Bones Always Heal

Seminary was rough. But it was the good kind of rough. The kind where you come out on the other side knowing more about yourself. The kind where you experience God.

After seminary, I desired a time of healing. All I wanted to do was rest. To relax. To give my heart and my head time to process all that happened to me.

After a summer saying goodbye to the people and places that I loved. I moved to Texas.

I searched for what God had for me next. I was convinced I had landed a dream position. I hadn’t (I will talk more about that next time).

There are those who say that God causes everything that happens to us. There are those who say that God causes nothing that happens. The truth lies somewhere in the middle. God is not waiting on the other side. He is not waiting for us to succeed or fail. Nor is he waiting to give us comfort when we have finally overcome.

Rather I believe that God is present in the midst of our lives.

After losing the position, I went numb for a while. Sleep occupied my days. Well, sleep and Netflix. The fog began to lift in April. In May the skies were clear again. I felt confident that I knew what was needed. I felt confident that I could do what was needed.

On the twenty second of May, I tripped while in the front drive way. I accomplished this feat while stepping over some twigs that were roughly six inches high. As I stumbled face first, I reached out with the palms of my hands to catch myself. The impact of the fall traveled up my left arm and shattered the head of my radius (arm bone on the “outside” if your hands are by your side).

Shattered is not hyperbole.

There were shards of bone now floating in arm. Surgery was the only option. Surgery was a success. My elbow is healed and my arm is rehabbing nicely. But we need to back up.

After the initial break, my arm was in a sling for a week. Then surgery. After surgery, my arm was in a brace for a week. This was followed by three weeks of slow gradual improvement in my range of motion coupled with six weeks in a brace that prevented me from turning my arm so that my palm was facing up.

I felt helpless. I felt useless. I wondered where God could possibly be in this time.

However, I was forced to slow down, and in that slowing I found again how to rest in God’s strength.

The healing I experienced during my time at seminary was an active one. I was in engaged in learning. I was in engaged in stretching myself beyond my comfort and ease. I was engaged with friends who taught me more than words can describe.

The healing I received while in Texas was a passive one. I didn’t have the money for the surgery. I didn’t have the strength to serve. I didn’t have the faith to believe that God was present in my pain. I didn’t have the faith to believe what I was seeking was worth seeking.  I had to ask. I had to receive. I had no other option than to be passive. I had no other option than wait. I had no other option than to heal.

Dear reader, I am sure you have noticed that I have moved from speaking of the physical healing of my bones to speaking of the spiritual healing of learning to receive from others. Learning to be a piece of a whole. However, it was my broken bone that allowed this lesson to be received.



X-Ray 3 months after surgery

My injury provided not only the space to heal but the analogy of healing as well. Bones will always heal. No matter what happens bones will grow back together. The nature of my injury was such that without surgery the shards of bone in my elbow would have grown into a single mass severely limiting the use of my left elbow.

Things had to be put back together the way they were meant to be. Time had to pass. I had to wait. I had to be passive. I had to let the bones do their work.

To receive the healing I sought, things had to be put back together the way they were meant to be. Time had to pass. I had to wait. I had to be passive. I had to let God to the work.

 

--Healing as a part of a whole, along side all of you,
Just from father away

--Jesse Letourneau