Monthly Archives: March 2013

Easter Sunday

 

Rather than being at church as I wish and desire, I am laid up at home this morning.

At two different points in last evening’s Easter Vigil, I had a hard time rising from my chair to stand, so bad was the back spasm.  (I twisted hard as I fell last week, and the back has been getting progressively worse all week. Heat and stretching at home don’t seem to be efficacious.)  By the time I got home last evening, I had trouble getting out of the car.

So, after struggling to get out of my clothes and my walking boot, I went to bed, and on an empty stomach.  At about 2 in the morning, I moved from bed to the recliner in my office, which felt better on the back.  At about 5, I took a pain pill.

And then I didn’t hear my alarm, and when Nick texted and called at 8.30 this morning to find out where I was, the phone was in the other room and I couldn’t get to it.  Then when I did start moving, I realized that standing is great for my back spasms, but not for my ankle swelling (because it is indeed swollen again).

The day has not started off propitiously.  I am missing church . . . I have about one sitting position that is comfortable . . . Samson is angered because he can’t be on my lap since I can’t lift him . . . I’m missing Easter service . . . and I’m frustrated as I can be, at least at this moment.

But — Christ the Lord is risen, and all is well.  Of this I am certain.

Holy Saturday

The plumber has been here and gone, since he couldn’t get the shut-off valve to shut off.  Now we have to dig in the yard.

(25 Lawn continues to nickel and dime me.)

Samson is snoring on one side of my lap.

I shall listen to a portion of Messiah later today, and bake a cake.  And then comes the glorious Easter Vigil, and the mighty promises of the Exsultet.

The ankle is weary today . . . weary of the walking boot and of stairs and of an attached human who has a hard time sitting still.

Stillness is what today needs, though.

This is Holy Saturday.

The tree is felled, but its stump remains,
           Waiting, in the soil.
And we in our waiting sing muted refrains,
The cries of parched soil longing for rain
            And waiting in our toil…
 
The tree is felled, but its stump remains,
            Waiting for the dawn.
And we in our Sabbath sing muted refrains,
Longing faintly for our king who reigns
            Through every crying morn…
 
~Matthew Pullar

Five days later

Well, I can honestly say, five days later, that breaking a bone in one’s leg is not very much fun.

I am mindful that 2000 years ago we did so much worse to Jesus.  That perspective (and the memory of those legless beggars in Malaysia) helps me understand that this is a temporary and extremely minor inconvenience.

But the walking boot is irritating.  The pain is frustrating.  And the added time for me to undertake simple tasks is patience-trying.

[Samson just tried to get up on my lap.  He knows I’m needing some love, sweet doggie.]

Good Friday is good time to help keep all of this in the right frame of mind.

My bruised ankle three days after the event.  The other side is much worse, but I can't bend things enough to take a pic.
My bruised ankle three days after the event. The other side is much worse, but I can’t bend things enough to take a pic.