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But God…you promised Joy!
2022 was a low year for me. A nagging foot injury that began in late 2021 was not resolving and as an athlete who needs a good run and loves to hike, continual foot pain threatened to steal my joy, dominate my thoughts, and turn my confidence into a limp. I use runs to reset. My mind clears and I find perspective. Months and months, turning into years without my purge valve was taking a toll on my mental health.
When I saw pictures of myself smiling I often wondered if I would ever find that smile again. As 2022 closed and my injury started a second year of its battle for my joy, I limped into 2023 and God whispered, “You will find your joy in 2023”. I held on to that, skeptically, but knowing our God is one who follows through on His promises, a flicker of hope began.
The months ticked by. I started running again. I started tasting freedom from chronic pain. Hikes filled my spring Saturdays, like a mirage that felt like it would disappear like a vapor if I ever believed that this injury was truly healed. And as feared, in early June it came back with a vengeance, threatening to steal my joy all summer.
A summer where both adult children joined us for a two month road trip through the Bitterroot valley of Montana; Stanley, Idaho; Oregon; and backpacking in the high Sierras in Eastern California should have been full of joy. And yet, the stubborn limp, painful foot, and the unknown of how bad it was hijacked my thoughts while replacing joy with sadness and worry. Many days it cooperated enough to afford me a day hike with the family but running was off the table and I carried with me the label of injured for the second summer in a row. An epic summer that was truly special had a dark cloud over it.
“But God, you promised this year I would find my joy” I would plead with God. “The year is not over daughter, be patient, it’s coming,” I would hear. And sometimes that would spark a little hope to my weary heart.
Chronic pain is exhausting. An unknown diagnosis of what it was sent my mind to worst case scenarios often. When we had to turn around during our last backpacking trip in the Sierras a few days early because my ankle started to hurt too much to continue, my husband insisted that I get an MRI and finally find out what was wrong. The entire hike out images of MRI appointments, follow ups indicating I needed surgery, and months of rehab convinced me of my fate. But strangely, after taking 2 Advil my ankle stopped hurting for the rest of the two day hike out and in that time we learned that a hurricane was hitting southern California and it was advised to vacate the wilderness. Which is what we did, on a gorgeous blue sky sunny day, 2 days earlier than planned. If we would not have turned around, we would have been trapped as all roads to the trailhead were damaged and closed, flash flooding was everywhere in the area, and the storm was torrential for days.
For the first time, my foot pain was actually helpful and protected us. It really didn’t hurt much for days after that and I began to try running for the first time in two months. Pain wasn’t gone. Limping wasn’t resolved. It was just a bit better.
But where was the Joy? My spirit was still limping along like my foot. Weak smile. Not deep joy. Joy that comes in the trenches was my longing but eluded me.
On a 4 hour road trip in October my car started smoking, shaking, and threw the engine light on. All indicators pointed to a blown head gasket – sending my car into a not worth anything category in a split second. We had it towed back home. Simultaneously, my daughter’s special and most loved dog was throwing up and not doing well. An ER visit turned into a $6000 emergency surgery to remove multiple objects she had eaten. And in the midst of all of this chaos, God spoke clearly to my heart and gave me this word: “Anticipation”. I let that hang for a few minutes and then he added “Wait and see”.
As I pondered those words, my spirit underwent a transformation from fearing the future and feeling dread when considering the future to hopeful anticipation as I waited and saw what God was going to do. Dread turned to hope.
Circumstances didn’t change. What happened?
My soul finally believed deeply and received the message of God, the Good News: God with us. It is the secret talked about in Philippians 4 – that in the highs and in the lows and in every circumstance we can abound in peace and joy because through Christ we can do all things with His strength.
We can choose joy in these hard times because the Good News is that He is with us. And He goes before us. He is the one in the future, working things out for good. The dreadful worst case scenario without God is not what the future is.
Fear and faith are on the same coin and both are the way we are looking towards the future. With fear we are projecting ourselves into the eye of the future storm, without God, hopeless to weather the storm. Faith looks at the future with anticipation of God’s hand in it all, waiting in hopeful expectation of what He would do.
In the midst of a super tough set of circumstances which included a continuing painful foot, the embers of joy were lit.
