Saying Goodbye to the Knees God Gave me

I had the usual pudgy knees as a toddler but they supported my twig-like legs as a teenager. I had my first knee surgery at 19 – the first time I spent the night in a hospital since the day I was born. And although I was an adult, my parents spent the night with me so that I’d wake up to see friendly faces. Mom had fainted upon seeing me return from recovery and when Dad yelled into the hall, “She’s fainted!” three people ran into my room to tend to me. But I had to tell them it wasn’t me. My Mom was on the floor on the other side of the bed having collapsed at the sight of my bandages.

(This is why Mom never agreed to reconstructive surgery after her mastectomy. She couldn’t even look at the bandages much less what was under the bandages.)

My friend SPS suggested that I spend time walking a labyrinth before I exchange the knees God gave me with whatever human-made knees Dr. M gives me this Wednesday. And I followed her suggested over the weekend. These are the rituals that give life meaning.

I thanked God for the knees that supported me when I took my first steps and the knees that were scraped after that big bike wreck into The Leadbetter’s front yard. I thanked God for the knees that stood firm during cheerleading and gymnastics – until they didn’t. (I blame the fact that Title IX wasn’t the law until I was almost out of high school. We had not had the opportunities – at least where I lived – to strengthen our ligaments and muscles to train for competitive sports until we were practically grown women.) A quick flip off somebody’s shoulders was all it took to wreck my knee thus starting a series of surgeries on both knees over the next 50 years.

The history of orthopedic knee surgery is displayed on both my legs: the big cut from pre-arthroscopic days. Lots of smaller scars to repair tears. A slightly bigger cut to replace my ACL in 2007. I’m hoping this week’s surgery will be the last on these wonderful knees.

These are the knees I bent to the floor on the day of my ordination. These are the knees that allowed me to climb into a pulpit and stand there.

These are the knees that helped me stand beside HH as we exchanged our wedding vows. These are the knees that felt weak at my parents’ gravesides. These are the knees that made it possible for me to walk with our children to the bus stop, to museums, to parks.

These are the knees that have served me well (or pretty well) for almost 70 years and – because it’s amazing what the Lord has let us learn – these are the knees that will be replaced on Wednesday. So grateful.

Strengthen the weak hands and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong, do not fear!” Isaiah 35:3-4

As we age, many of us have to say goodbye to the body parts God gave us. It’s a big deal. It deserves a ritual.

And so: listen to my genius friend SPS and take a moment before saying good-bye.