When I was five, I managed to snap my left wrist by slipping off the monkey-bars of my backyard swing-set. I don’t remember much, past the decent sized “goose egg” that instantly appeared on the side of my arm and the itchy pink cast that soon covered it. It wasn’t a particularly traumatic experience, aside from missing my first season of park league softball, but just the same, it wasn’t one I particularly hoped to ever relive – especially while on the World Race!
Apparently I should stay away from playground equipment…
Seeking some alone time with the Lord, I wandered to a beachside park and planted myself in a swing. No one was anywhere nearby, so with complete abandon I kicked off the ground and began to sing at the top of my lungs, pumping my legs for higher and higher altitude with each swing. Before long I was eye level with the swinging bar, awed by a phenomenal view of Lake Malawi in front of me and belting out various choruses of my favorite Southern Gospel lyrics. Smack in the middle of a song, I felt myself begin to slip backward out of the metal seated swing (note to self – don’t wear slick Thai pants to the park!) Instinct kicked in and I tried to pull myself back up, but literally in a matter a seconds I was too far back to recover and I slipped completely out of the swing, my landing forcing my left wrist to double over itself.
At first I didn’t notice anything to do with my arm; I was too busy fighting to regain my breath. When I went to get up, however, I realized there was a problem. Both sides of my left wrist had begun to swell and bruise. All I could think was, “Lord, you have got to be kidding me!”
A mixture of anger and embarrassment stirred within me as I tucked my tail between my legs and trudged the short walk back to where my Squad Leaders, Claire and Becky, sat waiting for me. “Guys, I have an interesting request,” began my urgent desire for prayer. Instantly Becky laid hands (I winced) and began to pray healing over me, proclaiming wellness and alignment of the bone. Prayers said, the two of them went into nurse mode, finding ice, calling my contact, getting a taxi, etc. Bless them, I don’t handle being babied very well.
Within a few hours, my contact, Marie, had me splinted and in a sling, and I was rendered basically helpless. Talk about humbling, and I was mad about it. I love being able to take care of others, and I really value being able to take care of myself. I want to be able to handle anything that’s thrown at me. I find it hard to accept love through others doing things for me, but that’s exactly what I wound up with. Becky, my tent mate, spent the rest of the evening and the night to follow listening to me hiss every time I moved wrong or hit my limb, helping me crawl in and out of my tent, assisting me with changing, giving me medicine, etc, etc, etc. Seriously, the woman deserves a medal.
Pride has been a big struggle for me throughout my month in Malawi. It’s been hard to watch other people step up in leadership roles – the enemy almost always tells me that I could do it better or that they feel the need to step up because they don’t think I’m good enough. I’ve likewise been prideful in thinking that while I’ve been watching others around me work through personal trials and difficulties, I have nothing of my own to deal with. I’ve been prideful in thinking that I deserve attention and that I am worthy of praise. Honestly, it’s no wonder God chose to humble me.
Fortunately, after visiting three Malawian hospitals, x-rays proved that my wrist is, in fact, not broken! After several days of soreness, and having to allow myself to waited on and loved by teammates, contacts and friend, I’m essentially back to normal, although I’ve committed to basically steering clear of playgrounds for quite some time.
As far as the pride thing goes, I’m learning that it’s a daily choice to walk in humility. It’s my choice to allow people to love me, to serve me and care for me. It’s my choice to lay my own ambitions and desires aside, and to be genuinely happy when others are raised up in leadership. It’s my choice to admit when I am weak and to seek the Lord in those moments of brokenness.
“He who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exhaled.” Matthew 23:12
Be Blessed,
Ashlee
