For all those who I haven’t updated yet, I broke my ankle eight weeks ago in Zambia but I am home now (as of February 5th) for about a month so it can heal properly. Flying handicap was a dream. Not really, but it had it’s perks. I had a whole row to myself, wheelchair service around the airports, private lounges, free water, and extra friendly assistance from lot of strangers and airport employees.
Coming home has been an overwhelming and surreal experience I never thought would happen. I was bummed at the thought of missing a month on the Race and the opportunity of experiencing Namibia. But I was already missing out on a lot not being able to walk and all. So I made the tough decision to come home for a little while for proper healthcare, and physical therapy to get the strength back in my ankle. I was beyond bummed out. I tried to make myself excited for what life at home for a month would be. You know like, loads of food I haven’t eaten in forever like guac and tacos, some good chili, maybe even a donut. I would be able to sleep in my super comfy bed and wear my bathrobe after taking a bath. I’ll be able to see my friends and family and give them big hugs. I set so many high expectations!
Yeah the first couple days were GREAT! I was living large. My mom took great care of me. But after eating ALL the food I missed (and feeling a little sick after), sleeping in my bed, and all the other things I was looking forward to the excitement faded. My days were quickly filled with mundane questions like “how are you? And “how’s it feel to be home?” How many times could I say physical therapy and hours of TV were filling my days without feeling like I was missing out?
While home I have started to understand what my mother and the other World Race parents who are avid commenters and likers on social media go through each day. Like my mom, I wait for my friends to update their blog, status, and Instagram accounts… anything to feed my need to know what’s going on. I never realized how awesome our lives look on social media (rightfully so we are doing awesome and exciting things). But I’ve also realized my FOMO (fear of missing out) is growing with each Facebook status I like, or blog I read knowing I would be experiencing it myself if it wasn’t for my injury.
It is so interesting how God works though; at church this past Sunday (which I didn’t know how much I missed the normalcy of an American church service) Pastor Ryan was talking about how everything is meaningless. This perplexed me, “wow, everything I’ve done and am doing in life is actually meaningless.” Looks like I don’t need to graduate college. (JK mom)
The only reason anything in life is meaningful is because you bring purpose and meaning to it. God knew I needed to hear this. While I sit at home and think about the meaning of this moment in life of feeling like I’m missing out I realize I only feel like I’m missing out because I’m not bringing meaning to my circumstance. Meaning isn’t found in experience or knowledge. You can’t even find meaning, but we have to bring it to life. Pastor Ryan went on to say, “add a deeper meaning to life through every suffering.” God, you are so wild.
You will find purpose when you bring meaning to life. This unique experience of breaking my ankle while white water rafting in Africa has great significance behind it and I’ve learned a lot form it. I’ve experienced a community of love and care and learned the meaningfulness of having great people surrounding you to support, help, and just love you so well. Through his I’ve learned about how to suffer well and to make every moment count by bringing meaning to it. I’ve learned to cherish all the good and the days that bring more joy than others. I’ve embraced the challenges because it’s all meaningless unless we bring purpose to it.