As the days rolled on, our dog’s surgery was fully paid for by donations to our Go Fund me page, my car was diagnosed with an easy $180 problem, and X-rays showed that my foot was good.
But God chose to deliver me to a place of joy and peace before any resolutions were seen. That in the midst of the valleys, I would know Him as He goes with me. That His joy fills us to overflowing and is not connected to circumstances. The God of hope filled me with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit I abounded in hope (Romans 15:13).
Getting to know friends again after Covid
I spent the afternoon with dear friends catching up. Mask free and vulnerable. And- surprise- Covid was not the only thing that happened this last year.
Like a train slowly gaining speed, our conversation gained depth and authenticity. Tears flowed. Because this year was hard. So hard that when we look back many of us will hardly remember Covid happened cause the real issues of life overshadowed it all.
So here’s the deal. We need each other. Humanity needs to remember how to unmask, be vulnerable, be real, and love well. The friends that fell off the table because they weren’t in the safe bubble still need you. The acquaintances that you checked in with, smiled at, and offered a small part of you, need you. Even the random strangers that you’d meet, when mask free that caught your eye and shared a smile with, need you.
I was in the grocery store today and passed an unmasked shopper, we briefly caught each others eyes, smiled and kept going. Shared humanity in that moment and it was energizing after a year of vacant stares over a mask.
It’s time to get back to humaning. Yep. It’s a new word. You heard it here first.
Go call a friend and cry and laugh over iced tea. It’s time to restore what has been lost.
Maybe the athlete is born on the sidelines
Sweat dripping. Muscles straining. The final push.
These are the moments that define athletes. I can feel those moments as I write this. The last leg of a race when the mind and body battle for dominance: one wants to collapse and one won’t give up until the finish line is crossed.
Or it’s the last quarter and your team is losing, morale is low but you find that inner grit to keep your head in the game, your energy strong, and your attitude positive.
The athlete is born when the results of a hard fought race are called and all your work pays off as you finish in the top tier, cheeks bright red from exertion, heart still pumping and eyes bright as you proudly let it all sink in.
Or is that when the athlete is born?
Perhaps instead, the athlete is born on the sidelines. The injured athlete who has months and months of watching others on the field while they wait, in an altered timeline where time ticks by so slowly as it is measured by incremental improvements that take weeks and months to see.
Perhaps the athlete is born when they crutch in to physical therapy and spend an hour engaging in tedious exercises and countless days between appointments at home, separated from the team, the competition, the endorphins, doing hours of pt rehab.
It’s in these dark times where either the athlete emerges or doesn’t. Grit and determination decides this outcome. For those with grit, those with determination, those with focus will dig deep and do what they need to do every single day to cross this finish line strong, ready, healed, prepared, and rearing to go. These are the ones who emerge stronger than before both physically and mentally.
I have been on both sides of this journey. I have pushed hard up hills in exhausting races. I have trained hard, pushed hard, and cried much. And I have also been injured and on the receiving end of the news: hang up your shoes, you aren’t running for probably a year. And on January 1st, 2020 I came in first overall in a 5K race as I saw stars, crossing the finish line completely spent. Which was harder? Which required me to dig in deepest? By far, the year spent in recovery from a torn plantar fascia.
I have watched my daughter go from tearful cries of “I can’t do this!” to daily decisions to spend the hour or more needed on her pt rehab. In the middle of the recovery, the end still felt so far away but each day she would still make the choice to set the sadness and depression aside and get back on her new game of rehab.
So last week when we had her 6 month appointment with the surgeon, she sat nervously waiting for his entrance. Nerves turned to elation as he eventually concluded that she is at the top of the recovery curve, able to do things most can’t at 6 months and that her dedication to her physical therapy exercises was very evident.
“You are cleared”, he confidently pronounced.
And she beamed. She beamed as big and proud as she did the day she killed it at her Nordic ski state meet, coming in 14th in the state as a first year member of the team. Dare I say, she beamed even brighter.
And then when we got in the car, the emotions over took her. The 8 months of sadness, dread, and disappointment was now behind her and tears began to flow. The huge payoff from months and months and months of determination to never give up even when the end seemed so far away had arrived. The dam of emotions she stoically held at bay were now free to be released. And the outflow was strong and so good. Tears mixed with laughter mixed with more tears filled the car with 8 months of pent up emotions.
