A Plastic Bottle

It was Thursday afternoon--a week ago--and school had just let out about 30 minutes before.  I needed to go see a teacher about something, and I found him around the edge of the parking lot in front of the school, where the students wait for the bus.  After asking my question, I turned and started back toward the office.  Without looking down, I stepped off the two-foot retaining wall, as I have done a thousand times or so.  But this time, my left foot landed on an empty plastic bottle.  The bottle was too sturdy to crush beneath my foot, so instead...my foot was crushed, basically.  It rolled under me, causing my foot to roll the wrong direction, dislocating and fracturing it. Not that I really knew that at the time.  I was sitting their stunned, and had heard a little bit of laughter (it IS pretty funny to see someone fall), but when they realized I wasn't getting up right away, the kids started asking if I was ok.  I told them to get the teacher, because I thought I'd broken my ankle.  The teacher came over and started checking my right ankle.  I was trying to tell him it was the other one, but my words were starting to fade.  Finally, I pulled back my skirt and heard a collective gasp as everyone saw my left ankle.  It was pretty disgusting to look at.  (See the picture below).


Over the next few minutes, a little crowd of students and staff gathered, as Arcee, our 8th grade teacher with a nursing degree, and my roommate, Lorraine, and a few others sprang into action.  Soon there was coconut oil being spread over my foot, and then a bag of ice, and a pillow to elevate it.  As I laid there, I remember looking at the clouds and asking God to take care of me, because I had no idea what was ahead.  He gave me the most amazing peace during that time, and I was able to talk with the students and others who were around, and not focus on the pain.  Someone had called the ambulance, but the hospital said it wasn't available.  So our own white van was converted into an ambulance, and Jesse, the 2nd grade teacher (the only one besides me and the principal who can drive stick shift--oh, and the principal was in town) was converted into an ambulance driver.  They put a mattress in the middle of the van, and then carefully loaded me up--did a very good job too, not too painful.  Jesse was a great driver and avoided all the potholes.  I'm quite sure I would have been in more pain in the ambulance.


When I got to the hospital, they loaded me onto a stretcher (which WAS a bit painful), then wheeled me into a nice, air conditioned room.  My biggest question to everyone around me was...am I going to feel it?  I knew by this point it was probably dislocated, and they were going to have to "re-position" it, which I did want--but I was a bit scared that someone was just going to come in while I wasn't looking, grab my foot, yank it into place, and I would pass out.  I just wanted to make sure they knew I wanted to pass out BEFORE I felt the pain, not afterward. They assured me that would be the process.  They started me off with a little Demoral through the IV, followed by Fenegrin for good measure.  Then they started the paperwork, which I wasn't very helpful with, but somehow we made it through.  I was very glad that Lorraine the Roommate, Arcee the Nurse, and Raian the Principal were all there to make sure I was ok.  But I was a little embarrassed later as I was coming to, realizing I'd been chatting away about who knows what while I was under the influence of heavy drugs.  Thankfully, it was worth it, because the doctor got my foot straight again.  Praise the Lord!  Actually, it was probably a miracle, and thanks to the coconut oil, because my foot should have been too swollen to move it back into place without cutting it open. But it wasn't swollen, thankfully.


I finally woke up from what seemed like a crazy dream, and found myself in a Yap hospital room.  Friends came in and out to visit, and then eventually things settled down for the night, and Sophie, the Student Missionary, stayed with me.  She did a great job of making sure I had everything I needed, and listened patiently to my random comments (probably thanks to the morphine, but also thanks to feeling so thankful that my foot was straight). She even put up with sleeping on the hard floor!


By Friday afternoon, I was back in my apartment, and starting to to face the reality of a casted foot and crutches in my second-story apartment.  Since then, it's been a journey--pretty much one day at a time, learning to trust that God knows what He's doing, and that I am here for a purpose.  It's sometimes easy to lose sight of that, because I feel like I am doing no one any good sitting in my apartment, trying to find things I can do from here, which isn't much.  Why did I come all the way back to Yap just to be taken care of again?  Am I ever going to actually help in the office or do so many other things I would love to do?  Am I more of a liability here than a help?  These have been some of the questions going through my brain over the last few days.  Here are some things that have helped me so far:


1. Focusing on God's bigger plan and His ability to get me through and teach me--by reading Scriptures that remind me of these things.
2. About 30 minutes  before I messed up my foot, I asked God what He wanted me to really focus on now that I was back in Yap.  I distinctly felt Him telling me to pray.  So now I have lots of time to do that, and it gives me purpose.
3.  Focusing on things to be thankful for.
4.  Learning the importance of "being" rather than just "doing."  My dad reminded of this in an email recently, and he was right.  I am so used to measuring myself and others--especially in the mission field--by what we can do, not simply for just existing.  So I am asking God to help me to "be" and I am noticing that I am starting to see others in this way too.
5.  Get well cards from students. So far I've gotten them from the 4th, 6th, and 8th graders.  I even got to meet for a little bit with my old class this week, the 4th graders, and had so much fun talking with them, and at the end of our time, their prayers for my healing melted my heart.


Tomorrow I go back to the hospital for a check-up to see how it's healing, and if I need screws put in...And the adventure continues. :)




"We have troubles all around us, but we are not defeated.  We do not know what to do, but we do not give up the hope of living.  We are persecuted, but God does not leave us.  We are hurt sometimes, but we are not destroyed."  (2 Cor. 4:8-9)

Here it is, in all its glory.