Until It Isn't

"This one is harder than it looks," my physical therapist cautioned.

"Let's start with 30 seconds; use the balance bars as needed."

I snickered inside as I climbed aboard, accepting the challenge

to balance for 30 seconds, a feat he shared that many struggle to do.

Pretty sure I lost my balance before he even started his stopwatch, a lesson in humility to be sure. How is this so hard? Is it easier if I look down at my feet? Or should I look ahead and trust my feet to figure it out?

And it got me to thinking about how this platform parallels life.

You're rocking and rolling along, life is going smoothly.

Your relationship is solid; your job is a safe place.

Your kids are finding themselves and everyone is healthy.

Until it isn't.

Something happens ... 

A new boss.

A broken bone.

A failed friendship.

An insurmountable loss.

A diagnosis you weren't expecting.

A financial strain you hadn't planned on.

... and you're thrown from the platform that you used to balance beautifully on. In fact, it was so fluid it had become automatic, this balancing act of yours; it was moving as if on autopilot.

Until it wasn't.

In my case, it was a broken bone to fix a bunion.

No big deal, right? An act of self-care, I told myself,

so that I could run around with my grandchildren

as we all grew older together, mobile and well.

So when the surgeon said that I'd need at least six weeks of PT,

I didn't understand. Why would my foot need therapy?

"Because you'll need to learn to walk again."

Wait, what? Walking is a skill I've had

for 64 years. It's something I know how to do.

Until it isn't.

I've had to relearn how to walk.

How not to favor that foot.

How to balance.

How not to limp.

My foot is relearning how to load.

I didn't even know that was a thing.

Until I did.

So I'm grateful for PT, for helping me relearn how to walk. For giving me counsel and exercises to help me not favor the injured side, which is now back to 100% physically. But mentally it's a different story. My mind is protecting me by telling me it's going to hurt. My mind wants to avoid pain at all costs. Even if it means being off balance for now.

So I have to be intentional about the work.

It takes a lot of coaching to get balance again.

Coaching from my therapist and coaching from within.

And it takes an openly positive, can-do attitude.

Positive self-talk helps me create balance.

And resilience is key for healing.

So maybe it it's not about looking down at my feet

or looking out at what lies ahead. Maybe it's about

looking up and relying on my faith to guide my feet.

Faith in the Great Healer.

So even if we struggle to balance on that board for more than a few seconds at a time, our faith can move mountains, with friends, family, and our higher power lifting us back up and holding on tight until we learn to walk upright again while creating that new balance.

Faith will always be more than enough for when balance is all out of whack and I can't seem to put one foot in front of the other.

At least not on my own anyway. 

Because we were never meant to balance this thing called life alone.

Happy balancing as we March into spring, dear reader.