“It’s been so hard mama.”
“But you did it sweetie. You did it!”
“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?! I really did.”
Sitting in that car that day, I had a front row seat in the biggest sporting venue I will ever have the privilege of attending, for that day, I watched as an athlete was born.
5 things to do when injured – and yes, it starts with grieving
Humans value our independence. That independence begins when your feet hit the ground and can take you where your heart pulls you.
We value our freedom. I feel it best when my ponytail is flapping in the wind, sweat is dripping off my forehead, and my world becomes all about my shoes hitting the trail. Maybe you feel that freedom when you slam a soccer ball into a goal or stop a running play at the 10 yard-line. Maybe for you it’s hearing the swoosh of the ball in a basket or the sound your shifter makes when you gear down to climb a hill on your mountain bike.
When injury takes that from any of us, even though we know it’s just temporary, it hits hard, knocking the wind out of the fiercest athlete. I’ve been there. And those first days and weeks time really seems to stop. The…
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Check out my new blog for injured athletes: “Sidelined”
https://athletesidelined.wordpress.com/
When the crowds stop cheering and the athlete is sidelined, grief can be overwhelming. Come visit this new blog to be encouraged, join the community, gain some insight, and share your own story.
Either you’ve been injured or you know someone who is or has been. Please share this blog and help build a community!
Powerful encouragement for the injured
Friends rallied around us when Bekah got hurt. One dear friend came over with this letter, flowers for Bekah, wine for me and it has been something I have read over and over throughout this process.
May it encourage you too if you find yourself sidelined with an injury.
Sweet Bekah,
There are times when we find ourselves fully in our joy doing what we love, and then fully in misery. It comes abruptly, unexpectedly, and when the swelling of reality sets in it can feel like the injury is too much to contain. There is more rent within us than connective tissue; of this we can be sure.
You might be questioning whether the work towards, and happiness for, your dreams can sustain the juxtaposition of these two opposites (joy and misery) and the palpable disillusionment that can ensue. It doesn’t seem right that love, even for sport, can exist with so much suffering -that ability and injury go hand in hand. This is normal.
I see your pain. I feel your heart. I know the tedious journey ahead.
My Dad once wrote me a letter when, at the beginning of my first collegiate season, I tore my ACL. I was devastated. He reminded me that there is a falling that can be utterly brutal to come to terms with. I’ll be with you in this reckoning, empathizing with you from the cheap seats or down on the field if you call me near. But there also will come – and I’m reluctant to say this so soon as if to gloss pass present pain – arising, and I’ll root you on in your greatest, courageous comeback.
Mourn your loss.
And then, when it’s time, remember your victories.
Godspeed, precious lamb.
You just tore your ACL! Why that’s the perfect time to go on an epic road trip!
Trailer was already packed. Her ACL was gone. We had cried for days. But why let a 1 inch part of your body stop all the fun. We are a family that adventures together. We thrive on spending intentional time, together, in the mountains. This ACL tear was not going to stop that. In fact, we all needed it even more. With a 6 to 9 month recovery ahead, waiting a month to do the surgery wasn’t going to matter. We were trading July for January.
It was our last summer trip with Cade – who is now graduated and heading off to college. He quit his job at a local bike shop – a job he loved – to spend a month on the road with us. So we headed north and savored Teton National Park, West and East Glacier National Park, Coeur d’alene and Stanley, Idaho. Epic.
Here’s the deal. I pretty much teared up every day. Every. Single. Day. The impending ACL surgery at the end of the summer, Cade moving out, Bekah spending her Junior year recovering…it would all bombard me at some point in the day. Too many emotions. I’d let myself cry for 5 to 10 minutes, look around, take it in, smile again, and embrace the rest of the day. Puzzling for sure as I was also so deeply happy to be together in these gorgeous places with the people I love so much.
But here’s what I learned:
You can be sad but that doesn’t mean you are only defined by sad. Nor does it mean you are a “sad person”. Sad and happy can occupy your heart at the same time. It really can. I stopped fearing the tears and just let them happen. Usually daily. And then I’d get on with my day.
