footsteps

I don’t think about my son’s legs anymore.  But there was a time when they consumed much thought, active care, worry and despair.  My son was born with spina bifida and club feet.  His little frog shaped legs had to be straightened through serial casting – that is a “series” of castings, 16 to be exact – between his birth and the time he was 20 months old.

Unlike most toddlers, he didn’t clutch my hips with his legs because of his paralysis and his legs hung heavy and limp when I carried him.  As he grew they became more weighty in more ways than one; they became a health risk.  Finally at some point in his early 20’s,  (funny I can’t even remember when,) he had them amputated.

I regret not saying good bye to those legs.

When the woman came to me at the foot washing station in church on Maundy Thursday, raised her pant legs and uncuffed the velcro of the brace around her calf, memories  flooded back.  Tears were in her eyes for this vulnerability she was revealing and tears were in mine for her trust and remembering. image

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4 responses to “footsteps

  • fireflytrails

    This is a beautiful expression of your love for your son, your sorrow for his hardships, your own emotions, and your compassion for others. So much to ponder and pray about here.

  • mrssurridge

    Oh wow! This made tears come to my eyes, too. What an amazing connection you two had. And lovely. You probably understood her more than if someone else would have been in your place. What a gift to both of you.

  • Tricia Ebarvia

    What a moving piece and beautiful way to express your love for your son. I like to think that it was the work of some higher power that brought you and that woman together. An intimate moment made more meaningful…

  • Carol T

    What a beautiful moment the two of you shared. Your compassion comes through in your writing. I hope you had a joyous and blessed Easter.

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