself.
Granted, I only broke my heel – as opposed to something more damaging and permanent. But that did not make it any more palatable to me. Regardless of the severity or permanence of my injury, my normal routine was turned upside down and I was forced to depend on other members of the family for help. Having three teenage boys meant help when Cyndy was not here would seldom be forthcoming.
The physical changes I got around as best I could. The mental and emotional effects were the most difficult – mostly because knowing better did not keep me from being affected by dreary thoughts and feelings. Feeling sorry for myself, while it repulsed me, relentlessly pursued my subconscious, avoiding all reason. But I am now getting back to business as usual – as it was before the broken heel ordeal. Sitting at my desk is once again a refuge – not a cage from which exit is pain.
The subject of this post, however, is not my foot or my perceived misery, but those infrequent pleasant occasions during detrimental circumstances that cause an epiphany – or, at the very least, casual insights. I spent a lot of time in the past three months looking out the back door of my home office at our garden, rose bushes, and wild flowers. I say “our” but it is actually Cyndy who does the gardening. I water the plants some, take pictures, and share in the proceeds. I also get to watch their growth and evolution.
Which I had time to do, not being able to do chores and even simpler things around the house when taking breaks from writing. It is natural, when past the age of fifty with an injury, to reflect somewhat on one’s mortality. Though it might be natural, it can be disturbing, bringing thoughts that one would rather avoid, but are necessary to eventually come to grips with mortality.
So, while I was reflecting on my mortality in the midst of an episode of writer’s block – a rather disturbing combination, I observed the day to day growth of the plants and flowers. The daily activity of the plants reminded me that my heel, while constantly hurting, was also changing and heeling daily – even if it was hard for me to tell. The plants and flowers would begin to show the effects from the heat of the Texas summer at the end of the day. The next morning, after receiving water and sunlight, they were vibrant again – the sun once again bringing out the bright colors of the flowers.
Thinking about the intricacies of nature, I was impressed by the potatoes. Before some potatoes we had not eaten became completely unusable, Cyndy had planted them in compost, mulch, and so forth in the plastic bin you see in the picture. As a result, we now have healthy potato plants from potatoes we would have thrown away in the past. Likewise, parts of the plants and flowers are blown away, or fall off, landing randomly, facilitating new growth. Death becomes life.
In my mortality contemplation, this fascinated me while calming me down somewhat at the same time. Some parts of, and people in, our lives get blown to other places, planting seeds we never see or are aware of. After we are gone, they continue to grow and continue the process we began. If we strive to live a life fashioned after Christ, we live on in the effects we have on those who live on after us. Likewise, part of what we instill in them gets blown away and the effects of our lives continue to touch future generations.
Whether all of the effects of my life on others gets attributed to me is irrelevant. The point is that very seldom do we die alone. There are those people, of course, who do – although I think even they affect others in some way. For good or bad, we affect others both before and after our death. Which, while we may never be aware of it, is a comforting thought if we are trying to live as we should. As for myself, I am working on it.
Peace be with you.
Tags: broken heel, Christ, Christianity, faith, flowers, foot, garden, generations, God, injury, life, misery, nature, pain, plants, Religion, rose bushes, seeds, writer's block, writing
