Maven twisted her foot right after Christmas. After watching her limp around for about twelve hours we saw the pediatrician who sent her straightaway to get it x-rayed. Results? Negative. Fast forward about five weeks (and soccer tryouts, traipsing up and down three flights of stairs, running about like the athlete she is), and my sweet girl was still hobbling about and complaining, if only a wee bit. To the orthopedist we went for another x-ray. Results? Broken, in two places on the growth plate, no less. So, for five weeks she sported a purple cast until today, when she got upgraded to a boot.
Her x-rays amazed the doctor, Hubby, and me, then and now. It was hard to believe those bones belonged to the smiling girl who’d hopped up on the crinkly paper on the table—the boots she wore were definitely made for walking…and running…and kicking. By the looks of things Maven should’ve been crying, whimpering, or even uttering ouch! with each step. Our girl was itching for her sneakers so she could play salao soccer and run winter track, not a cast for five weeks or a boot for two more.
But God wasn’t surprised. He already knew about Maven’s infirmity—certainly not Hubby or me, not even the first radiologist. God saw the real injury she only acknowledged with a twinge. It was Maven’s body that cried out for help rather than Maven herself: seeing the swelling and redness, we took her to a specialist.
Secret hurts, private burdens, crushed spirits
We all have private pain. We hide our wounded spirits, weariness, broken hearts, and worry, and when asked, we answer, “I’m good. God is faithful!” But eventually, our sore spots rear their ugly heads where everyone can see—in a mental or physical breakdown, by our ill treatment of others, in what we say and do. We show our pain, our anger, our brokenness, our fears. In other words, we cry out for help.
God hears—but He already knows, just as in the case of Maven’s foot. And in our weakness, God perfects. God our Healer restores and renews.
Today the orthopedist showed us the new bone that’s already growing over the old, sealing the break, strengthening Maven’s foot. In fact, this injury helped by revealing her need for shoe inserts and firm, supportive sneakers to prevent future, more serious breaks or bad sprains, something we wouldn’t have known otherwise. God willing, her foot will be stronger, better.
Sometimes my personal heartaches and pain act as preventative maintenance. They remind me of my constant need for God. They slow me down, build stronger faith muscles, and lead me to seek God through prayer, Bible study, Christian fellowship, and shepherding. He breaks me down to build me up.
And when I’m “down” I see things from a different perspective, and I don’t mean finally noticing the dust under the sofa. Kneeling down puts me in the position to pray and repent. Slowing down gives me time to comfort others as I’ve been comforted. (2 Corinthians 1:3-5) Being down makes me look up, so I can behold His holiness and righteousness. Then He will heal me deep down, and like Maven’s foot, I’ll be made stronger, better, and fit for the race.
Then, I, too, can run mended, instead of walking wounded.
“And He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness. Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9
