Story Time: Bubble Wrap

But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. 

 James 3:17

How could it be? One moment I was triumphantly spiking the volley ball; the next I had landed on my outstretched hand. Gingerly I picked myself up, carefully wiggling all fingers. Hmm— something didn’t feel quite right. “On the bench for you,” said the gym teacher. Sure there was a little swelling in the wrist; but it was time to head home after P.E., so that’s where I would go. Only to fall once more in the slippery school yard, extending the same arm to catch my fall. If I hadn’t broken my wrist the first time, the second was a charm. It was a lonely night in the hospital, by myself. The seconds ticked by—I remember all of them. Pain pulsated under my fresh new cast. Sure the nurses were there and friendly and helpful, but I wanted my mother.

Needless to say, for the next 6 weeks I was unable to compete in the loves of my life, any and all sports. I did not intend to fall. I certainly didn’t intend to fall twice. But here I was, sidelined.

The fracture of a family can come about just as quickly, unexpectedly, and unintentionally as that tiny greenstick fracture. And can be just as incapacitating. When my mother died when I was 22, our family fell apart. It was none of our faults. It’s just that she was the one who had kept us in that steady state of harmony. One day life was good; a year later the three of us remained, my dad, my brother and I. We all cried out in the dark of the night for mother. And that my brother and I were basically fleeing the coup, and my father’s job was in transition, did not help matters. Neither did the fact that I figured God was nowhere in sight, nor did He care.

Now that I am so much older and fettered with a touch of osteopenia, hence the increased threat of fractures, I am taking seriously the maxim that an ounce of prevention is definitely better than a pound of cure. Of course, the thought that my son, a physical medicine physician, threatens regularly with a sleeve of bubble wrap from axilla to knee, keeps me on my toes. He is such a task master: stretch mom, stretch; do those flexibility exercises; don’t miss a day.

So what’s a gal to do to prevent and care for fractures in her family? I believe it all boils down to wisdom, genuine wisdom, the wisdom that comes from heaven. Look at its qualities: the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere (James 3:17). To live like that, what can it hurt?  

Sometimes it’s a matter of putting oneself in the other’s shoes, or cast shall I say, that gives one a touch of wisdom—a sort of x-ray vision. Sometimes however, you just have to come to peace with yourself that this is the way it will be, unless Jesus chooses to be the chief fixer.

Thank heavens I finally learned that both the care and prevention of fractures rest in the hands of the Great Physician. Jesus is the one with the supply of soul bubble wrap.

Nancy P