God's Helping a Hand - Lessons from Learning to Stand as an Adult
photo by Tatiana Syrikova at Pexels
I walk like a toddler, and that’s not a joke.
One leg works, mostly, but the other leg wobbles, resulting in a walk that toddles, tips, and pretty much looks like I’m about to fall down. Sometimes, I do.
This Weeble wobbles, and she does fall down.
Unlike a toddler, though, I don’t get back up again easily.
To be fair, not all toddlers get up easily either. Especially, when they are just starting to learn to walk.
We have a precious god-granddaughter who is in this stage right now. A few weeks ago, she could take a few steps, but every time she fell, you could see the wheels turning in her brain: Let’s just stay down. Crawling is easier.
Then, something changed. Now she’s stepping all over the place. Her steps go wide, then narrow. Fast, then slow. She’s figuring it out. Now, when she falls, she plants her hands on the ground and pushes herself back up. As soon as she’s back on her feet, she’s off.
I can so relate!
When I fall, I often crawl to the nearest chair and pull myself up into it to rest and gather the courage to stand again. Rarely do I plant my hands and push back up onto my feet. First of all, that takes a lot of leg strength, which I lack. Second, it takes core strength and balance, which I also lack. I have tried this push-to-stand routine only to push myself right over, landing back on the ground.
The first time that happened, I was at the gym. This is not a gym story. This is a story of what comes of feeling cocky and overconfident.
I had finished an exercise on the floor and, because I was feeling oh-so-strong, I didn’t wait for a trainer to help me up; I pushed into a standing position with nothing around to grab or hold. I pushed so hard that when I got upright, I tipped right over like a tree being felled. I could’ve shouted "Timber!"
Back on the floor, I noticed where I landed and almost cried. My head was inches from a huge kettlebell.
That pretty much convinced me to stop using the push-to-stand method of getting up.
Now, my husband I have a little routine. The physical therapists at spinal rehab taught it to us. While I’m on the floor, he stands and plants his feet in front of mine, like a backstop of sorts. He wraps his arms around me, under my arms, at chest level, and I wrap my arms around his neck. Then we count down to liftoff. He sets me on my feet and holds me until I’ve got my balance. No one gets hurt, and I’m back in action.
I think, maybe, Ezekiel experienced this routine.
Ezekiel had a vision of the throne room of God and, understandably, fell on his face in response. Then the voice of God said, "Son of man, stand on your feet, and I will speak with you" (Ezekiel 2:1 ESV).
I’m thinking he couldn’t get up. No push-to-stand routine for Ezekiel. He was down like a toddler debating a crawl instead of a stand.
Then, God intervened. "And as he spoke to me, the Spirit entered into me and set me on my feet, and I heard him speaking to me" (Ezekiel 2:2 ESV).
Like my husband, doing for me what I can’t do for myself, God reached down to pick Ezekiel up off the ground and set him on his feet. He probably waited a second for Ezekiel to get his balance before letting go.
I should back up and explain how I learned to stand after being paralyzed.
At spinal rehab, before I could move my legs or sit up on my own, I was labeled a "two-person assist." That meant I could only move when two people were present to move me. I’m small, so it had nothing to do with my size. It had everything to do with a strong "no fall" rule at rehab. Falling was kryptonite.
So, at first, they moved me around in a sling attached to the ceiling. When I got stronger, they ditched the sling and brought in a wheelchair.
Then it was time for me to learn to stand. If I could stand, I could hold on to grab bars and get approved to be downgraded to a "one-person assist."
To stand on legs that you can’t control, the PTs use a Stand Table. Imagine a standing desk that’s narrow enough you could lean against one edge, lay your arms across the top, and hold on to the opposite edge. Now, attach the table legs in the center of the table and cover them with thick padding. My job was to get into that "grab the other side" position while the PTs strapped my legs to the padded table legs. That put me in a standing position, but it didn’t count if people were holding me up. I had to hold on and make my legs remember how it feels to hold me up. The first time I did this, I lasted aobut 20 seconds before passing out. I was told that was "not bad."
Standing is no joke!
But let me tell you, when you are limited to only sitting, being able to stand is worth the work.
Before we move on, let’s review how much assistance it took for me to get to standing.
a table (a really secure table)
at least two people to get me up and strapped in
And once I got the hang of that, I still needed a grab bar and one person to assist me to do anything that required moving.
For a time, I had one job: learn to walk. Sounds simple, but it wasn’t. It required a team of support people and a heavy dose of humility on my part.
I remember the day the PTs determined it was time for me to learn to step. I was thinking, They must think I lost cognitive ability along with physical ability. I know how to step!
They took me into a long hall lined with one long grab bar. They talked me through the phases of a step. Seriously, there are five phases in each step cycle. Toddlers don’t need to learn that. But I did.
So, I listened. Then, on my first attempt, my brain sort of glitched and took off like I had been walking my whole life. (Oh, wait! I had!) I ended in a heap on the floor. My first fall.
And, the first time I was picked up off the floor and set back on my feet.
No one really expects me to get up off the floor on my own anymore. I can, and sometimes I do, but it takes a lot out of me. My husband and friends know that, so they help me up.
I’m so glad I have that kind of support. I don’t take it for granted. I could be doing this "disabled" life on my own, toddling and falling and struggling to get back up again. By grace, I don’t have to.
And I think of all the paths I walk down. Raising kids with adoption trauma. Working in a ministry. Marriage. So many ways and places to trip up.
I suppose that’s why God’s helping hand stood out to me in Ezekiel 2. When God gives us a job, even just one simple job, he doesn’t expect us to do it on our own. He reaches down and lends a hand.
We do it together.
I’d love to hear your thoughts. Leave a comment and I’ll respond.
Let me lend you a hand with some encouragement, like this list of 12 Verses to Help You Endure.
I’d love to send it to you.
