Writing, Wandering, a Walker, and God's Plan for Me.

 

On Dec. 29, 2023, I ran away.  Seven years I’ve lived in a very rural and impoverished community, and have felt such sadness, loneliness, and joy, and moments of grace.  I’ve gained two more  grandchildren, lost one family member, found a small circle of friends, and I’ve been able to focus on what I love which is writing.  This road has brought me to studies of my Faith; I’ve discerned that my Gift of the Holy Spirit is creativity and in particular, writing.

    I’ve been writing for decades but it has been for the sheer pleasure of it.  In the early days of my writing, I shared it on blogs and photography became its constant companion.  But, one day in 2017, I found myself in a different world from anything I ever experienced.  My writing started to form a purpose and eventually, for 18 months, I wrote for a weekly newspaper writing about my observations of my adopted world and its contrast to everything I knew.  Eventually it took the form of a book, “A California Girl Meets the Bootheel”, and readers, especially the locals, loved seeing their world through my eyes rediscovering, if you will, their world that they took for granted.  Their normal was not my normal.

    With time, a new rhythm of life asserted itself.  I accepted that ease of movement, both literally and figuratively, would not be mine anymore.  Healthcare matters became a serious issue. Beyond one primary physician none were near at hand.  Every healthcare matter necessitated a trip to somewhere else.  Recovering from illness and injuries was not easy; choices were limited.  Physical therapy was, literally in another state.  One other unexpected change that hit me here was my inability to orient myself. To this day, I get lost.  Everywhere, it is flat.  A wrong turn can send me across the river into another state, down a gravel/dirt road and onto a levee, or heading north when I thought I was heading west.  As a consequence, I rarely drive anywhere by myself.  Relying on my GPS will not necessarily get me going in the right direction.  It’s just that rural.

    So, on December 29, 2023, I ran away.  Our son lives in Indianapolis with his wife and I desperately needed to revive my spirit.  I had things to think about, write about, to reorient myself to.  After seven years, my place in the world was beginning to feel on solid ground again.  It really never did feel that way, truth be told, but now I wanted it and with the grace of God, it started to be mine.  I had this idea that two weeks in Indianapolis, Indiana with my son and daughter-in-law would open a floodgate of possibilities.  I intended to Uber around Indy while Q and Erin were at work.  There was a coffee house to explore and use as a writing place.  Shops that I had absolutely zero access to at home or anywhere near home waited for me with open arms.  I would be refreshed, revitalized, made new.  My husband would be a very happy man when I returned home.  But, you know what they say about making plans?  Life happens.  And, life, did indeed, happen.  I had plans. God wagged His finger at me.

    My trip to Indianapolis  became a testing ground for patience and humility.  My right leg was aching badly on the morning we left for the six hour drive north.  A nagging headache started to reassert itself and would not subside. My knees chose this time to rebel and my balance became compromised.  My intention to call my doctor for an appointment when I returned home moved up quickly to visiting a sports medicine clinic in the city.  And. Of course.  I tripped on the way into the examination room injuring myself to the point that I now cannot walk safely without a walker. Five days of hobbling around and I found myself reading my Bible, my catechism, my inspirational books, reflecting on the “why now” question, and just generally being grateful that I was in a situation where I was safe and well-cared for.  My husband, God love him, would have done all that my son and daughter-in-law have done and I’m relieved that it all happened here so he could wrap up some important matter of his own without having to deal with me on top of it all.

    All the drama of that afternoon on the first Wednesday in January and the big trip that landed me with a walker was topped off by snow overnight.  This, of course, created a whole other series of possibilities.  Would it snow more?  Would there be ice?  Was I to be housebound so early into my sojourn?  The angst was real but oddly enough, so was the joy.  The snow was unblemished, beautiful, a source of sheer comfort and delight.  The snow did silently melt away but it took about 4 days.  In that time, my knees relaxed and strengthened and with great care, I became able to go outside and up or down a step/curb to go to and from a car.  But, there will be no Ubering for me.  I must stay put if family isn’t around.  And the worst part is that I had one plan that I have not mentioned here.  I was going to go on a two night retreat at a local Catholic retreat center.  That, as well, is off the table.  But it’s not so bad.  Work time for them means much time I can spend with writing, which was my objective at the retreat center.  Hence, I can still achieve my objective, I’ll just need to do a work around.  God had other ideas.  These knees need to be fixed and He forced me to look at that while still affirming that writing for Him to share to others was still His plan for me.