We spent the summer hiking (less than normal but still hiking!), going on long bike-rides (Bekah, with only one ACL, biked 20 to 30 miles often), paddle-boarding under breathtaking landscapes, laughing, talking, dreaming. The guys did insane mountain biking days in Jackson, WY; Whitefish, MT; Kellogg, Id; and Stanley, ID. Stokage was happening. Bekah was laughing. Cade was hooting as he hit mountain bike jumps. Cory was beaming as he captured glorious sunsets on a ripped landscape. And I was taking it all in, my heart bursting with thankfulness.
What we generally were not is plugged in to any digital devices that would distract us from the moments at hand. It’s probably the singular most important part of our adventures.
We unplug and reconnect. It’s just how we have always rolled and when adversity hit, we just hung tighter together and did our thing. And it worked.
The subtle lie of Fear
For years I have been aware of the very real possibility of our daughter tearing her ACL. Skiing, soccer, tennis – all risky to the knee sports. Lateral movements that can go wrong in a simple misstep and girls tear their ACL 7 times more often than boys do.
Guess what? Fear of this happening did not prevent a thing.
It happened. It actually happened.
Fear lies to us. It tells us that if we fear something, we somehow can control the outcome. It’s an illusion.
And the opposite of this fear is faith. I begged God for faith. I did not know, in the weeks after she tore her ACL, how to cross the bridge from fear to faith. I was drowning in anxiety over her upcoming surgery, the year that would follow, and how she would be able to cope.
And then I read Phillipians 4. I have read this many times but this time it gave me the formula:
Do not be anxious about anything (easier said than done…but how do I do this!?) This is how
prayer + thanksgiving + requests to God = the Peace of God, which transcends understanding
So if we intentionally focus on what we are thankful for first we can then come before Him with requests and then anxiety will be replaced with peace!
So I started practicing this. Honestly, it was just going through the motions at first but I wrote it all down in a journal and believed the peace would come because He said it would. I did this day after day and my grip of fear around my daughter is slowly being released.
In it’s place images of her shining through this are starting to flood my heart. I now know that she will surprise me with her resilience. She will also need me to just hold her or support her when she once again has moments when she feels like she can’t do it – and I can do that too.
But she will rise from those low points. She will find strength she didn’t know she had and maybe even surprise herself.
HOPE SPRINGS
Finding hope in trials
The thing is, I spent years aware that our daughter, being a soccer player, was 7 times more likely than male soccer players to tear her ACL. I talked to PTs over the years about ways to prevent it. The day I met her now coach, I spent 15 minutes in conversation with him over how he structures practices and trainings to strengthen the girls to prevent knee injuries – 15 minutes after that conversation, Bekah called me. I needed to come get her. She hurt her knee. One week later the MRI would confirm – completely torn ACL and meniscus.
Sucker punch to the gut. It was literally the first morning of summer. Our fifth wheel was packed for an eight-week summer adventure. The last family trip with our son before he left for college. It was difficult to not spend those first weeks focusing on all she lost –
A summer of backpacking….she lives for our weeks on the trail. She needs them.
Her junior year of soccer and Nordic ski team and tennis and….
In shock, truly for weeks. Her desperate sobs all the way home from the doctor: ” I can’t do this again…mom, I can’t. I just can’t!!!” made it all seem so unfair. So foreboding. Just two years earlier, she sat on the sidelines for her entire 8th grade year with double stress fractures in her heels due to growing so fast. No sports. No running. No jumping. No playfulness really. We had two seasons since then where she could play and vibrantly embrace the epic high of scoring on the soccer field, being part of a team, the euphoria of a nordic ski race.
It’s all too recent, still so raw. And in an instant, her carefree joy as an athlete, the break from the tedious nature of school work, has been, once again, put on pause. A six to nine month pause.
But I write this after the shock has passed. After the anger has passed. I suppose we’re all in the acceptance phase now and within this lens, God’s voice is breaking through. I was too panicky – too horrified – in those first weeks to hear Him. But His quiet whispers beckon me to stop focusing on loss and switch to a focus on blessings.
We are strong. She is strong.
