The parable of my meniscus

I left my cane somewhere … again.k2-_5fbaaf91-9a10-4dd2-a9ed-4c5101d8527b.v1
Things didn’t seem too bad
and I put it down,
but now my knee hurts
from my toes to my shoulder
and I retrace my steps
very, very slowly.

It’s a bit like Easter.
I often lean that up against lilies
bunnies and alleluia songs,
until one unexpected moment
I can barely stumble
back away from some loss –
a friend, a child,
a story in the news —
without its steadying.

Other times I cannot limp
out of a dead zone —
some relationship, addiction,
a zombie memory
feeding on my mind,
the broken place —
that does not let in the light.

I’m embarrassed
crutching at religious faith
and certain everyone suspects
I am going to burst out singing
“In the Garden”
in the subway or something.

It’s awkward, foolish
and reminds everyone,
me first,
that there are times of pain
when, without it,
I cannot walk.

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12 Responses to The parable of my meniscus

  1. Until some really strong meds kicked in to soothe my arthritic joints I became very familiar with my cane. Sometimes a flare-up will cause me to reach for it again. Today’s poem surely illustrates how we remember to lean on our Lord at our convenience. Thank you, again, for keeping Him close to us in our minds and hearts.

  2. Maren says:

    Thank you for your empathy.

  3. LL says:

    Preaching! Singing! Praying! I feel no pain until after the benediction. Then I limp to the rear of the sanctuary to find and lean on my cane. Throbbing during coffee hour, but grateful that the service took me away from the reminder of my pain and let me celebrate the conquest of pain and death!

  4. Maren says:

    The sunrise service on uneven ground in the cold with cloud cover was a … task, but still the joy in people’s faces — Christ is risen when the sunshines and when it doesn’t.

  5. Powerful words Maren! Thanks to a knee replacement in 2014, I no longer physically limp. Still Holy week and grief still fresh from last year had me in its clutch till I was able to put these words down:
    Ride it out March 23, 2016
    Day three of lethargy,
    stillness that feels empty not calm.

    In the beginning of this trend, I notice a flatness of spirit. I describe it as “blahness” but silently I know a deeper truth…

    I am on the edge of darkness,
    not as lovely as the night sky
    but one more ominous
    and long in coming…

    Words seem inept,
    joy seems muted…
    to be fair it is Holy Week,
    but that doesn’t explain my detachment…
    my inability to engage.

    Healing hands attend me,
    attempting to align my energies;
    Still a vagueness of soul remains

    How shall I weather these days
    of multi-layered grief?
    How shall I repair the loss?
    How shall I seek the light knowing the world around me offers chaos more than clarity?

    Shall terrorism prevail?
    Shall prejudice and violence
    “trump” civility?

    I try to say,
    “NO…Not on my watch!”
    But even so…prevailing winds offer no sign,as yet, that my sails will unfurl.

    Still, this prayer rises up…”steady as you go….trust the wind, seek the light…and remember to give thanks always and everywhere that life is precious beyond all telling!”
    So may it be…
    May life be gentle with you! Blessings, June

  6. Maren says:

    June, oh thank you for these words — for their depth, for their stark holy.

  7. says:

    Hi, Maren This poem makes me think of my walker.Without it I cannot walk at all. A beautiful analogyPat

  8. Maren says:

    Wonderful devices aren’t they — I refuse to live my life sitting down.

  9. Gail Orlando says:

    Maren, Your in our prayers. I hope you will soon be free from knee pain. Gail

  10. Maren says:

    Thanks so much!

  11. parentsfisher says:

    Oh, my goodness, I love this! And caught myself checking to see if my cane was where I’d dropped it. I keep thinking that pain is here to teach me something. I wish I could learn it quickly and then have it disappear as quickly as it came. And that “In the Garden” reference! Made me chuckle and made my Friday afternoon!

    • Maren says:

      Thanks so much! As I anticipate total knee replacement surgery, I imagine I will have a whole series “every knee shall bow” “Jacob limping away from the Jabbok, etc.

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