Broken

Utah spring

I'm giving a talk in church on Easter. You're invited. The whole world is invited. 

I found out last Sunday that I will be the only speaker. Four musical numbers will be performed before me, two after me. Then the bishop will give closing remarks as time permits. 

Since the whole world is invited, the sacrament portion of the meeting might take longer than usual. Combined with all those musical numbers, I suggested to the bishop there probably won't be time for the original fifteen minutes they asked me to speak. He agreed ten minutes will probably be better. 

By the time I was mostly done writing it, the talk was clocking in closer to fifteen minutes. I needed to trim it down. Even a shorter version of this story was starting to feel too self-centered. I also began to think it might dilute the message I felt prompted to share. So, I'm sharing the story here instead.

Back in 2011, I wrote about what happened on this blog. I even wrote a poem about it, but I didn't tell it all like I tell it here. 

So here it goes:

Broken

It was the morning of June 28, 2011, just a few months after we moved into our current home. I was the assistant Young Women camp director, and excited to go to camp that day. It would be our daughter Mariel’s first Young Women camp experience. In our morning family prayer, I prayed that Mariel and I would both learn the things we needed to learn from our experiences.

Finally, our ride arrived. I was hurrying out the front door when my right foot caught on our door mat. I tried to slow myself and catch my balance, but I couldn't stop. I flew down the porch steps. With my left arm trying to stop myself, I landed hard on the cement sidewalk below.

At first, I thought I was fine, that I could just get up, brush myself off, and go to camp. But my left arm looked wrong, blood was rushing from my head, I was dizzy, and I couldn’t get up. It soon became clear I wasn’t going to camp. Several people helped me as I lay there on the sidewalk.

Someone called 911. Someone else called Brother Fisher and Brother VanderToolen to come give me a priesthood blessing. Right there, as I lay on the sidewalk waiting for the ambulance, Brother Fisher and Brother VanderToolen gave me a priesthood blessing for healing. The blessing comforted me. I specifically remember Brother VanderToolen blessed me that I’d have a full recovery.

I severely bruised some ribs, my glasses were twisted, scratched and falling off my face. I had a two-inch gash in my head by my left eyebrow, probably from my glasses. I’d dislocated my left elbow. A piece of the end of the ulna broke off in the impact.

I was transported by ambulance to the hospital. My arm was in so much pain that an EMT had to hold it up or I’d scream. At the hospital, they glued the cut on my head closed with liquid stitches. They put me under anesthesia to pop the elbow back in place. Then I was sent home swollen, sore, tired, and sad about missing camp. Despite me not being there, Mariel had good experiences at camp.

A few weeks later, the gash on my head was healed, I was getting around better, and my bruised ribs were mostly healed so I could sleep comfortably again. Unfortunately, a surgeon determined that the broken piece of my ulna might be in the way of my elbow being able to bend normally. I had to have surgery. I was so discouraged to have to begin the healing process all over again. The surgeon moved the bone back in place and put two titanium screws in it to hold it together.

What followed was three months of physical therapy three times a week. For a couple of months, I thought I’d never be able to bend my arm past a ninety degree angle. Eventually I used a device that forced my arm to bend little by little. I asked the physical therapist, “Every morning, will I wake up with my arm aching for the rest of my life?” She had a sad expression and nodded. I started to doubt I’d heal completely.

Thankfully, I was wrong.

Just like I was told in the priesthood blessing, I eventually made a full recovery. You can’t tell the difference between my two arms. Both can curl a ten pound weight, maybe more soon, when I couldn’t even lift a one pound weight without pain. Yes, it has been over ten years, but it took less than a year for me to regain full movement in that arm. I don't experience any aching from the injury. Even the scar from surgery is disappearing.

The priesthood blessing I was given was part of my healing process. The priesthood is the power of God on earth. When worthy priesthood holders give blessings it’s as if Jesus Christ himself is giving a blessing. Jesus Christ wants to heal us. That’s one of the things he did while he was on earth, blessed and healed people.