The healing I experienced in the warm-water therapy pool wasn't just for my achy-breaky knee.
Parts of my soul -- parts that are far beyond the responsibility, and the training, of the physical therapy assistant who guided my water exercises -- also have been healed there, and are being healed still.
One of the reasons why I asked the physical therapist in charge of my case, Dan M., whether water therapy might be an option for me is because I love being in the water. When I was a baby, according to my mom, I loved my bath. Later, I loved splashing in the blow-up backyard pool, in the concrete wading pools that used to be at many of the parks in Des Moines, in the shallow end of Northwest Swimming Pool (now Northwest Aquatic Center) in Des Moines and in the deep end with my cousins at "the world's greatest pool" in Aurelia, Iowa.
Tall, lumpy women like me often feel clumsy on land, but graceful in the water. That's what I was thinking, anyway, as I asked about water-based physical therapy -- and Dan M. said yes.
The healing started the minute my toes, in those pink water-socks that I'd had for decades, were dipped into the 94-degree water on the ramp I used to enter the therapy pool.
As Dan S. instructed me to walk forward, walk backward, walk sideways, march and goose-step through water (up to my chest), my therapy began to feel like contemplative prayer in a labyrinth, where walking the winding path is a key part of connecting with the holy.
Insight No. 1: Anywhere can be a house of prayer, even a clinic's therapeutic aquatic center.
Dan was precise and professional in his leadership, but he wasn't impersonal. Between exercises, we'd chat, and little bits of our stories came out. From the beginning, Dan radiated a powerful intelligence and sensitivity, and bottomless respect for me, at a time when I half-expected to be fat-shamed and scolded, by a whip-thin man half my age, for not being a great athlete.
Insight No. 2: Once in a great, great while, a person comes along who has an uncanny knack for bringing out the best and the brightest in you. Recognize it. Treasure it. Thank God for it. Use it for health and healing.
One of the frequent topics with Dan was my history with swimming -- how I took lessons in a backyard pool from high school students who taught me from the perspective of competitive swimming, but I never got very fast, nor did I ever learn to do a flip turn. I don't think Dan and I ever talked about vocal music, but swimming and singing are two activities that I love, even though I'm not very good at them.
Insight No. 3: You don't have to be excellent at something to derive great joy and satisfaction from doing it.
After I finished my six sessions with Dan's guidance, I continued with the warm-water exercises I'd learned from him, and soon added (with the guidance of Katie, who oversees the aquatic center) lap-swimming, at first with a kickboard and later with flippers. That's when the community began to form -- the community of others, some of whom came to the pool deck with wheelchairs and walkers, who also know what it's like to be in constant pain, and who are working on their own healing.
Insight No. 4: None of us walks (or hobbles) alone. Sometimes, we need to tell our stories and hear the stories of others, but even the silent presence of a community is healing.
I've been working out in the water for almost a year and a half, and there is one insight that occurs every time I come to the pool -- this one:
Insight No. 5: Grace, in body and soul, comes to us from outside ourselves. It is a divine gift. It needs to be received and experienced with gratitude.
Parts of my soul -- parts that are far beyond the responsibility, and the training, of the physical therapy assistant who guided my water exercises -- also have been healed there, and are being healed still.
One of the reasons why I asked the physical therapist in charge of my case, Dan M., whether water therapy might be an option for me is because I love being in the water. When I was a baby, according to my mom, I loved my bath. Later, I loved splashing in the blow-up backyard pool, in the concrete wading pools that used to be at many of the parks in Des Moines, in the shallow end of Northwest Swimming Pool (now Northwest Aquatic Center) in Des Moines and in the deep end with my cousins at "the world's greatest pool" in Aurelia, Iowa.
Tall, lumpy women like me often feel clumsy on land, but graceful in the water. That's what I was thinking, anyway, as I asked about water-based physical therapy -- and Dan M. said yes.
The healing started the minute my toes, in those pink water-socks that I'd had for decades, were dipped into the 94-degree water on the ramp I used to enter the therapy pool.
As Dan S. instructed me to walk forward, walk backward, walk sideways, march and goose-step through water (up to my chest), my therapy began to feel like contemplative prayer in a labyrinth, where walking the winding path is a key part of connecting with the holy.
Insight No. 1: Anywhere can be a house of prayer, even a clinic's therapeutic aquatic center.
Dan was precise and professional in his leadership, but he wasn't impersonal. Between exercises, we'd chat, and little bits of our stories came out. From the beginning, Dan radiated a powerful intelligence and sensitivity, and bottomless respect for me, at a time when I half-expected to be fat-shamed and scolded, by a whip-thin man half my age, for not being a great athlete.
Insight No. 2: Once in a great, great while, a person comes along who has an uncanny knack for bringing out the best and the brightest in you. Recognize it. Treasure it. Thank God for it. Use it for health and healing.
One of the frequent topics with Dan was my history with swimming -- how I took lessons in a backyard pool from high school students who taught me from the perspective of competitive swimming, but I never got very fast, nor did I ever learn to do a flip turn. I don't think Dan and I ever talked about vocal music, but swimming and singing are two activities that I love, even though I'm not very good at them.
Insight No. 3: You don't have to be excellent at something to derive great joy and satisfaction from doing it.
After I finished my six sessions with Dan's guidance, I continued with the warm-water exercises I'd learned from him, and soon added (with the guidance of Katie, who oversees the aquatic center) lap-swimming, at first with a kickboard and later with flippers. That's when the community began to form -- the community of others, some of whom came to the pool deck with wheelchairs and walkers, who also know what it's like to be in constant pain, and who are working on their own healing.
Insight No. 4: None of us walks (or hobbles) alone. Sometimes, we need to tell our stories and hear the stories of others, but even the silent presence of a community is healing.
I've been working out in the water for almost a year and a half, and there is one insight that occurs every time I come to the pool -- this one:
Insight No. 5: Grace, in body and soul, comes to us from outside ourselves. It is a divine gift. It needs to be received and experienced with gratitude.
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