This morning I woke up with throb in my leg. I went downstairs and forgot about it while I toasted bread. Walking into the living room I started to tuck my left leg under me the way I often do, and the ache grabbed my attention. Having taken a class last fall about posture I knew that the way I carry my body plays a large role in how it feels.
I sat with both legs straight, the way the yoga instructor showed us. Amazingly, my body felt better.
Two of our adult kids were having a conflict. It had been stewing for over a year and somehow ignoring it wasn't helping. I listened to each of them last week, and expressed my appreciation for the parts they were contributing to a solution. Then they talked to each other. It was rough at first, but eventually they both felt heard and healing
began.
If there had been no pain, they might have ignored the rift, like a child with
congenital analgesia will overlook a gaping cut, or debris in her eye. But the pain is not the enemy. It is a messenger.
Just now one of the two week old chicks started chirping frantically in the other room. I went in to investigate and found
that she had gotten stuck to the duct tape holding up a branch for them to perch on. Gently I pulled it off, and held her while she calmed down. More than once I have been glad that chickens do not seem to hold grudges.
Pain is no stranger to marriage. But when I can manage to sit straight and listen as if I have something to learn, the underlying source has a chance to emerge. The appearance is that I do not want John to make noise. But the truth is I do not want
him to endure pain.
