Griping and Gratitude
Can I just gripe a little?
Three-and-a-half years ago, my left heel started hurting. It was shortly after I had begun running more than usual and on hills. Maybe the hills were the culprit? Wouldn’t you know it, as soon as I get just a taste of that insane phenomenon they call “runner’s high” and start to actually enjoy going for an impromptu run, I’m sidelined with an injury – diagnosed with plantar fasciitis.
I remember the timeframe vividly because it coincided with our first Adventure Sisters trip – to Zion National Park to hike the Narrows. We conquered the Narrows on day one, and my foot was extremely mad at me. Day two – I literally hiked up and down the mountain on my left tiptoes because my heel was yelling at me so loudly.
Since that time, I have done physical therapy, Graston technique (think butter knife scraping the bottom of your foot until you cry), rolling the infamous frozen water bottle on the foot, stretching, strengthening, resting, icing, orthotics, inserts, heel pads, acupuncture, Birkenstocks (and other shoes I thought were butt ugly until I discovered they were comfortable), and a night splint. Two cortisone shots over the years worked wonderfully – for exactly six months each. Finally, on October 14 last year, I pulled out the big guns and underwent a platelet-rich plasma procedure. This was supposed to remind my chronically inflamed fascia ligament that it was indeed injured (apparently it had forgotten) and trigger a healing response that would make everything better.
I’m at four months post-procedure, and my fascia ligament must still be in denial that it is injured because it has not cooperated in healing itself – not one bit.
At this point, I would eat worms and bathe in bat poo if I thought it would make my foot better.
On top of that, I’ve been battling reflux since about December. Oh, and now my right ear keeps doing weird things, like it’s stopped up and needs to pop. So annoying!
Yesterday as I started my hot yoga session, ruminations on heartburn, foot pain, and ear troubles filled my headspace. A few minutes into the sweating and down-dogging, my focus began to shift. I detached a bit from my grumblings. Gratitude became my word. Grateful for health -- the ability to eat, to move, to breathe deeply. I toyed with the idea that maybe I could peacefully co-exist, at least to some degree, with my maladies. “Accept the things I cannot change…”
Losing Chandler put a lot of things in perspective for me. Some matters I would have considered monumental are now miniscule. But just because my world got turned upside down, doesn’t mean the force of gravity has been suspended. I’m still living in a world where heavy stuff happens. Some heavier, of course, than others. I simply haven’t achieved a level of sainthood at which griping about crappiness has dropped out of my repertoire. I will say I’m getting better at, as my preschool teacher friends say, redirecting. The best way I’ve found is through gratitude.
People say you can’t complain and be grateful at the same time. I disagree. I think it’s totally possible to gripe about things that are gripe-worthy and still manage to maintain a sense of gratitude. In fact, sometimes the very thing I’m griping about can become a catalyst for a mindshift toward gratefulness.
Yes, my foot hurts. That’s real. And I’m just so darn sick of it. But I’m also so very grateful that I can walk and dance and balance for tree pose.
Yes, I wish I didn’t feel like a frog was stuck in my esophagus. But I’m also grateful that I can taste and savor good food. Like the unforgettable peanut butter cup pancake Charli and I shared this morning at Snooze Eatery.
And yes, I really do want my ear to pop so it doesn’t feel like I’m in a submarine. But I’m also grateful that I can hear music and podcasts and the voices of my husband and my kids.
God, even when I’m in pain or in a situation I’m just sick of, please help my heart continually return to gratitude. You are not scandalized or offended by my humanity—that when I hurt, I say so. Yet it is also no excuse for neglecting to say “thank you.“ Amen.
