what i will hold on to...

Though the memories play through my head and heart, I haven't actually recorded some of the most special moments of the past year. Not writing them down, preserving them in a tangible way, is risky. I don't want to forget... I don't want to lose them in the mess of today {and the todays to come.}

Sometimes I have stood still, closed my eyes, and tried to imprint a memory on my heart, so that I purposefully take the time to revel in the moment... but there are so many other beautiful things that I rush through, not taking the time to drink them in fully, and they are lost in the busyness of ordinary days.

There was a lot of joy tucked in amongst the days of 2018, and feeling great was definitely a highlight, and perhaps too long overdue. It made everything brighter, and easier... and I celebrated it along the way. And on December 11th, on the first anniversary of my life changing successful surgery, I texted my brilliant doctor to thank him. He thanked us right back... for having faith in him, and for showing such patience. I think he can be a humble man, or perhaps the fact that he could not fix my urology problem made him humble. But he kept on researching, and took a chance with something new that he put his own twist on...and it worked. So I celebrate being able to pee... and the freedom that it has brought me in my mind.

This summer I felt free going to Africa, leaving behind the worry and fear.{I think Eric took them on, afraid that I might all of a sudden have a health issue...} I was so happy in Africa, feeling so much joy at our return to the place I fell in love with, afraid that I would never journey back to. I have yet to document the trip, and I'm pressing it on my heart to start soon... because there are incredible experiences to recall and share. Perhaps one of the most awe inspiring moments was when the elephants crossed the road. It was a trip of elephants, and they crossed the roads around us several times... but one morning we watched them gather on the plains, then circled back a while later to see that many more had joined them. And all of a sudden, as if they nodded to each other in agreement, they meandered to the road, and more than ninety elephants crossed before us and behind us. I could have rushed a thousand pictures then and there...but I chose to stop, breathe, and make sure to enjoy the extraordinary moment.

One of my big dreams of last year was to go to Iowa (yes, Iowa!) and see my son play the steel drums in person. I am ever thankful that YouTube can bring him into my living room, but something in me said I had to be there in person. When Camden gave us the concert date we figured out a way to make it happen, and a few days after Thanksgiving we made our way to Iowa. The concert was the main attraction for me... but the traveling and spending time with Eric gave me a joy all of its own. I just felt lucky to be there, grateful to have those days apart from the rest of real life. I knew Cam wouldn't have a lot of free time, so we would have to make our own fun...and we did. Those days have a glow about them in my memory... and I love that. And of course, the concert was fantastic - and when the professor announced that it was Camden's last, the emotions spilled over. I remembered how he didn't want to even try drumming in college, and how once he tried it out, at a new friend's urging, he fell in love with those pans. And I especially remember him telling me that his goal was to make it to the top steel band by his senior year... and he did. He has made a lot of things happen for himself in Iowa...

 Take time to remember... the grand moments and the small. They make us who we are, and help us to dream up the next adventure.
 

less broken

We walked in and out of his three month check up today... and as we were leaving, a woman came in on a backboard and stretcher for her own appointment. All at once I realized... that while I have been so thankful, I have not known the extent of how truly thankful I am. Not until that moment.  Life could be so very, very different right now.

I didn't really mean to leave you hanging here... but life kicked in and there was fiesta planning and Christmas preparations.  So let me pick up where I left off... in the emergency room.
: :
I wandered back and forth.  When he called for me, I sat by his side in the small room right next to the nurses station.  And when they slid him over to a new stretcher and wheeled him off for another x-ray, I made my way back to the waiting room, to update my friend.  The cycle continued for hours upon hours before there was finally news.  At least two broken vertebrae (turned out to be 3) and a transport to a different hospital.  I can't recall a time I was more torn... follow him downtown, or head home to children and a few hours rest.  He told me to go home, and even though I knew it was the right choice, it was so hard to send him off into the second ambulance of the night.
Morning came quickly.  I assured them and kissed them, let them know he would be okay.  I wrapped them up in my arms, perhaps more for me than for them, and headed straight for my sweetheart.  I'm not sure I was prepared to see him so broken and in such pain... even though only five hours had passed.  In the light of day, vision is so much more clear.  But in the face of the unknown, I stood strong, trying to convince myself I was.  Within minutes, the routine of x-rays continued... and there I stood, alone and unconvinced of strength.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  And before I could breathe in again, our friend Jim was in the doorway.  Hadn't I called him (far too early on a Sunday morning) only thirty minutes ago?  He had been on his way to church, and yet now here he was.

Nurses came and went.  Eric was wheeled out for test after test.  He was still in the bed, unable to move without great pain, and his breathing was labored and painful... lungs battered and bruised from the impact of the fall.  Doctors made quick reports with not-quite enough info, even they had to wait for puzzle pieces to come together before decisions were made, before surgery could be ruled out.  Through it all, friends and family and Eric's co-workers came by, offering anything and everything we needed.

It is what I choose to remember most.  The revolving door of people who love us.  A friend who sat and watched the whole Saturday night emergency room crowd come and go.  Another that put aside his true dread of hospitals and just showed up... every day.  Bleak days (five of them) were laced by their laughter, blessed by their prayers and presence.  I don't think I knew that there were people would go this distance for anyone... let alone us. 

The healing is almost complete.  Another month of intense physical therapy and the doctor expects he'll be back to making the world a safer place.  It has been a long road... but peace and grace have covered us along the way.  And your prayers.  When you sent me a note, I felt love... and when you commented that you were happy to see him up and around, I gave thanks for it all over again.  You have been a part of my healing... thank you.  We are a little less broken these days.



here are the other links of things I posted along the way:
-choose blessings
-holding on
-while we wait
-finding my way
-there is peace