Slow

Just as my father leaned less on the walker as he progressed in his physiotherapy, so too do I lean less on my own devices and more on my Beloved as I grow in faith.

Holy Trinity (Luca Rossetti da Orta)

Some time ago my father underwent some very serious surgery on his knees.

While the surgery itself would not have been particularly risky in a younger man, for my father, there were increased risks associated with undertaking that surgery due to his age and pre-dispositions.  My father expected to spend a couple of weeks in hospital recovering and completing some physiotherapy after that surgery.  Instead, he experienced multiple life-changing complications that meant that his recovery was extremely protracted and he spent over six weeks in hospital, including a week in intensive care.

As a result of that surgery, his knees are greatly improved, but there are other health complications for him that mean that he is likely to require medications and treatment for the remainder of his life.

Because my father spent such a long time in hospital, I made a point of visiting him very often to keep his spirits up.  My mother would spend her days and evenings with him, and I felt that at times they both required some distraction and was happy to provide it.  As the days turned into weeks, I entered into a sort of routine with my father.  I would walk the corridors of the hospital with him a few times a day – when he was allowed to walk – so that he would strengthen his legs and develop his endurance as part of his physiotherapy.

The physiotherapy was quite simple.  At first my father walked with a big walker, and then a smaller one and then a smaller one until he did not need a walking frame at all.  The trigger for moving from one walking frame to another was the speed at which my father could walk.  As soon as he got a little bit faster on a frame, he was progressed to a slightly less supporting frame.  And he would have to begin again the tedious process of learning to walk again…

At one point my father really did not want to walk with the new frame.  He had been in hospital over a month and was becoming distressed that the new frame made him walk quite slowly.  I remember speaking to him at that time and asking him what was bothering him, and he replied, “I will never be able to get anywhere walking at this pace.”  And he was quite right.  You see, the new walker did not provide much support and he was very much slower with it than he had been with the previous walker.  When we spoke about it, we spoke about sometimes needing to go slow to go fast.  By this I mean, that sometimes, the only way forward is to slow down and learn the new skill and become accustomed to it.  And so, after some deliberation, my father continued with his slow walking – starting from scratch – so to speak…

And I have been thinking about that today as I have been thinking about how God asks us to approach Him.  Just when we think that things are going well, so often things go wrong.  And when that happens we can feel overwhelmed.  And just as my father had a moment of doubt in thinking that the slowness of his steps was a reflection of a lack of progress, sometimes, I too feel that my slowness in my aspirations is some indication of my moving backwards, when in fact, it is God’s way of moving me forwards, allowing me to rely further on Him rather than myself.

And just as my father leaned less on the walker as he progressed in his physiotherapy, so too do I lean less on my own devices and more on my Beloved as I grow in faith.

And that is why I know that sometimes slow is actually fast…

For with prayer, I stand on Holy Ground where everything is clear. Here. At the Foot of the Cross.