a forced slowdown

on breaking a leg

I broke my leg on Friday. Or ankle. I’m not sure what the proper terminology is. I broke my tibia and fibula, both. Seems they are the leg bones that stabilize one’s ankle, one on each side.

Fun Fact: if you break only one or the other of these bones, a cast will do the trick. If you break both, it’s surgery.

So I’m in a cast, at home, waiting for surgery, hopefully quite soon.

It happened as I was attempting to save a bedraggled kitten, stuck on a branch over a raging river. I managed to grab the kitten just before the branch snapped, setting it gently on the riverbank before tumbling onto a rock, breaking my leg, and then slowly pulling myself up the rock face, hand over hand, to solid ground. That’s when the forest rangers arrived, fashioned a stretcher out of branches and…

Ok, none of that is true.

I wiped out on the ice. Like a gazillion other Quebecers. Like my own self several years ago, except on that occasion I broke my wrist. That was called a “FOOSH” - “Fall On Out-Stretched Hand”. This time I certainly did not break my wrist, I wisely turned mid-fall to avoid that. Because I do learn from my mistakes. I broke the tib-fib instead.

That’s what they call it, in ER.

Tib-Fib.

So it’s a forced slowdown for this running pastor. And I’m probably not supposed to say this out loud, but that part - the forced slowdown - I’m kinda ok with that. Trucker Man has me all set up to be safe and fed while he’s at work. Neighbours are super-kindly walking the dog. And I can make my own coffee.

So I’ll be fine. Gonna try to take the rest that is doctor-ordered, be present in this moment, see what I find here. God is here in this place, I’m sure.

May you welcome the peace of God with you today, in whatever space you are in.