February 17 was a game changer. One second I’m prancing down the cement stairs from our back porch to the detached garage, mentally re-writing the grocery list I’d left inside and didn’t want to go back for in case my daughter saw me leaving the house without her. The next second, with a crack-snap-pop, I was on the icy ground with my right leg still on the stair behind me.

My first thought? Where’s my phone? Is it getting wet?

My second thought? I broke my ankle. I better scream for help.

So I screamed for my husband until he came outside. At first, from his perch at the top of the steps, he said, “Maybe it’s just sprained; can you get up?” Then, when he reached me and saw my adorable boot-clad foot sticking out the wrong way, he said, “Oh my, yes, that’s broken. Let’s get you to the car.”

Crawling on my hands and knees across the ice, across the dirty garage floor, I realized it was my right leg that was broken. As in, I wouldn’t be driving any time soon. My car, and the ability to drive it, was my link to independence, my get-out-of-jail-free card that I often used when I needed some alone time. For this too-busy homeschool mom of two, hopping in my car and rushing off to Wal-Mart alone was somewhat akin to a paradise vacation.

Now my too-full schedule was on hold. Indefinitely. No independence in the near future, this much I already knew.

Clinging to control

I broke my leg in three places, dislocated my foot and popped the synovial sac with just one step off one icy stair. It took sedation to put my foot back in place, then surgery to reassemble my ankle.

I’d like to tell you that I came home from the hospital the next day ready to be dependent on my family, on God. I’d love to tell you that I was a humble patient, quickly making the necessary changes to my life, modifying my schedule, and taking a much needed break from independence.

That’s not what happened, though. Even with my foot in a makeshift cast and a pair of wobbly crutches, I tried to be independent, clinging to control of my life and household.

Being still and knowing God

Two weeks later, I fell again. This time I lost my balance on my crutches, fell backwards, and cracked my head open against the wall. That night I was scared to death to go to sleep for fear I wouldn’t wake up. I badly wanted to sleep, but fear gripped my every breath.  

As I sat in our dark family room alone, crying and fighting sleep, God spoke mightily to me. I realized I needed to let go of all I was clutching so tightly and just be still while God took care of me -- and others took care of my to-do list.

“Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10 NLT)

There was really nothing else I could do but be still. I couldn’t put any weight on my foot. I couldn’t walk without a walker. I couldn’t stand, even to brush my teeth. I couldn’t volunteer, so I lost self-fulfillment. I couldn’t drive, so I couldn’t work and earn income. I couldn’t even carry a cup of coffee.

My mom cleaned our house, washed our laundry, and did most of the homeschooling. My husband cooked our meals, paid our bills, did the grocery shopping, and took care of the kids. They both did everything I was used to doing myself, plus they took care of me. They lifted me into the shower, washed my hair, dried my wet back, dressed me, and helped me into and out of bed.

There was no independence left for me. I was fully dependent on them for every physical need and completely dependent on God for every spiritual need.

I sat in that armchair with my foot up every day for nearly three months. And in the painkiller-induced haze, God spoke right to my heart. He showed me how I was not living the life He meant for His children to lead. He didn’t create us to be independent. He created us to live in community with Him and with others. He created us to depend on Him and to depend on each other.

“Share each other's burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2 NLT)

A new life unfolding  

That was almost six months ago. I still walk with a limp. Most elderly people walk faster than I do now. Going down the stairs hurts so much that I wince with each tread.

But, sometimes, I pray that the limp doesn’t ever go away, that some part of the pain stays so that I won’t forget to be dependent on God and on His people.

Through my injury, I cleared off my too-full plate and learned to wait for God to show me the next thing to do. I’ve become dependent on Him to get me through each day and dependent on His people to build me up. I’ve learned -- and am still learning -- to trust Him to reveal the next step. And what I see is a new life unfolding before me, one without self-reliance, hurry, busyness and fierce independence.

“But those who trust in the LORD will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31 NLT)

Have you had a physical set-back that left you dependent on friends and family? How did it make you feel? 

Has there been a time in your life where you were more dependent on God than you are now? Why?

Kristy Rose is a Gen X homeschooling mom who sells Avon to support her writing habit. In 2006, God transplanted her to North Dakota. Moving to the state her great-grandparents homesteaded in 1903 and the ensuing adventures on the prairie have deepened her faith and given her a heart-felt understanding of God's amazing mercy and grace. You can get her take on pretty much everything at throughrosecoloredglasses.weebly.com. Read more JOY Blog posts by Kristy.