Humility, Patience, And That Other Word
Getting toothpaste onto my toothbush.
Washing under my right arm.
Taking a lid off a jar.
Putting on socks.
Don't even think about shoes.
Oh, and typing.
I need help lately, in other words, and need to ask, which is the definition of humility I like best. I can't do this by myself.
And, as Julie brought up today, the patience required to dry oneself off after a shower with one hand can be a spiritual moment. Take your time, always, and see what you've been missing.
In my case, it was a spot on my lower back, but I concede the point.
There's been pain. Sometimes blood-draining, sweat-inspiring pain. I've grown very fond of ice packs and the occasional Percocet.
But with all of this, the minor inconvenience, the pain, the boredom, the need to be zipped up, came something I wasn't expecting. Although right on time, at least in the U.S.
Gratitude.
And I don't have to wait for Thursday.
It's a mystery to me why God, who I assume has a busy schedule, even with that omnipotence thing. has loaded my plate with blessings, but then there are lots of things I don't understand. So I'm just left with gratitude.
Nice nurses. A skilled surgeon. An apparently ridiculously healthy body, no thanks to me. Friends, family, food in the fridge, some money in the bank. Some degree of sanity. Certainly sobriety. Pinch me.
Sure, some of this is comparison shopping. It was pretty dark there for a while. I couldn't remember hope. There was some serious desperation, and now there's not.
But it's more than that. I have a sense that I forgot about more than hope. I have a sense that the future got fuzzy, and now there's some clearing going on.
I have a sense that God isn't finished with me yet.
So I'm grateful for this, and for you. For friendship, and counsel. For medical technology, and for old-fashioned knees-on-the-carpet prayer. For my daughter, heading home in four days, and for my son, holding the door open for me. For my wife's love and amazing endurance.
For chocolate, too.
And for the fall, and the Fall, to help me remember hope.
The sun also rises, you know. 
3:28:37 PM 
|
