This morning I finished house sitting for my friends, which means I packed up all my things and toted them to my car (and later, back home). Normally this wouldn’t be something I’d be proud of–moving my luggage–but as yesterday was my first time walking since my recent left knee injury, it is. Hell, I’m proud of the fact that I brought in the morning paper. You should have seen me go, up and down three concrete steps, all the way to the curb, and back. Granted, a toddler could have done it faster, but using my own legs at any speed beats using crutches or a walker.

Despite the fact that my knee is injured, it’s supported me all day. This afternoon I went to Fayetteville to hear the Symphony of Northwest Arkansas (SoNA) with my friend Betty and managed to get around just like a normal person. Well, a normal person in low gear. Still, I walked from the car into the concert hall, up and down the aisles for the performance (it was gorgeous), to dinner afterwards, then back to the car. Only once did my knee feel like it was going to give out, and then just for a moment.

The biggest issue I’m having with my knee is that it’s rusty. That is, it’s stiff. If I bend it like I did while sitting during the concert, it wants to stay in that position. Consequently, standing up takes longer than passing a bill through congress. The opposite is also true. If I straighten my leg, it doesn’t want to bend. Thankfully, the concert wasn’t anything like a Catholic church service, in which you have to constantly change positions–stand, sit, kneel–stand, sit, kneel. We did, however, have to stand a couple times to sing or clap. And whereas my rising and sitting looked like that slow-motion scene in The Matrix, I made it.

This evening, with the assistance of my parents, I hauled my luggage from my car into my room. Then I unpacked. Again, I used to think nothing of this. But you don’t realize how much ground you cover moving your shirts from your luggage to your closet and your toiletries to your bathroom until every step requires consideration, planning, and willpower. No kidding, I’m worn out. With any luck, I’ll finish this blog post-haste and get to bed. I’m finding this is muy importante (that’s Spanish for “very important,” Mom), getting enough rest, giving my body time to heal. It has, after all, been traumatized. But I’m learning to trust it, to actually believe it’s doing the best it can. Because although I’m walking slowly, I am walking. And I just can’t say it enough.

This is no small thing.

I’m making a big deal about being able to walk. Well, sort of walk. But to be clear, I’ve found that my joy is not dependent on being traditionally mobile. Last week while on crutches, I was in a Christmas variety show, and I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much. This afternoon during the concert one of the performances was so beautiful that it brought me to tears. I thought, I don’t need my legs to enjoy this moment. Yes, I’m glad I have them. Yes, I want my left leg to “do right” again. But I’m reminded that the outer world can’t dictate my inner world. Sure, it can try, but ultimately I decide whether or not a challenge will bring me down or alternatively bring out the best in me. Yes, even when my body drags, this spirit can still soar. Because our spirits answer to a different set of rules. Indeed, they aren’t intimidated by anything physical.