My Other Leg.

I suppose, Grace takes on new meaning when you look at things his way.

My last ride was definitely one of my most memorable rides ever.

Saturday was my first ride out with my training group since my injury. Because I had been cautioned by the physiotherapist not to overexert myself, I stayed at the back of the group and biked carefully on my own, being extra sensitive to the needs of my body. To be safe, I was determined to finish only half or two-thirds the usual route. I was riding by myself when a low, 3-wheeled contraption whizzed past me.

It was E!

I remember my first memory of him consisted of him standing on one leg because he hadn't another. The other pant leg was completely empty. Without meaning to be rude and with all due respect, it was a sight which I would not forget easily. His good leg, however, stood strong, and he moved from one place to another independently by hopping.

E, like Fungus, is a handcyclist who joined our training group a while back. He cycles with his hands because he only has 1 leg. Because handcyclers, unlike bicycles, are very low, they can be dangerous on the road since other cars and lorries may not see them. Usually, a cyclist or two from our group would escort the handcyclists but this time, E was alone.

He was going quite fast in spite of the headwind, and overtook me. Slightly perturbed by his being alone (and being overtaken, ha), I caught up with him and decided to be his biking escort.

As we talked and biked, I was attracted to his positivity. Eventually, I asked him about his leg.

"Was it an accident?"

"No. Chondrosarcoma. Cancer which relapsed," he said. "13 years ago."

It was then that I saw immense strength in his spirit. He had legs before. He knew what it was like to run, bike, swim, jump... but now had to cope, had to continue living life bravely with a single leg.

"You are very strong," I said.

To which he replied candidly, "Yes I am!" For some reason, it didn't sound proud. It did, however, ring of confidence and relief.

"May I ask a question?"

"Sure!" he said, in between breaths as we cycled down the straight road.

"Did you... I mean, were you ever angry with God?"

To which he replied readily, "Why should I be? I have my other leg! I could've lost them both! And my hands, and my eyes! Don't you see, God loves me... I'm not Christian, but I know there certainly is a God out there who loves me. "

I was speechless. Why should I be angry? I have my other leg.

I suppose, Grace takes on new meaning when you look at things this way.


Grace. It means being given what you don't deserve.


Today at Sunday School, I shared my experience with this inspiring man with all the children, big and small. They were enthralled by this little anecdote. Together, we thanked God for the good health, hands, legs and head he had given us. I realise, we can look at things from 2 perspectives: one, that we deserve everything a good life consists of and any deficiency must be God's fault or His terrible inconsistency; two, that we deserve nothing in the first place and everything is a blessing.

E chose to see things from the second perspective. "Love keeps me going," he said.

As I biked with E and saw no one available to escort him, I knew I could not turn back as I had originally intended because it would be dangerous for him. Nonetheless, I was worried that my healing muscles and hip would not take kindly to the full 50km distance or the slopes ahead. Yet, a certain peace came upon me. I prayed. I knew my physical injury (having a torn grace-lis muscle among other muscles and a broken hip) had a lot to do with my spiritual inability to receive Grace.

But on this ride, I saw the meaning of Grace in a new light, and saw how indeed, my ability to ride, to race, to study, to serve, is not by my own merit, but really, by God's unmerited favor.

So the ride was amazing because of my meeting E. And amazing too, because it was a breakthrough in my recovery. For weeks, I had suffered aches and pains after any physiotherapy exercise, however light, but today, even days after the ride, my legs, for the first time ever, feel so good and strong. For the first time, my muscles no longer feel tight. I suppose it has got to do with improved blood circulation. It sounds crazy, but I often think our spiritual or emotional states are closely and inexplicably linked to our physical conditions.

All this while, many of my friends asked me how they could keep me in prayer. They offered to pray for my speedy recovery. That, however, was not my prayer at all. Eventually, I only asked God to teach me what He wanted to through this, because I knew that when those lessons were finally mastered, I would be healed and my pain would go away.

That day, I understood what Grace meant, and saw how I could, like E, apply it into my life.

(But don't worry, I'm still going to take things very slowly, take things easy and listen to my physiotherapist. It's not wise to make the same mistake twice, and I won't risk it. I still intend to race someday in my life, when God permits.)

E's attitude toward his other leg taught me not only about strength and resilience, but also about gratitude, perspective and grace.

"Thanks for sharing, E. I think you're absolutely amazing. I really enjoyed the ride."

"Me too."