If You Can't Walk, Crawl

It’s often said that a journey begins with one step; what they don’t tell you is that once started, there will be times upon the voyage when you are going to find yourself faced with obstacles that make walking no longer an option.  When this happens, you have two choices: sit there and wait for someone to come along and pick you up or pull yourself to your knees and start crawling. As I hit hurdles in marriage and parenthood that leave me feeling temporarily crippled, sitting just doesn’t seem to be an alternative…

It’s been over a week since Brian blew out his knee and has been confined to crutches. Watching him struggle with the most mundane of tasks, I am amazed at how much we take for granted basic mobility. Although I know pain is a constant state of being for him, he astounds me with his fierce determination and unrelenting persistence at becoming more self-sufficient each day. When he decided to tackle the stairs, and started scooting up them backwards on his behind, I was reminded what I loved most about my husband: he is a crawler.  As he tackled those steps one by one, I reminisced back on milestones in my life when I was incapacitated.

In looking back on my pilgrimage from childhood to adulthood, I would say that my character was built by each pivotal moment I had to clamber my way through.  I didn’t think of crawling as an option then, or even a choice, but rather an automatic response to a call in arms. And since my dad was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was 11, suffice it to say there were many rings to answer.  But since meeting and marrying Brian, I feel like I have been cruising along easy street. It’s been such a luxury to have had the opportunity to hitch-hike aimlessly through these past five years, with only the responsibilities and needs of him and I alone strapped to my back. What an opulent indulgence to focus exclusively on ourselves. Outside cancer’s debilitating reach, I rediscovered the simple joy of a stable, low-stress environment that created for me an illusion of control. Each morning I woke up in this happy place, I felt like I was in Disneyland; I knew what a vacation from my family’s reality this was, especially my mother’s. For the past 15 years, she’s been the sole captain of our family’s ship. With all of our collective needs weighing only on her shoulders, we came close to sinking more times than I care to count. But because of her tenacity and the sheer power of her will, she managed to keep us a float.  Somehow, some way, whether she has had to beg, borrow, or steal; our heads always remained above water. Now, if you look at her closely, you can see the scars crawling through the past decade has left. The ones on her knees catch your eye first; however, it’s the ones on her soul that you can’t look away from. Since Brian had his accident, and all household responsibilities have fallen onto my shoulders, it forces me to question whether I still remember how to crawl myself.

Last night after I lugged the trash cans to the curb and tucked Liam into his crib, I stood in front of my grandmother’s vanity as I got ready for bed.  I remembered when Brian and I picked it up from the house my father grew up in, and put it in the first bedroom we shared together in our apartment on Walnut Street.  It’s hard to believe that just two years later, here it sits in a home of our own, just a room away from where our very son is beginning to grow. As I started to change into my PJs, I thought about the many different fights and struggles Brian and I have been through that led to me standing on this new silver carpet. When my pants fell to the floor, I noticed scars I had never seen before on my knees.  In disbelief, my eyes flew to the face in the mirror; there, hidden in the depths of my reflection, were matching marks on my soul.  I couldn’t help but smile in pure satisfaction as I realized I haven’t forgotten how to crawl after all, I guess I’ve been doing it all along…

It’s frustrating to go from being able to walk to being forced to crawl. No matter what stage of life you find yourself in, your knees balk at the travel ahead. But your soul welcomes the chance to grow. So tonight, if you find yourself sore after a long day, maybe an even longer week of crawling, take a good look at yourself; when you notice scars never seen before, know that you are pulling yourself along your journey. Albeit at what may feel like a snail’s pace, we are nonetheless making our way through these character-building stumbling blocks. Crawl on, dear friends…