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

conversation hearts

Our mother-hearts conversed... her side spoke of a first Christmas, first steps and a birthday around the bend, while mine shared a college letter and a learner's permit.  Our voices were full of love and amazement, of our children and this time in our lives... but I could see, in her eyes, the weariness.  The harried heart of sitter-seeking and the exhausted wish that running in to grab a gallon of milk wasn't such a production.  Was she counting the years towards my independence?  I wonder if she could see, in my eyes, the grasping of moments.  That I might give up the ease of a sprint through the grocery store for a single last breath of their sweet baby scent?  The regret that I did not just hold them in my arms for all the hours of the day... because there simply wasn't one thing more important than our hearts beating in such close proximity? 

I am still learning that mother-hearts are never without ache.  And that even though we might be years apart in motherhood, the miles between our hearts are short.  And the distance between one and eighteen?  Try not to blink.   

more than a gift

have a playful spirit - be curious

find someone you really click with - sound out new ideas

glide through the day with ease - find your life's porpoise

jump for joy

{advice from a dolphin}

It was their big Christmas gift... a trip to Discovery Cove.  Outrageous?  Yes.  But the timing seemed right.  And when it came down to giving stuff or an experience & a memory, I realized that it was the perfect gift.  We laughed, we splashed, we talked and we really did enjoy the day.  As forcasted, the air dipped far below balmy, but the water was warm.  And once we were in... the fun hardly stopped.  Silvery fish swimming in schools, rays that glided through the water... all within reach.  And when it was time for our dolphin swim... the magic washed through all over again.  Stella, Mareyah and Diego... you are amazing creatures!

We lingered as long as we could... tired, but not quite wanting the wonder to end.  The sun was starting to set, and in the golden rays, I gave thanks.  For being able to give this to them.  For birds that reminded me of Africa.  

For the parks amazing ability to keep us warm.  For God's magnificent creatures.  For a day with my family that was as near to perfection as we might ever get.  And for children who feel the awe of it and are appreciative.  I knew they were... I could see it in their eyes and they said it outloud.  Yes, it was just the right gift. 

when the truth is enough

The new year comes and we celebrate.  With smiles and cheering laughter, with a toast and a kiss.  We hardly believe twelve is here... and we raise our glass to hope and love and living. The days to come are filled with the promise of the unknown, but for one pure shining moment, the glittering lights cast no shadow. 

Somehow though, before the sun even rises, declarations surround us.  That this will be the year I... or from now on I will...  I resist.  Me, who celebrates everything and gathers tradition tight to my heart... I resolve nothing.  I think I am afraid.  Or just, in one small instance, practical.  In all of my failing ways, I know that next time December comes around, I do not want to recall the ugliness of a broken resolution, or how I gave up, failed.  Again. 

Yes, there are ways I want to change... things that I want to banish... more I want to accomplish.  But to declare it... makes me want to run and hide.  So I keep my dreams close to my heart, I speak them in prayer to the One who loves me anyway.  And when I fall short, when I feel broken and not enough, I can know one thing.  I am a child of God... and succeed or fail, He loves me.  No goal or dream or word is more powerful than that. 

So when the world has travelled her path once more, and at the end of everyday from now til then... I will know I lived in the truth. A truth that comes to me rightly, and lovingly.  In all of the hope and love and living, I am a child of God, and that has to be enough... because it is everything.