Broken Bones and Blessings

My laid-up husband next to the leaf blower that awaits my next penance payment. 

 My husband broke his foot last week, and our shower sprung a very bad leak, all in the same day.  

My husband was hurriedly trying to get his foot into his sneaker, but rather than taking three extra seconds to loosen the laces, he tried forcing his foot in.  Result; his foot rolled and he pitched forward thus putting more weight on his foot and breaking it pretty darn good. 

Me, ever the optimist, (especially with a husband who can tend to make a mountain out of a molehill with a tiny mosquito bite), assured him that it was likely just bruised or, at worst, sprained and that I would get some Epsom salt to soak his foot in.  Then we went off to Lowe's to buy carpet. 

Obviously, being much wiser than I, (and in far more pain) my hubby called the sports doctor he's used before and went in the next morning only to find out that his foot was broken.  He was put in a cast to just below his knee and is now walking around on crutches, while I walk around with my tail tucked between my legs as I pay penance for being so flippant about the seriousness of his injury.  Out of necessity, but even more so out of guilt, I'm now waiting on him hand and foot because I'm a bad, bad, bad person.  Which is making me a tired, tired, tired person.  As it stands, if his foot is healing properly in three weeks then he'll come off crutches and be in a boot.  BUT, if it isn't healing correctly then he'll have to have surgery and a pin put in.  If you don't think I'm praying a lot these days... 

As far as our leaking shower is concerned, it was discovered that the water-proofing material was lacking between our shower tiles and the drywall behind it.  As a result, our shower has been gutted, and as the work is done, we're staying out of the way at our lake house.  It goes without saying that the inept tile installer who originally put the shower in has joined me in the bad, bad, bad, person's club.  

So, here comes the whole point of this blog, which truly isn't a whining session.  It's actually a blog about being most grateful for some unexpected things. 

For instance, I'm very grateful that we had the foresight to put an elevator in at the lake house we built last year, with the intention that we'd need it in our later years.  Little did we know that those years would come sooner rather than later, and it's making life a lot easier for my husband, not to mention me, too. 

I'm grateful that I'm healthy enough to take care of those things that my husband usually does.  And I'm also thankful I have a strong, young friend who comes over to do those things I physically can't, which has worked out really well for him as he needs the work. 

I'm very grateful  (and looking forward to), a few friends who are coming for Thanksgiving, which I absolutely love having at my house, and still want to even though I'm a bit short-handed, or should I say short-footed?  These wonderful friends are pitching in with lovely food to help me out, and will undoubtedly give thanks-giving even more meaning this year. 

I'm also thankful that if my husband had to break something, it was his foot instead of something much more serious.  I realize that there are many people going through far, far worse than what we are, and as a dear friend said last week, "Nothing is a problem when it can be fixed."  And both my husband's foot and our leaky shower can be. 

Finally, one of the things I'm most grateful for is the sweet young husband and wife, and their precious three year-old little girl, who are staying at our mountain house rebuilding our shower.  They're from Honduras, and haven't been here very long, so they have very little.  However, they're working their fingers to the bone trying to build a new life for themselves in a land that was intended to provide opportunities to ALL people.  

I stopped by the house yesterday to pick up a few things as they'll be working on our shower for several more days.  When I got there, the wife, who speaks very little English, hugged me hard and managed to convey how much they love being in the mountains and using our house.  Her husband told me how grateful they are to not be going back and forth to their home in Charlotte, which is two hours away.  Their truck is an old one and unreliable.  Antonio told me his wife feels like they're on vacation.  He also told me how grateful they are that we trust them enough to allow them to stay there alone.  He somberly confided that many of his customers hover over him, afraid he'll steal something.  I got choked up when he told me that, thinking about the prejudices and distrust of people they've encountered simply because they don't speak English well yet, or feel that these hardworking immigrants are a real threat to their...what, exactly, I'm not sure.  What I do know, though, is that those people who are frightened and angry and suspicious are missing out on a whole lot, including a hug from a near stranger. 

As I crawl into bed these nights and say my prayers, I thank the good Lord above that my husband is lying next to me, cast and all.  I also think about that sweet young family enjoying our home in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and smile wondering what they might be doing at that moment. Then I thank God for all of the gifts that I have been given, and t