This has been a different kind of week. Monday and Tuesday were normal, but after midnight Tuesday night, it changed. No food or liquids after midnight because I was scheduled for surgery Wednesday morning. Surgery? You might ask. Yes. I had a bunion removed and some repair to some toes. I won’t give too much information about the repair, but it reminded me of what my feet have been through. The miracle is the healing power of our bodies. Shakespeare’s Hamlet said:

What a piece of work is man!
How noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty!
in form and moving how express and admirable!

Hamlet was right. God’s top creation was man—made in His image. We are a miracle!

My feet are too. I’ll give you a quick history. In 1992, I was rock climbing at Smith Rock, in the Redmond/Bend area of Oregon all roped up and climbing a rock face (not a difficult climb—I’m very much an amateur) when my foot slipped. It was all right for I was roped up and wouldn’t fall to the ground, but I swung out and pendulum-ed out—and back against the rock wall. I knew immediately I’d done something serious because the pain was instantaneous. They eased me down to the ground and took off my rock shoe. My late husband, Bill, wrapped my ankle carefully to prevent more swelling, and we hiked back to our campsite a mile away. I wouldn’t have made it without my dear husband supporting me on the left as we limped up out of the gorge where we were climbing. We didn’t see a doctor until the end of the weekend—I thought I’d just sprained my ankle–but instead, I broke the tibia—the small bone in the lower leg. I was a teacher and our school year was finished and I spent the rest of the summer in a cast. The leg healed, though, and I had no repercussions from that break. Bill and I backpacked, rock climbed and climbed many more mountains throughout the Northwest for years after that incident.

Fast forward twenty years. One September evening, I planned to quickly mow the lawn before dark. My house had a steep sloping lawn and as I was mowing down toward the sidewalk, I mis-stepped—and you guessed it—broke a bone in my foot—the left foot. I was in a different home, all alone in this house. I was a widow—for the second time. I remember that evening clearly. I drove myself to urgency care where they x-rayed my foot and told me it was broken and made an appointment with an orthopedic doctor the following week to determine the next step. I limped alone into the house, sat on my bottom and hitched myself up the stairs to my bedroom. My foot was throbbing, I was angry at myself for slipping and doing this to myself and I felt very alone. For I was. But I turned my situation over to the Blessed Healer, Jesus, and told Him my troubles. And soon, I didn’t feel so alone. I learned to use crutches and after a week, I was given a boot to get around, and it wasn’t so bad after that.

Fast forward to January, 2015. I had some foot pain from plantar fasciitis and went to my friendly podiatrist who also happened to be my new brother in law. He treated my plantar problem and also suggested I might want to rid myself of the painful, homely looking bunions on both feet. We scheduled surgery to repair the right foot—the most painful one. The most difficult part of this surgery is staying off of it most of the time for three weeks for it to heal properly.

I followed the doctor’s directions—mostly—and in a month, I could wear normal shoes and gradually began walking and going to the gym again.

In May of 2015, we had just completed a hike at Cape Lookout in Oregon, a beautiful hike with views of the coastline from several thousand feet above.

Top of Cape Lookout

It was my first hike since the bunion surgery. We were camping in our new RV. On that Saturday evening before Mother’s Day, I ran over to our campsite to find something to share with our camping friends, when I tripped on the stairs of the RV and fell about three feet onto the ground. I felt sharp pain and again knew I’d done something serious to the left foot. Turns out I shattered my ankle and had to have surgery to repair the seven broken pieces with screws, a plate, a pin and a corkscrew.

That break was different. It was more painful. I stayed in the hospital for two nights, had to have physical therapy, and was laid up for most of the summer. A friend loaned me her knee scooter which helped, but it was still inconvenient, yet it healed nicely with the excellent medical care. The two scars on either side of the ankle are a reminder of the serious break. Yet, I wore high heels last Sunday and they felt fine.

I’m wearing heels before my surgery. I wore them at my marriage ceremony to Jim.

Now we come to this week, when I had the left foot bunion repair. Yes, the one that sustained the ankle break, the tibia break and the foot bone break. I hope this is the last, but if it isn’t, I have a sweet husband to assist me as I get up and down. Who will patiently fetch things I need. He’ll fix me dinner and for sure love and care for me.

Left bunion repair, 2016

I must stay off of the foot except for bathroom breaks until Thanksgiving. Then, they’ll let me be up for five minutes every hour, gradually increasing five minutes each week until the healing is complete.

I’ll try to follow doctor’s orders, for I want to be able to do things on my feet again. I love walking through my neighborhood, going for hikes in God’s beautiful world, and perhaps even climb a mountain again.

I’ve learned through these experiences what a healing body God has given each of us.

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
You watched me as I was being formed in utter
seclusion,
as I was woven in the dark of the womb.
Psalm 139: 13-15

Isn’t that amazing? I think so. Not only did God weave my bones together in my mother’s womb, He’s weaving my foot bones back together now, too. Just as He did my tibia, my foot, my right big toe—the bunion removal, my shattered left ankle, and my left big toe. Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.

Have a safe, healing weekend. I’m planning to enjoy the fire from my comfortable recliner, watch a good movie or two and enjoy the healing that is taking place. If I could, I’d take a hike, but I need to let my bones knit together again—and they will.