I had literally come to a place in life where my lifestyle choices
had broken my back. Twice.
As I began the long, slow road of physical
rehabilitation and walked for short periods, multiple times a
day, surrender became my heartbeat and prayer. I would say
the word over and over again. A gentle beckoning within and
without shed light on a better way to live. A posture of giving
up my old ways was the first step in a slow turning toward
wholeness and health.
My husband adapted his work schedule to be more
hands-on at home. My parents, who are really great at showing
up, came in and out of our home during this time to help care
for me and our children. Friends stepped up and provided food
and encouragement. My mother-in-law flew down and helped
out. We hired someone to do the day-to-day care of our
children while I focused on rest and recovery.
Because I needed to put my energy toward getting well,
a rotation of family and hired sitters was put in place to care
for our daughters. One day I left to go on a short rehab walk
and returned to our home. Our four year-old girl was standing
in the driveway sobbing. “Mommy, I thought you weren’t
coming back.” My heart broke. Another day, the girls and their
babysitter made a huge “get well soon” chalk drawing on our
driveway. I longed to be the one hanging out with my
daughters. I had a lot of time to consider how to make amends
and change course.