Being still as a spiritual concept always sounded good to me. With all our busyness, most of us are drawn to and crave that one verse Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God.” I had that verse on a cute pink magnet hanging on my computer back when I had an office. I used to look longingly at it and wish I could be still.
Three weeks ago yesterday, I fell in a hole taking a picture of a most gorgeous sunset (I still think there’s something sad, strange and ironic about how it happened.) The next day, at the ER, the doctor delivered the news, “fractured ankle, stay off of it until you can see a specialist.” Do you know how incredibly difficult it is to “stay off your foot?” I will not go into the difficulties of those days but all was made worse in that I was 5 hours from home; awaiting the birth of my first grandson where I had planned to be super helpful and mobile.
Back home, the specialist told me I could have a boot, bear weight on my foot and even shower like a normal person so I loved him and cried tears of joy and relief in his office to the point that his assistant had to go find tissues. The sweet baby came 9 days after I fell in the hole. I made it back to Houston in time. I was super functional. I cooked. I did laundry. I changed diapers and outfits and loved on him fully. My boot and I were one.
Home again for my follow-up foot appointment, I was told it was healing well. Then the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth got fuzzier because he was saying things I didn’t want to hear. Him: “This is going to take 9-12 weeks to heal.” “You need to wear the boot anytime you walk.”Me: “12 weeks? That will be autumn when I become boot free!” “I can drive, right? Him: “No, that would be catastrophic.”
I quit talking but in my mind I was still arguing. Why did he have to use a big scary word like “catastrophic” in relation to my driving? At home, still in denial, I wondered if I could drive with my left foot. My teenager forbid it, “Mom, you aren’t even a good driver with your right foot. No. Just no.” Suddenly, I have the one wise, sensible teenager on the planet?
Be still. Heal. Rest. I can hear the quiet voice of God whispering. For whatever reason, I’m in this season where I let go of my job to embrace family and then fell in a hole. For whatever reason, I’ve been stilled. When I turned in my church keys, all I had left was a car key. Now, I don’t even have that.
Stilled. Humbled. Downsized. Key-less. Broken. Healing. Grateful. Peaceful.
“Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10 I still really like that verse.