I have not stopped giving thanks for you,
remembering you in my prayers
Today my sister and I were reminiscing. We like to do that sometimes, remembering our shared past with our unique perspectives. We talk of places we lived (we moved a lot growing up), we talked about that Christmas in Farmington, NM, when I was four and she was nine and we each received the tall-as-me-walking-dolls. We remembered Grandma’s homemade donuts dipped in sugar and milk in FireKing mugs.
Today my sister took a day off of work to take care of me. She did my laundry and cleaned my carpets, put away Halloween decor and did the dishes.
Today I tried to remember how to walk.
I tried to keep my balance and put one foot in front of the other and ignore the pain. I worked hard at physical therapy. I tried to remember how it feels to be healthy.
I cried a little in frustration. But then I remembered.
I remembered the day my friend drove across the state just to stay with me at the hospital.
I remembered the sunrises my daughter and I watched together from my hospital window, hugging mugs of coffee and drinking in a life restored.
I remembered the day I came home, nine days after the day that changed my life. I made it up the ramp with my walker, through the laundry room and into the doorway to my kitchen, to my family room and there I stood. Home. Alive.
I remember three months of meals delivered by friends and strangers alike, of friends cleaning my house, caring for my children, letters and gifts, flowers and hugs.
I remember when my massage girl asked if she could take care of me and rubbed my aching muscles with a mother’s tenderness.
And my tears of discouragement become tears of gratitude.
Tears of joy.
I will never forget.
I will always remember.
Whatever happens in my life is not only about me. My life can bring Glory to God. They can see me and behold the glory not of me, but of my Savior. That is my desire.