When we were children my mother taught us to sing a song which we used as a grace before our meals. It had a six part harmony and it was my job to start it off:

“For health and strength
and daily food
we praise Your name
O Lord”

My confident little soprano voice rang out without ever really stopping to think about the words. Those words came back to me today.

Today I do not have health or strength. I am exhausted and I feel very sorry for myself. Yesterday I was running upstairs carrying my screaming daughter – trying to find one of the dummies that hide themselves in various places around our house. Tom was on his way down the stairs. Awkwardly I turned to avoid him and felt something pop in my calf. I was suddenly in deep pain. (I won’t say “agony” because I have given birth a couple of times.) But it was very sore indeed.
Fortunately I had a friend there and her husband was coming for tea so at least I wasn’t on my own.

I rang my Doctor brother who informed me after a couple of questions and over-the-phone-tests, that it was likely that I have torn some of the fibres in my calf. Youch.

I got to the shower this morning with the aid of a cricket bat. I cannot stand for long and have to walk very flat-footedly to avoid searing pain.

I think this may well be God’s way of getting me to rest and slow down.

I hear you God.