On Sunday, my mother woke to another morning of shortened breath. It was bad. Worse than before. She was exhausted. COPD/Emphysema can do that. Her tears broke my heart. We piled in the Jeep and took a trip to the local
My son, who'd just been to visit us with his lovely wife, turned around and travelled the 2 hours back to our home to be with his grandmother, to encourage her, as only he (the asthmatic) could. Before he left to go back to his own home, the brakes on his car failed. He had no choice: borrow the beloved old Suzuki Samurai for the trip. It developed an engine knock before he reached his destination.
My daughter is pulled in so many directions: full-time job, full-time boyfriend, part-time counselor for international exchange students, grandmother in the hospital, father trying to hard to help her help me, and (bless her) she tries all the time to nurture me.
My husband tries to survive in a world spinning in an atmosphere of estrogen. He lives in this house with me, our daughter, my mother, and our sweet furry girl, Scarlett. He can't win. Pray for him, will you?
In the midst of all this, I am trying to work. A new-ish job. Still unsure, still learning.
So today: I wake up, eat, bathe, pray, and I'm at the hospital to visit with Mom before 8:00am. I'm there for the doctor's visit. Good news! Mom can go home today. Ok, I can work this. I head off to pick up items for my job, get lost on the way to the office, make a frustrating rescue call to hubby, find my way to work FINALLY. My volunteer arrives. She is a lifesaver extended to me in an endless sea, working with patience and kindness and smiles. Phone rings: yes, I will be at home to accept delivery of the nebulizer and walker for my mother, what time?, um, how about later?, ok, got it. Uh-oh, time to leave to pick up Mom at the hospital. Stop e-mailing, leave the rest of the work for later. Get in the Jeep. Hungry, diabetic. Get some fries (terrible choice!) and hit the road. Ugh, traffic... stop and go... gotta get into the tunnel and on my way... HEY, WHY IS MY CAR MOVING FORWARD, STOP, HONK. I've been rear-ended by someone who was rear-ended. Pull over, talk to trooper, fill out paperwork. Call husband so he can pick up Mom... no answer at work or cell phones. Call Mom at hospital to tell her I've been delayed... busy... busy.... busy... busy. Finally get Mom, tell her I'll be there soon. She reminds me that I have to go home first to pick up her portable oxygen tank. Right. Finish with trooper and other drivers, get back on the highway. Get hubby on phone and in frustration tell him that I need him to be accessible in case of emergency. Get home, change Mom's sheets so she'll have fresh bed to rest in, grab her oxygen tank, grab street clothes just in case she's not keen on the idea of wearing jammies home. Go to the hospital, get Mom discharged after straightening out prescription mistakes. Get Mom home and she realizes she's left her hand-crocheted afghan at the hospital. Go back to hospital, get afghan AND cell phone/gum/goodies left in her tray table. Head off to grocery to get her prescriptions filled. Drop RXs at pharmacy and start shopping for nutritious options for Mom meals. Shop, Shop. Go back to pharmacy 30 minutes later, still not ready, walk away only to be called back over store speaker. RXs ready, but one must be ordered and one is over-the-counter and available at service desk, pay $215. OK, check out with groceries, pay $45. OK, go to service desk for over-the-counter meds, wait 20 minutes behind ladies buying money orders and lottery tickets. Finally my turn, get meds, pay $12, leave store. Go home, cook dinner: broiled tilapia, mac and cheese, brussels sprouts, sliced pineapple. Call insurance company to file accident claim, schedule Jeep repair. Help Mom get a shower and shampoo and fresh jammies. Take time to write post and insert links for an update to work blog. E-mail a couple of friends an update on our situation. Decide that jammies are a good idea and get my own. *sigh*
As I sit down, I remember the blessing God sent me in the midst of this chaos: a sweet man at the pharmacy, a fellow customer. As we talk and bump into each other shopping later, I learn that he's in his 70's, stroke survivor, still maintaining lawns across our area, and that he's a pastor. I tell him a tiny bit of my day. He tells me that he's Too Blessed to be Stressed, and I agree that God is Good All the Time. He asks me if he can give me a hug, apologizing for the dirt from his day on the lawns of others. I accept, thankful for this show of love from my Lord.
God really is so good all the time, reminding us of His love and His abiding presence, even in the midst of the chaos. I am humbled and grateful.
Look for the blessings, friends. Look for the surprising moments that will bring you Light in the darkness. Look for HIM everywhere.