Blessings in Disguise

I broke a toe.

To many, this would be the smallest possible mishap that could possibly occur in life.  A toe, a teeny-tiny little toe, was -very slightly – broken.  It didn’t hurt much.  It wasn’t a broken arm, a leg, or a life altering illness.  This injury was a simple thing, no cast required.  All I had to do to heal my little broken toe was wait.

But I struggled with this.  I seek out movement the way an alcoholic seeks out his next drink.  Usually, I feel like the type of person who can handle anything.  But I couldn’t deal with this.

 I craved running, walking, sweating, and feeling my heart beat fast.  First, I cut out running.  Then, I reluctantly gave up hiking.  And when the doctor said I really just had to stop and rest my foot for a week, I cut out the walking too. The less I moved, the more my mood sunk.

It’s laughable that something so small could throw me for such a loop.  As it turned out, movement was my lifeblood.  It was a powerful tool in my arsenal, one that kept me happy and sane.  When I was deprived of this outlet, life just felt kind of…blah.

After being off my foot for one solid week, I got a phone call from a friend.  He was going to be running a three-day charity hike in two weeks-time.  This desert trek was being held to raise money for a children’s physical rehabilitation hospital.  Would I come?

I told my friend that of course, I would love to.  But I had a broken toe.  I would have to wait to see how it healed.   “It’s no big deal,” I added, “But not being able to run and walk…that’s the worst!”

“Sure,” my friend commiserated, “It’s terrible.  That was the worst part for me too when I broke my leg.  But can you imagine how the children in our hospital must feel?”

My brain did a flip-flop.  As much as I already knew that a broken toe was hardly one of life’s big tragedies, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry for myself.  But when I stopped to think about the children’s hospital, how could I? 

Isn’t movement one of the essential parts of being a kid?  Isn’t running, jumping, and skipping a child’s lifeblood?  How could I be anything but thankful for my own charmed life – a life where the cessation of movement for the span of one week was my greatest challenge?

I guess my broken toe wasn’t even really a problem.  Rather, it was an opportunity: to gain a small bit of empathy, a tiny window into the world of hardship and challenge faced by others.  It was a chance to feel gratitude for my ability to move freely and with ease.  My toe helped me learn this lesson once again: life’s little mishaps can be blessings in disguise. 

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You can support the physical rehabilitation of children with chronic illness in Israel.

Click here to sign up for the Alyn hike. Or click here to donate.