David: Recently my sense of wellness was tested within my faith. Aging comes to us all, and it is not an easy process or one that is hallmarked with dignity. As we age, we become less visible. People see us as less relevant or stop seeing us at all. Our faith, community, and friendship circles become reflective of what we already know. Our sense of faith is based on what we have been exposed to. We are creatures of our environments and conditioning. We acquire our sense of faith over time, and as we age, hopefully, we become more comfortable with questioning things. Change can be daunting.

One morning I got up to let out my Great Dane, Molly. I opened the door, out she went, ever so happy, and I stepped out to watch her. Bam! I was lying on the walkway on my back, looking up at the front of the house, in pain. I had stepped onto black ice, the unseen reminder that winter is not yet over. As I lay there, I thought, “I hate winter. Why am I here?”

I called out. No one came. Acres separate my neighborhood’s homes. Long driveways mask us from the roadway. I couldn’t move or get up. One leg was bent up behind me with my foot twisted in an unnatural position. Then I heard Michel say, “Go halfway. We’ll help you the rest of the way. You are never alone.” A ray of light lifted me up. I had to get help. But could I? I silenced myself and breathed. Leaning on Molly, I crawled up the stairway to the porch, through the doorway, and down the hall to the kitchen, where my phone was. Molly stayed by my side, my anchor.