If I only had a brain...

Or at least a different one. To get you up to speed...In Feb last year I had a stroke. In July of last year I had a very bad seizure, ambulance to one hospital and helicopter to another. Was doing okay until November of this year when I had another seizure. Back to hospital, where they immediately whisked me off to another hospital capable of dealing with me.Now, I'm on seizure medications, have had some "breakthrough" seizures, and have had to double my medication dosage. Still can't drive. I'm being hauled everywhere by my patient and loving husband. My son now has more incentive than ever to get his license, and is slogging through the driver's ed curriculum. I'd be thrilled to have him driving,both for my sake and for his!In spite of all this, I'm happy! Either I don't get it, I'm more brain-damaged than I thought, or I'm in total denial. Don't care though. There's an incredible freedom that comes from having stared down the throat of death and disability, and been barfed back up on the shore. Gross visuals, I know, but I do feel a bit Jonah-ish. I didn't go into this kicking and screaming, but I am certainly glad to be in the beach again anyway. Enough for now. The hand dexterity required for typing takes a lot out of me, and besides, it's time for supper.

The Sacred and the Mundane

The Sacred and the Mundane

Why do we assign value to the parts of our lives, creating lists of Really Good Things, below that, Stuff That Just Happens, and way at the bottom, Junk We Get Through? There is a mindset that says that we work hard to get to the Good Things, and put up with all the other in order to get there. What happened to the value of everyday things?

For instance, as a home school mom, I find I have to “get through” those tedious days of memorizing the multiplication tables, or the screaming, hair-pulling days of complete rebellion (mine and my son's!). I stand it because there are those moments of crystal clarity, the times where you hold your breath and absorb the moment – that moment when he “gets it” or sees life in a new way, or melts your heart with thankfulness.

But what about the ordinary? Are there any rewards in Heaven for those of us that don't climb mountains or write novels or sing arias? Do we get credit for just doing our calling? Is the ordinary sacred?

I know we do, and it is. Think about the Levites, that special group of Hebrews who were set apart to keep the Tabernacle in the wilderness. They had different rules, were supported by the rest of the tribe – they were special! But think more about it. Besides caring for all the gold stuff, and doing the daily offerings, they had to maintain the Tabernacle. Let's really think about this. It was a goat hair tent, set up in the middle of the desert, where lots of people walked in and out and lots of butchering went on. They had to be janitors! In a really dirty environment! Do you think this was Junk To Get Through in order to be important Levities? No! This was as sacred to God as the rest of it.

So where do we go with this? I believe to to live life abundantly, we must live it fully. We should be as present in the mundane as in the amazing. Washing dishes can be a sacrament. Tucking in your children at night with love is an act of worship to their Creator. Simply being aware of what we are doing and why we are doing it can be as satisfying as the highest praise from someone else. Take time today to find the sacred. It's all around you, filling your life, but you must look for it.

Red visits friends

Orange vacations on the coast

Why Gummi Bears?

Good question? I spent the last week at Abbott Northwestern, some of it in a coma, most of it in the ICU and many days on a ventilator. If you've ever been on a ventilator, it gives you a tremendously sore throat. My mom brought me gummi bears to suck on; they are very soothing on the throat. So the pay back the helpful bears, I'm giving them a chance to experience the finer things in life, just like Flat Stanley.

Green Gummi at the Street Rod show

The Need to Look Forward

I found a fascinating first-person story of a woman's journey through stroke and recovery. It is word-for-word excerpts from her diary, interspersed with entries by her neurologist, Louis R. Caplan, professor of neurology at Harvard Medical School. He writes this:

Those who dwell on their handicaps trap themselves in the idea that they must be exactly as they were before the stroke. They remain eternal patients and often forget to live...Successful people do not swell on this loss of capabilities. They emphasize different directions. With time comes experience and changes in goals. directions and activities. Our lives are a series of changing passages.