I fell, freaking, again. It was the first Friday of ministry in Nepal and I biffed it big. My ankle was on fire and I began to cry and as most wounded animals, I lashed out at those trying to help me. In a whirlwind of moments my teammate Scott had flagged down a taxi and he, Paige, and I were on the way to Alka Hospital. After much examination, many medical terms, and subdued laughter, I was on my way home. The most upsetting part of the day was not that I had been put into a heinous salmon colored-cast for the next two weeks, but that as I waited for crutches at the pharmacy the granola bar that I had taken a bite of fell out of the wrapper onto the ground and I could not pick it up. This moment was one of many in which i would feel pitiful and lame.
When we returned home, the spectacle of climbing a flight of stairs ensued. HILARIOUS. I got settled in my room and my teammates took care of me. This was a completely bizarre experience. I was so used to taking care of myself that I was actually getting irritated at those who were using their free time to take care of me that first day; especially when they followed me to the bathroom in case I couldn’t make it over the step by myself. I was in awe this month of the service of my team. I was never forgotten or neglected. I was truly humbled by the love my squad mates had for me. The knowledge that it is necessary to lean on those around you and the ability to live that truth are crucial on this race and on the walk with God. This month was a month of dependence; I learned that strength is not always leaning on your own character and abilities, but also on the character and abilities of those who love you.
