Dance in the Rain

I'd been feeling just a tad sorry for myself because it seemed like all I did was work full time, be a full-time caregiver, struggle with technology (trying to set up new irascible smartphones), and sleep. When I could sleep.

Christmas gifts were late. I had no time to sew, quilt, design or crochet. I barely had time to write in my journal each night. It's dark when I go to work in the mornings, and it's dark before I get off in the evenings. I'd lost most of the unedited photos I'd taken in the last two years. We were starting over on a new year of health insurance deductibles. There had been a handful of deaths, two in the extended family. And I still can't get rid of the aphids on my indoor pepper plants.

Grrr!

Then I (belatedly) read Roger Allen's blog post about living intentionally. I stopped to ponder for a few minutes if I was guilty of simply existing when I could have been living intentionally.

One of the first eye-opening revelations I realized when I stopped to look back at me in the last few weeks was Lizard's life. He got a brand new knee for Christmas. But brand new doesn't mean everything works as good as new right away.

In late December and all January mornings when I could walk on the greenway before boarding the train for work, I could. Even if only for five or ten minutes. Lizard could not.

When I couldn't sleep at night, it wasn't because of pain. If only Lizard could have had nights so easy.

When I mourned because I couldn't do the things I wanted to do, I forgot I was serving someone very important to me every single day. Lizard was unable to return the favor for a long time. (He is making dinner for us by himself for the first time since surgery as I type this post!)

After Lizard began to heal from the surgery a bit and grow in independence, I knew the day will come when I can do other things. Lizard still is not sure if he will be able to do all the things he could do before the surgery.

When I had moments I just needed a breath of fresh air at home, I could step out on the porch for a few minutes. At work, I couldn't step outside, but I could step away from the computer for a minute or two. For two weeks, Lizard had no such luxury. Now he's healing, and he's able to move around independently, but he still can't come and go when and where he pleases. Tremendous pain hasn't evaporated, either.

When I get discouraged because it feels as if things will never change, I can (although I sometimes forget to) make lemonade from my lemons. Try to make the best of my situation and look forward to a bright future.

Lizard has had many days in the past two months when he was not sure he will fully recover from surgery. Even if he is able to drive and get on a bike somewhere down the road, the Parkinson's is not going to heal. It is not going to go away. And there is a likelihood it will get worse.

When Lizard gets discouraged and fearful things will never get better, he tries to remember Linda Olson, who lost three limbs as a young mother many years ago and then in 2015 was diagnosed with Parkinson's. As if she didn't already have enough trauma!!! She tries to maintain a cheerful outlook and has never stopped going and doing. Lizard wants to tackle life with the same gusto.

Kind of makes my woes seem a little piddly.

Time to pick myself up, dust myself off and sing a happy tune.

Tweet

Pin It