Across the road from my parents’ home, the trees have been showing their splendor since we arrived the day before Thanksgiving. They remind me daily that beauty can still be found, even in difficult times, if only we don’t stop looking.
The events and changes that life sends to us often forces us to reorder our lives. Our first reaction may be one of kicking and screaming as we put up a fight to ward off any semblance of change, any notion that we may have to leave our nest of comfort and set out on a different path.
I think this reaction is unavoidable, initially, for the simple reason that we haven’t had time to adjust our vantage point. We are still viewing the world from our usual position. We are creatures of habit, after all. We don’t like having to leave home unexpectedly, not knowing when we will return. We don't like knowing our father may never walk again, after walking a mile a day for 40 years.
But how things appear depends completely on your vantage point. I can step outside on any given day and never see the blue skies or the tops of trees if I keep my head to the ground. And unless I climb a mountain, or get there by ski-lift or some such thing, I will never see the magic of the city lights glowing in the darkness below. It’s all about vantage points.
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Dad’s second surgery was performed Monday and he now has a heavy black boot on his left leg. He cannot put weight on it for at least two months and probably three.
Yesterday, he started the first phase of his long rehab program. He will continue here at the hospital for the next two weeks, then will have to be moved, most likely, to a skilled rehab facility for about three months. We are exploring all possibilities, including home healthcare. There are still many unknowns and we’ve learned to not think too far ahead.
Last night, following a week with a fairly full house, it was just me and my mom. We can only visit Daddy during set hours now. After we returned home from the hospital, we sat at the bar in the kitchen and played a couple games of Dominoes (her favorite; she is a fierce player). Me, not so much. I often have to be told I made points. Even so, I managed to beat her once and she beat me once. I know her well enough to know she didn’t give it to me either. That girl plays to win every time.
Last night’s games were really more than games though. As we played, we talked about many things—some weighty, some not—and I realized how blessed I am to be, at this moment in time, able to serve my mother and father, to the best of my ability.
As we make this sharp curve in the road of life together, we don’t know how or where it will end. There may be more tears than laughter, but from my vantage point, life is beautiful, God is good, and I am blessed.
Until next time, sweet friends, I apologize for not being able to visit around the blog neighborhood. In time, I hope to be back in full swing. In the meantime, thanks so much for your prayers, for your thoughts, for your encouraging comments. They mean more than I could ever express.
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