We are healthy. She is healthy.
We can do this. She can do this.
HOPE SPRINGS
From gratefulness – hope peeks it’s head, like a tiny purple crocus after a harsh winter. HOPE.
Is this still hard? YES. So hard. Watching her in her full leg brace crutch her way to her team dinner last night hurt. She smiled to her teammates as she said goodnight and got in my car but oh how I miss when her smile lit up her eyes. It will return.
The glacial ice that sits on us slowly carves a new and stunning valley. In the spring when the snow melts and the grandeur of the work of this glacier is revealed in our daughter who will be transformed by this, will be nothing short of stunning.
Who she is becoming because of this will be beautiful.
How a brick wall was the best kind of friend my son could have
It was the second week in a row that I saw my third grade son at the school I taught at, kicking a soccer ball into the brick wall – all alone. That wall was his soccer buddy – it passed the ball back to him in predictable ways and kept Cade running to return it. He saw me crossing the playground and stopped for a second, all sweaty and all smiles he came bounding towards me, “Hi mama!!”. He gave me a big hug and went back to his brick wall.
That evening I decided it was time to check in with him about this curious behavior. Was he lonely? Did he have friends? It’s hard to see your kid hurt. It’s hard to see them suffer. Was he suffering? Was this normal behavior or a sign of something wrong?
“Cade, is everything Ok with you and your friends at school?” I hesitatingly inquired.
“Yeah mama, things are great!” was his eager response.
“But, I keep seeing you play by yourself. Don’t you want to play with your friends?”
“Well, I guess so…but they don’t want to play soccer!” My adult reasoning kicked in, interjecting that sometimes it’s nice just to join the group and play something we don’t like as much just so we can hang out and foster friendships.
Sound advice, right?
As the mom now of Cade, the 17 year old, I am not so sure that Cade didn’t have it right all along. Cade had a passion. Soccer gave him a natural high. From early on, his brain was addicted enough to his own natural highs that he didn’t necessarily need to have his friends approval, or even their company. He enjoyed his friends and if they wanted to hang out with him, they knew where to find him – kicking a soccer ball – but he didn’t waiver. He knew who he was. He knew what he loved. Period.
This kid is not a loner. He just got voted into his Senior Homecoming court with two other guys. His peers like him. His teachers like him. I like him!
As a 17 year old surrounded by the majority of kids in his life who are experimenting with vaping, marijuana, and alcohol he continues to be that same, like-able 3rd grade kid. His friends know they can find him flying down a trail on a mountain bike, kicking a soccer ball, or maybe even fly-fishing but they won’t find him getting stoned or drunk.
This kid is connected to his passions – his natural highs – his sense of self. He loves his friends but if necessary, he will go kick his soccer ball against a brick wall, by himself. And he’s OK with that. And I think other kids notice. They might try to get him to vape and attempt to make him think he will lose face if he doesn’t join them but then they watch him laugh with his contagious laugh as he says, “No way man. That stuff is not for me. And dude. You’re nuts to be doing that at all”.
Building resiliency in kids happens when they connect with their passions. The folks in Iceland have figured this out and have some of the lowest rates of teen drug use in the world. Icelandic female superstar athlete IngaDóra says of her countries success: “We learned through the studies that we need to create circumstances in which kids can lead healthy lives, and they do not need to use substances, because life is fun, and they have plenty to do – and they are supported by parents who will spend time with them.”
Natural High.org is a powerful resource that is empowering youth to find their natural highs and have the courage to live life well. They have celebrity videos filling their sites with mentors for kids that have chosen their passions over temporary highs and false escapes from reality. The lead singer from Switchfoot says of people that do drugs that they never say, “It’s been great. Things have worked out really well. I just do drugs and it’s awesome. There haven’t been any problems with it. NOONE ever says that! Ever!”
Checkout the Switchfoot video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_toaYKoUPhI
Talk to your kids! They need adrenaline. They need endorphins. They need natural highs. Turn off their devices. Get them outside doing LIFE! Loving life! Embracing life. Not comatose on their devices. Kids need to be sweating. They need to be dirty. They need to be breathing heavy from running and jumping and kicking balls.
Julie A. O'Neill 