Holding Tight the Brittle Branch

I’m scared to death. No, it’s not a movie I saw … but a personal glimpse of things to come. Before me there is a huge, craggy boulder blocking passage. I must use quick thinking … it could be pushed away, climbed over, stepped around … ouch! … as the thorny briars snag my jacket. Should I hide under it? Or turn around and go back. Oh no! There’s a bear staring at me. One easy step, then another. I grab the brittle branch and jump off.

Onward! I pack my bag. Destination – the hospital, now a renovated efficient medical center offering a tasty breakfast and lunch. They are waiting to fix me. It will require cutting out the the ageing hip replacement of fifteen years and replacing it with a fresh model. Hmm … a simple Band-Aid this is not.

There is a flurry of second thoughts on readying that packed bag. Especially the destination; I would rather be leaving on a jet plane to anywhere else. Someplace with a sandy beach to skip waves barefooted while munching fried clams with loads of tartar sauce. Why? Because this could be my final sunset.

Suddenly in surround sound, my memory replays from years back. The constant throbbing in my leg. The nagging tension in my brain to run away. Don’t do this! I would rather avoid the pain entirely. But the hip was screaming at me …you must do this! What do you prefer - being able to walk or wheeling about in a chair?

I reflected back on my first hip surgery. There was a queasy stomach and a good deal of discomfort (!!#$%!&*) after. With amazing efficiency, the surgeon and hospital team took me apart and put me back together again. However once home, my strength lagged. I stared out the front door, avoided stairs and slept on the living room couch. But in several weeks time I was able to step out of the house. I returned to work, planted the gardens, painted the garage and drove to the grocery store to buy lots of dark chocolate. Hurrah!

Yes, the past fifteen years have seen many trampled paths flattened with footprints by my dilapidated sneakers. No regrets here.

Sometimes you need to look back to move forward.

So, I must do this. I will yield to this journey, to a place unknown and uncertain.

Just let go of the branch and freefall. Embrace the thrill of the wind in my face and the

weightlessness of body. Realize trust in my doctor and the medical team as well as trusting the support of family and friends. And embrace a positive state of mind— that will accept help, nurture healing and prepare for another chapter in my life.

But even more important … I will welcome faith and confidence in God to help me travel the next mile.

… “and that’s how I live it.”