The splint on my arm is gone. The skin is still hyper sensitive to touch, having been swaddled for seven weeks. But the bones are healed, and I am gently asking them to hold their own when opening doors, and carrying groceries. 

The break was a turning point, making it obvious that I had to be proactive about reclaiming strength. It was the catalyst to both start doing yoga, and stay away from sugar. 

With the perspective of just a few months, I can let go of the self pity I dabbled in, and see how the inconvenience was the push I needed. 

The other day Benjamin was laughing as he watched a familiar video. I paused to just drink it in. He is in a stable place, and has been for six years. But amnesia has not swallowed up the memory of darker days, when emotions roiled inside him. Things had to get out of control before we cried uncle. 

Maybe there are times when we can recognize the urgent need for change, even in the comparative safety of mild discomfort. But in my life, I am grateful for those times when God steps in to give me a break. 

"Hear my cry, O God;
Attend to my prayer.
From the end of the earth I will cry to You,
When my heart is overwhelmed;
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I." Psalm 61