Nearly a month ago now, I took a hard fall on my back porch, leaving my back bloody and swollen, along with a black eye and pain that refused to fade. Mystified at its steady worsening, I finally went to the urgent care last night.
The verdict?
It turns out I broke at least one rib, which can take up to three months to heal, and likely bruised others.
I have said for years that with God, class is always in session. When the syllabus includes suffering, the lessons reach the deepest parts of us.
Pain is a faithful, if stern, teacher.
It is strange how something so invisible can steal so much. How something as automatic as breathing can become a conscious, measured act when you are hurt.
Deep breaths stab, and laughter leaves us wincing in pain when wounds go undiagnosed. The simplest joys suddenly bear the ache of bodies that have weathered the impact and known the blow. Each inhale, each exhale is a reminder of how fragile we really are.
It reminded me that not all the wounds we endure are physical. Some injuries, like my fall, strike without warning. These are the ones we never see coming: Illness. Grief. Disappointment. Loss.
These are the unexpected sorrows that steal our strength and leave us aching in unseen places. They are the kind that make deep breaths hurt and laughter feel too costly. They take our breath away and linger far longer than we expected.
These fractures of the soul make us wince at memories and ache in the quiet hours. We learn to move carefully around them, to protect what still hurts, and even to pretend weโre fine while still short of breath.
But even in this, there is hope. For there is One who knows what it means to be broken. God, our Mender, meets us tenderly in our pain and does what only He can do. He steps into the broken places of our lives with His healing power on full display and begins His painstaking work among the fractures.
He knits together what we cannot fix, restores hope where pain has settled too deeply, and returns breath to us when life has knocked it out of us.
So hereโs to the hidden wounds, the unexpected falls, and the long mending. May we welcome the healing that comes to both ribs and hearts alike, may we be patient in the waiting, and may we trust the hands that hold us steady through the ache.
When the pain flares, when the breath catches and the weight feels too heavy, may we remember that even then, healing is happening beneath the surface and within the silence.
Our wounds may change the way we move, but they will never get the final word. In time, breath will return, laughter will come more easily, and grace will meet us right where we fell.
This is not the end, beloved, this is only the beginning.
So even if your gait is unsteady and your walk halting, keep on, for the path of sorrow still leads toward joy, and your Healer walks ever beside you, matching you step for step.
โOur wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful part of us.โ
~ ๐๐๐ง๐ซ๐ข ๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐๐ง