Why I'm Still Here

By Susan Knight

     Spoiler Alert: Pity Party. But it has a good ending.

    

     The other night, when my ankle was hurting because I had done too much during the day, I said my prayers as I rubbed my ankle and just spoke my heart to my Heavenly Father. I sure felt sorry for myself.

    

     “Heavenly Father, why did you bring me all the way to Utah just to let my ankle get mangled?”

   

     I really had a great time before that happened. I joined a lot of activities: a dance group, two book clubs, and a writer’s chapter. I welcomed each tomorrow to see what discoveries I could make in this beautiful new place.

    

     Then, a year ago, almost, over Labor Day weekend, I stood on a ladder and it collapsed. There, too, went my whole new world.

    

     I know it could have been worse. My guardian angels worked way overtime for me, making sure my ankle was the only injury. I could have broken my arms, or my neck. Thank you, angels J

    

     So now, after almost a year, my patience wore thin. I cried out to my Lord as tears trickled down my cheeks, “Why? Why did this happen? I can’t do anything. I can’t go anywhere—easily. I can’t walk.” I am not normally a wall flower. I am very independent. Was…

    

     And, I have to admit, I asked Him, “What is my purpose? Why am I still here? I’m good for nothing.”

    

     The next day, Sunday, I happened upon the compassionate service leader in my ward who took great care of me during my surgery and way-long recovery. We caught up before the meetings started. She had been visiting with her family at a reunion at Bear Lake. And what did she talk about? Her great-granddaughters.

    

     “She calls me Great-Nanna,” she said of one. “Because I’m Nanna to my grandchildren.”

    

     Her stories of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, I have to admit, brought tears to my eyes because of the loving way in which she spoke about them. Just thinking about it now almost makes me weep.

    

     “Great-Nanna, will you hold me?” I saw the love for her family in her tales of Bear Lake.

    

     As I sat, preparing for the sacrament, a warm feeling came over me. Then it hit me hard, and in no still, small voice.

    

     “You, too, can have this. Have patience. Even more patience than you’ve already mustered. Good times are just around the corner.”

    

     Well, around the corner, down the lane, up and over the mountain, maybe… I have no grandchildren; just four kids and two sons-in-law. But I get the gist of what the Holy Ghost was trying to tell me. I have a purpose. I know why I’m here. Feeling sorry for yourself can skew the vision.

    

     So I diligently stick to my morning affirmations: I am well. I am happy. I am healthy. I am strong.

    

     And I added one more: My ankle is getting better.