It all began with a limp and an inquisitive farmer of a
father. A quick measurement of the uneven legs confirmed a problem, a battle of
body within. Legg-Perthes disease, a hip disorder, a disease cured with leg
braces.
Returning home from the doctor’s office in this body binding
and seemingly limiting device produced a fit that only a 4 year old is skilled
enough to enact. The tantrum was not long in its duration but after five
minutes of crying on the floor the flood of fury and dejection ended. Getting
up off the floor, life began. This was not so much a display of courage on the
boy’s part but more of a reflection of the determination and deep love on the
part of the two parents. Hearts aching with sorrow and doubt, they looked on.
They encouraged the boy with gentleness but treated him like the others.
Bicycles were ridden, soccer was played, ice skates used and a seemingly
hobbled boy pretended not to notice the braces. Braces with a 14 inch bar
between the knees to keep the legs at an angle to allow the hip to repair.
There was never any physical pain, just a squeak when the metal needed greased
that served as a relentless reminder.
When there was any walking, standing or anything else
involving mobility, the braces had to be worn. Treated as a lifeline, the
lesson from the doctor was that healing would only come if the braces were
always used. Save for one time, a quick jog across a private bedroom when he
was alone, did the young boy always wear the braces when upright and moving.
A soccer game played and a father looked on. The ball passed
right between the boy’s spread out legs. He ran on, without any concern but for
winning the game. All the while his father wept with anguish. His mother also
looked on from time to time, questioning her actions and the unknown
possibility of being the cause of the disease herself.
Two years of restriction and success was around the corner
until a doctor returned with discouragement and troubling x-rays. The disease
had spread to the other hip. Another 3 years passed, 5 total before liberation
finally occurred. The healing completed at the age of 9, after most of the
boy’s childhood had faded away.
In the Idaho countryside one does not sit around, especially
with brothers, sisters, horses, dogs, cats, and thousands of acres for a back
yard. Living life was not up for debate or discussion, it simply happened. No
choice was made, except on that one day, the first day, after the five minute
fit on the floor.
Life hits us so hard sometimes that we feel as if we have
been shackled and slammed to the floor. It hurts, we are confused, and often we
cry. Our hearts are frozen, cracking, aching, on the verge of shattering.
Shattering into a billion pieces, only to melt into a dark puddle of pain.
Rising up out of the ashes of our aching soul, crying out
with anguish, we must choose the life that has been given freely. We must
choose to embrace our eternal exaltation. We must live our life, hand in hand
with our Savior. Looking into our past, into the trials we have faced, we must
look further. We must look back far enough to glimpse the Master. Once we can
see past our pain and suffering and into His life of long ago, we then are
freed. Liberated and released from whatever it is we face.
In the present we often cry out for understanding and for
help with our new limitations or ones that have lingered for what seems eons.
Once thought conquered we often find they have only shifted to another part of
us. Pushing us on to endure when we feel we can no longer. After the tears are
shed and the sounds of sorrow exhausted we have one of two choices. Once we
have finished our ‘five minute fit on the floor’ we have a decision to make. Do
we continue in debilitating despondency? Do we throw our hands up in confusion
and lay down to dissolve into despair, never to rise again? The only other
choice we have then is to live. To get up, to choose to live with Him.© 2013
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