Braced for Grace

22-10-24

“To brace” can mean preparing oneself for challenges ahead. “Brace” as a noun refers to any supportive or strengthening device.

The leg braces (aka calipers) of my childhood were instruments of mental & physical torture.

During primary school days, besides bracing myself for taunts about my leg, there was also the nightly ritual of treating open wounds caused by skin chaffing against metal. Wondering what new injuries would befall me the next day was often my bedtime thoughts.

So at 15, when the doctor gave me permission to walk braceless, I was just so relieved. My dad wouldn’t need to keep spending money on brace & shoes. The abrasions could finally stop & I could bend my knee when seated. I might also be able blend in with the normal girls!

However, 45 years later and a month ago, I finally surrendered to hyperextended knee pains & had to start using a leg brace all over again.

I was meant to take a week or two to practise walking with the clunky but necessary contraption. However pain forced me to make peace with my brace in 2 days.

On the 3rd day, I had my first trip out with what my yoga teacher described as, “the leg I never had.” A friend offered to send her driver to ease my journey to tuition, but I asked her to send me her prayers instead. ♥️

And true enough, her potent conjuring would raise a kind hearted grab driver to boost my confidence.

When we arrived, the superfit senior in his late 60s escorted me from car to curb and pavement with the elegance of a dancer & the calmness of a sage. 🙏

My current leg brace allows me to bend my knee when at rest, and reduces knee hyperextension. It has also made my handicap more visible.

Neighbours, students and sometimes even strangers looking at my brace will start telling me about their own pain struggles & even remedies. The corrective device that used to be an object of mockery has now become a conversation starter.

Voices soften & eyes turn gentle as we share notes on our collective pains.

Perhaps the brace that draws attention to my deformity has also given a concrete form to the hidden hurts of others, & the permission to speak what they think nobody will understand.

And in our shared narratives of coping without attributing blame or pity, the grace of acceptance follows. 🪔