Knocked Off My Feet: Learning to Trust God's Plan
What a broken toe taught me about surrender, trust, and God’s unexpected pauses
When I broke my toe, the first thing I felt was anger. Pure, raw anger. At my son’s cat (long story). At the circumstance. I had just found my rhythm in yoga and had starting going 3-4 times a week. It had become a practice that was slowly becoming my medicine, my way of processing the unbearable weight of my mother’s pancreatic cancer diagnosis just a few weeks ago. Every inhale, every exhale on the mat was giving me a sense of peace and grounding I didn’t think was possible in the midst of grief.
And then, just like that, I was knocked off my feet. Literally.
(I kicked my son’s cat…yes…me the cat lover…kicked the cat!)
WuuKitty apologized…. and so did I.
(Day 2)
The frustration came quickly. Why now? Why me? I had already been carrying so much. Caring for my mother while tending to the mother wound that never really goes away. Whew…that’s a story for another day. AND another post. Learning how to step away from the safety of corporate America, leaving behind the benefits and the steady paycheck to chase the tender, uncertain dream of my passion project, 100 Healthy Women. I had finally begun to taste the freedom of moving fully in alignment with my purpose. It was feeling good. And then…. a broken toe.
I talked to myself a lot and remained graceful about it, (because kicking the cat was NOT graceful AT ALL) but the truth is I did start to sink into despair. The pain wasn’t just physical; it was spiritual. I just felt like everything I was facing prior to this made things feel like life kept piling one thing after another on me, daring me to break too. I stayed prayerful, positive, optimistic… ALL THE THINGS I know I’m supposed to do in moments like this. But my body, which I had leaned on as my strongest ally, suddenly felt fragile. And I felt fragile, too.
But in the stillness that followed, something shifted. When you can’t move the way you want to, when you’re forced to rest and slow down, you hear God differently. I began to see that this broken toe was not a punishment, but a pause. God’s way of realigning my steps, of reminding me that I don’t have to push, hustle, and run all the time. Sometimes, healing means stopping. Sometimes, healing means letting yourself be held.
Slowly, acceptance crept in. Acceptance of my body’s need for rest. Acceptance that yoga is not just about asanas on the mat, but about how I breathe through life’s interruptions. Acceptance that I am still being guided, even when I can’t see the full path.
This fracture became an invitation to let go of control, to soften, to deepen my faith. It became a reminder that God’s plan is not always the one I map out, but the one that brings me back to Him, again and again.Life has a way of breaking us open, of humbling us, of slowing us down until we hear the whispers of what we truly need.
Right now, what I need is trust. Trust that even in this moment of immobility, I am still moving forward. Trust that my steps, when I’m able to take them again, will be stronger, steadier, more aligned with my purpose.
And maybe that’s what this season is for all of us. To stop resisting the pause. To stop fighting the detours. To trust that God is still guiding our steps, even when they are off path, even when they are broken.
(Day 5)
I would love to hear from you! Have you ever felt knocked off your feet physically, emotionally, or spiritually? What helped you find your way back to trust? Share your story in the comments.
And I wanted to share with you below some rituals and supplements I’m implementing to help me navigate this period of not being able to workout the way I would like to.
