Monday, November 24, 2008

Thin sticks

It doesn't seem possible that it's two years since I fell down the stairs and sprained my ankles. Do you remember? It all came flooding back this morning when, very stupidly, I caught my toe on a paving-stone and nearly measured my length on the pavement. Struggling to regain my balance, all I could think of was those two months on crutches. Who knows, it was probably the memory that kept me upright!
Nonetheless, I was also reminded of something else. Do you remember my reflection on thin sticks . . . ?

I’d never recommend falling down the stairs. Nor am I fool enough to suggest that there’s anything but discomfort and inconvenience in spraining both ankles. But that accident changed my perspective. It made me recognise an everyday miracle that I'd never noticed before.

Now, as I look around me, I see myriads of talented people - people who are totally unconscious of their incredible abilities - people who stand, and walk, and run, people who leap and dance, all whilst balancing on two very thin sticks at the end of their legs. They seem completely unaware of how wonderful this is, how totally amazing . . . what a feat of balance and faith.

But you only have to watch for a while, to look at the size of those thin sticks, and note the often very heavy weight balancing above, to recognise the miraculous when you see it. They don't topple over, these talented people, they don't end up with their thin sticks broken or swollen . . . it's a daily miracle that is vastly under-valued.

When I could only hobble, I vowed that, on recovery, I'd give thanks each day for the blessing of two, fully-functioning, thin sticks.
I may not always remember, but, as I regained my balance this morning, that's precisely what I did!