I turned over in bed this morning, barely awake and did something to my knee. I heard it click, could feel it wrench and boom pain. That woke me up. I knew immediately that this wasn’t good. As I tried to put weight on it, I felt as though I needed to hold on to the furniture around the room as I tried to walk it off – hopeful I could do just that. What have I done or what has my body done to me? What about the vacation we are supposed to embark on in two days, the one with all that walking, the one I have been testing out new shoes and sneakers for? This is not an exercise in self-pity and it is not a call for your sympathy, although if my Doctor is reading this, got room tomorrow in your schedule? It is that fundamental truth underlying all our dreams, expectations and plans for the future that we are one second and one movement away from knowing in our bones how capricious and unstable life is. I know, when you are young and your body is your temple you live in it with grace and confidence. And then again, our culture tells us that the more you exercise and take care of it, the more and the longer you can expect your physical being to cooperate and live up to your demands and hopes.
I am here to tell you yes, till no.
I am here to tell you don’t take any of it for granted. I know that’s hard. It’s not like you can walk down the street and sing praise for your health and abilities constantly. You have to make sure you are crossing in a cross walk; not bumping into people or things; are aware of your surroundings. But somewhere in your day, either when you wake up or go to sleep, there is a moment there. When you let your eyes see again; when you let your mind rest again. When you let go or when you hold on. There is this opportunity to say a blessing; to just say thank you for all that works in your life, even if imperfectly.
And I don’t promise that the blessing or the prayer will act as a personal insurance policy against the storm. I think it can be a change agent; I think it can make you (me) more sensitive and more aware. Sensitive to those whose health and mobility is different than yours; aware that what we have is good and needs to be affirmed and appreciated. It make us better people; it makes the lives we live in tune with love and hope and what some people call God. It can focus us on tomorrow and the day after and the good we can do and become.
I write this with ice on my knee and Ibuprofen within arms reach. We’re going and this is what I know. Just do it. Find some time in your day to appreciate what you have and who you are. I don’t care when; I don’t care how; I don’t care what language and what symbolism or ritual. And neither does God. Just breathe the blessing in and breathe it back. That’s a “Hallelujah”.