Teardrops Through the Rain on the Window Pane

Tonight we made plans to grab blankets and snacks and go look at holiday lights with our daughter. I imagined like many of the places we’ve visited before that this would be a drive through event with accompanying music on a car radio station.

What I didn’t predict was the park, get hot chocolate and walk around portion available and highly sought after once the light show finished. It was cold, raining, and windy, and clearly, the one time I for sure needed my crutches, they were at home.

After trying to walk a little ways towards the shop, I turned around and retreated, knowing the cold damp air without any mobility aid would cause me excruciating pain for days. As I sat in the car waiting for the rest of the family to explore, find snacks and meet up with friends, I realized that looking through the blurry rain streaked windows has become much of a metaphor for how my life feels right now...

Just as I can make out the headlights and bodies of passing and parking cars, I can make out the lists of what and how I’m feeling - the things that have in recent days consumed me, coming out as either tears or silence - but it’s not clear enough to identify with specifics.

There’s a level of isolation too, sitting alone in the car in a packed parking lot, much like the last 3+ months that have been spent nearly entirely in my bedroom, and more often than not without company.

Here I was, in the dark car, so far lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even hear my daughter open her door and climb back into the car.

Tonight she helped me realize that this season is very much a reminder that it is often times impossible to both get what you want and have what you need.

I wanted my daughter to know I was excited to go look at lights with her - which I did get to do. And then, I know she was a little let down afterwards when I couldn’t walk around with her, but what my body needed was warmth and stability. I got one in the want column, and one in the need column. Overall it felt like a decent compromise - but inside I still felt a degree of disappointment and sadness.

Healing from a full ACL reconstruction surgery has placed a lot of limitations and obstacles in my pathway - some of which I’ve been able to creatively navigate around, and others have taught me that I sometimes have no choice but to stand still and wait - wait to get stronger, wait to have surgery, wait to be done with crutches, wait to walk again, wait to heal.

I’m not so good at waiting.

I’m not so patient when it comes to the things I desperately want.

This season has come with zero choice in that respect - without patience and rest, without icing and elevating and going to physical therapy, my knee will continue to radiate excruciating pain, and I will remain unable to do anything but watch the rain trickle down the window panes.

So, tonight we celebrate the little win.

We mourn the medium loss.

And tomorrow, we wake up and try again.