One day turned into another, until somehow, a week had passed. There were all sorts of things going on. Daddy had doctor appointments, there was work and last but not least, the business of selling the rabbit patch.
Daddy has been diagnosed with a muscular condition. It has altered his mobility dramatically. There is really no treatment nor medicine to remedy this. The condition is diagnosed, based on symptoms -and also ruling out any possibility of some other hateful culprit. . .hence the appointments. Daddy does not like the many appointments but remains pleasant. He never fails to thank everyone at every office. It is a touching conclusion to each visit and moves me to tears.
Mama has gotten a lot busier. She is full of devotion to Daddys’ well being. Her fortitude is a testament and I am in awe of how she goes about her day. She is diligent with his medicine, indulgent with his food and stern about his hydration. Though she is very heartsick, about the circumstances, she plows head-long into each day with cheerfulness.
It humbles me, to know that this is where I come from-that these are the people I was given as parents. There is no doubt about it, I was “born with a silver spoon in my mouth”. Few things in this life are as valuable as good parents.
I am in Elizabeth City this weekend, where a restless river tumbles by. The weather is chilly and warrants a light jacket. The sun is muted by a thick blanket of clouds, and can not even cast a shadow, for the whole day is shadowed, really. A constant wind blows loosening a few leaves. Most of the leaves, save the dogwoods, have not changed yet, from how they looked in August. It may be Thanksgiving, as is not uncommon, in the south, before the fireworks of the flora brighten the countryside.
Will carved a pumpkin for Lyla, this morning. It was a complicated design and so the whole affair was tedious. Tonight, Will and Jenny are going to a gathering, just a few blocks away, at the Donahue family residence. The Donahues’ are always hosting a gathering of some sort, unless they are on the river, or hiking or on an island somewhere. They are the busiest folks I know of, yet never too busy to lend a helping hand. Many mornings, in fair weather, I will have coffee on the porch. The Donahues stroll by, on the fourth mile of their walk with their dogs. They had breakfast hours ago – and coffee. Michelle, thinks no more about hosting a party for forty guests, than I do for cooking supper.
I will tend to Lyla and Brynn tonight. By now, Lyla is a “piece of cake” to stay with and I am an old hand at it. This is the first time that Brynn will be without her mama and so we are all hoping for the best. . .especially me.
Now, about the rabbit patch . . .I had all sorts of thoughts, this past week. Many were gloomy and many were fearful. This all started in June, and June felt so very long ago. How could such a shock come up, now months later? It did not seem possible. Finally, I was able to have some clarity – this took days. At some point, I decided all was just as it should be, for I do not pray in vain. I settled on the notion, that I would be fine either way. Losing money and unpacking boxes are not the worst things that can happen to a person, after all.
I reminded myself to “practice what I preach” -that things do not have to make sense, all the time. (That is when faith is most crucial.) That “all things work together for good . . .” Many verses came to me – Be still and know that I am God” and a favorite of mine –“We walk by faith, not by sight.” I still cried, when no one was looking, not because I did not believe “what I preach” but because I was just sad. I chided myself for being sad. I felt as if in some way feeling so disappointed, was an act of betrayal on my part. At long last, I came to the sweet conclusion, that all was well and that part of being human, is a lack of understanding, at times. . .and part of being human is responding like a human to disappointments . . .and even worse, real tragedies. Disappointments are just inevitable, it is what we do with them that makes the difference . . .and it is ok to cry.
I found out on Saturday, that there is at least a bit of hope left, in the sale of the rabbitpatch. After living a week in such a state, I can say now, that I have less opinion about it, than I used to.