It’s a breathless feeling when your heart hurts. I guess
people can respond to it all sorts of ways, but I usually want to run and hide.
I don’t want to face the pain, the problem, the hurt. I want to leave it
straggling behind me. I learned this when Dany moved back in, and I couldn’t
face her struggling to get out the door when the bell rang for lunch. I caught
myself trying to walk ahead of her and not turn around—pain literally in my
chest.
She is back with me! After months and months recuperating
she is back. She can take steps, more if she uses a walker, but she spends most
of the day sitting in her wheel chair. I didn’t know what to expect or how she
would respond to the move, but she was ready for it! She listened as we had our
little dorm meeting, never cracked a joke or said ‘Yo no quiero hacer eso,” which often was her
response. One of the first things she asked
is what her chore would be, making sure she was treated like the rest. “Don’t treat me like I’m disabled.” I could
tell that in these 6 months she had changed.
I never expected to be so affected by having her back with
me. Every time I hear her drag her feet, or pound the walker down for support,
I can’t bare to look. I remember when
she was on top of our dorm pyramid, when she would dance to her favorite song,
and refuse to do her chore. Now she is hungry to do all the normal things that
she’s missed.
Although that thought causes my heart to break, I remember
the first nights in the hospital: the cries of pain, laying with her in bed
trying to take her mind away from the pain and boredom. I want to stare as she
combs her own hair, washes her breakfast plate, and takes the necessary
tiresome steps to walk to her bed at night.
It’s been only a week and my emotions are running wild just
seeing her everyday struggles. Please pray for her future, her vulnerability,
and her heart. Pray for my flinching, that in my weakness He will be strong. 
0 comments:
Post a Comment