Four weeks from tomorrow I will store away my crutches and begin walking on two hopefully-healthy ankles. (I had surgery 3.5 weeks ago). I get all excited when I think about walking, but lately I’ve also been reflecting on reasons why I’m thankful that for now I’m on crutches. Today I’m thinking specifically about one of those reasons: I can’t hurry.
This past Monday by 9pm I accomplished the following: eat breakfast, have quiet time, do the dishes, clean the kitchen sink and counters, eat lunch, re-do dishes, clean my room, take a nap, make and eat dinner, re-do dishes, complete an hour of school work. Granted, it’s summer and I did sleep in until 11:30am (not entirely on purpose). But still, that’s not much for one day if you consider the fact that a lot of what I just listed involves 3 necessary meals. Everything I do on crutches takes me twice or even three times as long as it would were I up and about on two good legs.
For the first two weeks, this slowness frustrated me. I’m just coming off of my hardest school semester yet and then a month and a half of enjoying all the walking and driving I could before my ankle surgery and creating my 3rd year PhD exam lists and committees. I love productivity; sometimes I enjoy being busy. But I also deeply need and enjoy time to be quiet, to have space, to live slowly. The flurry of activity and thought in which I was engaged for the past several months dislodged me from the experience of stillness just enough that returning to it became hard. When my surgery was over and I had endless days of leisure to look forward to, I was reluctant to embrace them . . . until I remembered.
My moment of realization came last week when I was sitting on the front porch in the shade, a cool breeze blowing, my book and pen in hand, my eyes wandering over the neighborhood, my ears catching the sound of birds chirping. I had no time-table for the day. I knew it didn’t matter if I sat there for an hour or four. No meetings or classes or assignment deadlines were going to suffer if I took an hour to eat lunch and then napped for part of the afternoon. And no one was going to complain if I spent the rest of the day after that reading my book, writing for fun, watching my favorite cooking competition on TV, or just sitting and thinking. I love just sitting and thinking.
Being on crutches is helping me recapture the magic of unplanned slow-paced days. The experience is reminding me why Sunday has been my favorite day for the past two years—it’s the day I don’t let myself touch the books or do anything that is or feels like “work.” This space and cushion of time is the reason why I like riding the bus. Besides meeting interesting people, which always happens on a city bus, I like that it takes me longer to get where I’m going. I like that I have a reason to just sit and watch the scenery go by.
Three and a half weeks into my mandatory rest period, my thoughts are clearer, my heart is more hopeful, my mind is more at ease than before. The rigors of this past semester of coursework on top of the emotional turmoil of a difficult family health crisis took me too far away from the stillness I love so dearly. I’m thankful that a 7.5 week hiatus on crutches is helping to bring me back.
And now . . . I think I'll go read. Or maybe I'll just sit here and enjoy the sunshine.
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