On Crutches: The Grace of a New Perspective

During Easter week of this year, on a rainy morning, I was stepping out of the office at my local auto repair place when I misjudged the step down to the street, twisted to the left, felt a crack, and ended up face down on my hands and knees. From the feel of things, it was serious. A couple of hours later, in the ER, my fears were confirmed: I had a hairline fracture of the bone in my ankle. Next step: a cast from my toes to my knees, for six weeks.

My time on crutches, followed by four weeks or so in a Velcro boot, forced a huge change in my routine. Suddenly, things seemed farther away, obstacles were everywhere, and stuff was always falling someplace I couldn’t reach. I lumbered along, unable to do some of the things that I would normally perform with speed. I was dependent on others to a greater degree than usual. I had to ask for help—something I do not like to do!

A get well note from a child at our parish school.

It wasn’t all that serious of an injury, but a cast is a cast, no matter the break it is mending. It was still a heavy, awkward weight to drag around, protect, and maneuver in and out of cars, buildings and crowds.  I was not always the most patient of patients—my community members at the friary occasionally were on the receiving end of my frustrations.

At the parish and here at St. Anthony Messenger Press, the crutches got me lots of sympathy, but the story’s retelling soon became old. To relieve the boredom, I even tried making up stories. My personal best was that I suffered an RCIA-related injury, attempting to dive into my parish’s baptismal font at Easter! Some folks even believed that one—for a while.

My brief time with cast and crutches, slowed down and burdened, can in no way be compared to those who must face some permanent, major obstacle to movement, speech, hearing or sight. But this period did immediately change my awareness. I began to see handicapped signs, to be frustrated with doors, sidewalks, bathrooms, and other things in the physical environment that can present barriers to those working with a disability. I tried to imagine the world from a different perspective. I am hoping that I’ve gained some new understanding.

Now, almost five months later, I am moving at nearly my usual quick pace. A mild ache in my toes and ankle reminds me of the injury, and I am careful about where I step. I haven’t forgotten. As I continue to heal, I wonder, however, if the reflecting I did on disabilities will stay with me. During my time on crutches, I began to take pride in my adaptations, my “abilities” within what earlier I would have described as “disability.” That awareness suggests to me a whole new way of defining who is or who is not “disabled” and what that even means.

My orthopedist is hopeful that I will walk more carefully. My confreres at the friary are no doubt glad I’m not hobbling in and out of their lives. My more reflective friends would like to see me more “mindful” of what I am doing. For myself, seeing the past five months as a real time of grace is an important reminder of how helpful it can be to gain a new perspective.

Fr. Greg Friedman, O.F.M., is a Franciscan priest who serves as Creative Director on the Media Production Team at St. Anthony Messenger Press, where he produces audio and video programs. He hosts American Catholic Radio, broadcast and streamed to over 70 Catholic radio stations and available on the Web at FranciscanMedia.org. Fr. Greg is also pastor of St. Francis Seraph Parish, a part of the Franciscans’ inner-city ministry in Cincinnati’s Over-the-Rhine area. blog comments powered by

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A New Perspective

I have a lot of favorite songs. Some I like for the pure fun of singing and dancing along to the melody and some I like because I feel a connection to the lyrics. One song that I like to turn up and sing along with is Francesca Battistelli’s This Is the Stuff. Every time I hear it, I try to take it to heart. How many times do I forget “how big I’m blessed” because I’m so caught up in all the craziness of everyday life? I have to say it’s more often than I’d like it to be.

Aside from believing that when I hear that song it’s a personal message to me from God, I also think God occasionally tries to slow me down on the road. Everybody has those times when they’re trying to get somewhere, but they keep getting “stuck” behind the slowest driver in the world. After getting aggravated for a short time, I finally relax, turn off the radio and say “Okay, God. I get it. What is it you want to tell me?”

There is a quote from St. Pio in Julie Davis’ Happy Catholic that struck me as a very cool way to think about things.

There’s a woman who is embroidering. Her son, seated on a low stool, sees her work, but in reverse. He sees the knots of the embroidery, the tangled threads. He says, “Mother, what are you doing? I can’t make out what you are doing!” Then the mother lowers the embroidery hoop and shows the good part of the work. Each color is in place, and the various threads form a harmonious design. So, we see the reverse side of the embroidery because we are seated on a low stool. 
~St. Pio

Later, in her reflection, Julie says “The big picture. We have to keep it in mind when the knots and tangles are getting us down.” It reminds me of the lyrics to This Is the Stuff: “In the middle of my little mess, I forget how big I’m blessed.”

In the midst of our daily activities, it can be hard to remember to stop, think about what really matters, and count our blessings. When you can’t find your keys, it’s hard to think how fortunate you are to have a car. I’ve decided a good perspective makes the day-to-day inconveniences seem a lot less annoying. It’s not easy to do, and sometimes (honestly maybe even a lot of the time) I still get caught up in the stuff that really doesn’t matter. I just keep trying, praying that God will give me the strength to rise above it and see the embroidery instead of the knots.

What keeps you from counting your blessings and seeing the embroidery? What do you do to help keep things in perspective?

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Photo: Piyachok Thawornmat / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Angela Glassmeyer is the Institutional Marketing & Sales Manager at St. Anthony Messenger Press. She is blessed with two amazing children and a husband who both encourages and inspires her. She loves to entertain and feed large crowds of family and friends, but does not love the cleanup that comes with it. Angela has been actively involved at St. James of the Valley for almost twenty years and has served as the PSR Coordinator since 2005. blog comments powered by

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