I’ve Been Gifted Today
I woke up this morning, foggy with sleep but keenly aware that today was October 25th. I whispered in the darkness “thank you for today”.
I won’t miss a minute of gratitude today:
My husband singing around the house while he readied for work.
My son’s growing strength as he squeezed me in a tight morning hug.
The sun painting the sky with dawn’s first golden hues.
My eldest daughter preparing to help lead the song service at church.
My youngest daughter’s clunk, clunk, clunk down the hallway in her fancy shoes.
My middle daughter’s eyes twinkling as she held my plate of toast so I could drive us in to town.
The smell of fresh movie popcorn coupled with the sound of children laughing again at work.
The sense of team as people came together with a common goal.
Little voices singing “Waymaker, miracle worker, promise keeper, light in the darkness…”
Teenagers sharing loudly whispered stories.
Setting up tables to feed a crowd for lunch.
Beaming alongside a friend while coaching children to step out and conquer their fears.
A heart-to-heart with a cherished friend along the autumn coloured river’s edge.
No, I won’t miss a minute of gratitude today.
A year ago tonight I lay in a hospital bed, weary and relieved to have surgery behind me. I’d been in and out of hazy recovery for hours. My parents and husband had been there all day. My children had each visited briefly before my husband took our babies home to tuck in bed. My best friend had popped in for a visit and as she was preparing to leave, I suddenly realized that I was terrified to be alone.
I smiled and clutched my stomach in physical protest as I laughed at her stories but as she gave me a hug and headed down the hallway, a sob caught in my throat. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I struggled to breathe. Two years of fighting heath issues had left me mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted. I had been consumed with getting through each day but somehow, I’d believed that if I survived the surgery, I’d have won the battle. Now a different fight was before me and I’d have to do it alone.
Over the next weeks I would realize that the journey toward healing was much longer than the 6-8 week window the Doctors had suggested I would need to take off work. All of the energy I had exerted to keep going and pushing my body was now directed towards my healing, my physical and emotional healing. Hours alone, for the first time in years, too tired to read or write or even watch tv, God brought clarity to many of my relationships, fresh understanding to my work, calling versus busyness, deeper longing for my family, grief over time wasted, determination to use my voice for good, humility as I faced my dependence on others, acceptance of my vulnerability, and recognition of my pride.
As the fog in my brain began to clear, the darkness replaced with light and my emotions once again grounded in truth, I’ve been overwhelmed with His grace for me and how very blessed I am. For many months of sickness, I chose joy. I desperately sought out moments to cling to. Today, I feel a deep-rooted sense of joy and gratitude. I wouldn’t have chosen to live through the last 3 years this way but today I’d dare say I’m grateful for some of the changes I see because of them.
A year ago, I slept alone in a hospital bed. Months of medical procedures and medication had left me wondering if I had any more fight in me. I worried and wondered if I’d have another night to rest in his arms, if I’d watch my littles grow, if I’d get to pour my energy into my work again, laugh and share stories with my best friend again.
Tonight, I’ll lay my head in the crook of his arm, while the house sleeps. You bet I’ll savour the moment. I’ve been gifted another day.
