It was thirty six years ago that a devastating event occurred which would change my life drastically…for the better. How is that possible? Sit back and I will share my tale.
Psalm 130 begins with this powerful line, “Out of the depths I cry, O Lord…”. Through these words we gain a glimpse into anguish. All human beings suffer a variety of miseries throughout their lifetimes. As is often the case, how we deal with these challenges may have a great impact.
Long story short, I slipped on black ice. I sustained a torsion fracture to my ankle and tore all of the ligaments. Isn’t that special? Surgery ensued and I then spent two weeks at Mom’s Rehab and Training Camp. Each day was a routine. When I awoke, a breakfast tray was next to the bed. After a bird bath, stuff I’d need for the day was piled into my pillowcase and tossed down the stairs. I followed by bumping my bum on each step.
Once downstairs I crutched to the kitchen and propped my casted leg on a kitchen chair while I washed my hair in the sink. My ankle was so damaged I was never able to have a walking cast because the ankle would not achieve a 90 degree angle bend. I then settled on the couch in the living room, combed my hair and usually had to take a nap by then.
Lunch was in the fridge. Since I couldn’t carry anything, the seltzer bottle went into the pocket of my sweatpants, a piece of fruit in the other pocket, and the sandwich in its baggie hung from my clenched teeth. Lunch lasted all of five minutes which left all afternoon for tedious television, rampant reading, and necessary napping.
After two weeks I had gained enough strength to return to my small apartment. A friend would bring me bags of paperback books weekly that she’d bought at garage sales. My newly-retired dad kept me supplied with seltzer and Lean Cuisine. We listened to many baseball games over the radio.
I was alone a great deal. I’m a thinker. I knew in my heart how much I was not suited for my current “career.” I started making some phone calls. I learned I could get my Master’s degree, do my student teaching, and receive my certification all in two years. Hmmm, not bad. But did I want to teach? Yes, I did. I knew it was hard work as I’d watched the effort my mom put into her teaching.
So, I called a friend to take me over to SUNY Albany to meet with a representative in the School of Education. I arrived late, and was a sweaty mess. I hadn’t factored in all of the walking needed to access the building on campus. Crutching was much more difficult as an adult. But, I apologized and we had a productive meeting. I wouldn’t be able to walk on my leg until a screw was removed but that was taking place at the beginning of May. There was a short summer session beginning mid-May and I signed up for my first course.
Another long story short. I moved back home due to the financial burden of paying for school, worked part-time at my despised job until I finally left to do my student teaching. Was it easy? In some ways, it was. I had set routines. The coursework wasn’t difficult but extremely tedious. Most classes were at night. Student teaching was exhausting but exhilarating. I received my degree in the two year time period, despite working full-time for many months.
So, I’m proof that after having a succession of lemons thrown at you, you can make lemonade. Becoming a teacher was the best thing I ever did. It wasn’t easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is. Teaching was not easy. It required hours and hours of preparation. But again, it was worth it. My life was influenced by so many wonderful adolescents and I learned as much from them as they did from me. I’m thankful I was given the gift of time to think of my future and for the strength to make the necessary changes.
When it all falls down around you, get up and keep moving.
Stories Are For Eternity 