MARCH 15, 2023

 

If you've ever been on a walk, your thoughts might go toward your feet.  Do they feel ok?  Are the shoes fitting properly?  When your feet are your focus, nothing else matters. The smallest pebble can distract you to an absolute halt. 

 

Ed’s doctors encouraged him to “live life!” – what life he has left. Enjoy the family, the friends, the time. Create memories. Leave the grandchildren with memories. Best laid plans…

 

A trip to San Antonio was planned for February 18. A week long stay at an air B&B with Emily and her family, while James and Liz had a cruise planned for the same time.  We were ready to pack and go when a freaky thing happened to me. A boil on the top of my thigh began hurting the week before the trip, and so on Friday before we were scheduled to leave, I went to the doctor to have it lanced. When he saw it, he immediately sent me to the hospital for surgery. A week in the hospital spoiled our plans, and now I don’t know if we will ever get the chance again. I am undergoing daily wound care.

 

This pebble in my shoe has me totally distracted and emotionally, I have been extremely fragile, crying almost on demand and constantly stressed over Ed, our unfinished “affairs”, my serious consideration of retirement in the next year. Is this all part of God’s plan unfolding?

 

We, as Christians should attribute our confusion and anxiety to our resistance to “God’s plan” for us. Yes, I am certain He has a plan for me. But like any conceived plan, we are ever hesitant to take the first step, implement the preliminary moves, even embrace the plan with certainty and confidence. Life is nothing but a series of decisions. Those made with faith and surety sometimes don’t pan out. Is it due to our lack of faith? Like Peter, as he walked on water toward Jesus, the moment he was distracted; the instant he hesitated, he went under. So, I’m forever questioning whether it is my plan, or God’s plan that I’m clinging to. I’m trying not to sink. I'm trying to ignore the pebble.

 

The saddest part of any plan is that we leave people we love behind. My eventual retirement will not be the sweet chapter of my life that I will spend with Ed, enjoying our “golden” years. It is not meant to be – was never meant to be. So, what will await me, without him?

 

I adjust to what is presented daily. His weakness, his increased sleeping, the slow pace of the day for him. On Tuesday, he thought it was Saturday. The days run together for Ed; also for me. Routines are set around his sleeping, eating, moving to his comfy chair, to the backyard with his cigar and the dogs. Back inside again. Occasionally a visitor arrives, which is a welcome diversion.

 

The journey has been hard, will continue to be hard even when he’s not on the path beside me. But, in between the tears, the painful sense of diminishing life and the keeping it together, I have no choice but to move through each day, with my Hallow app, my friends’ prayers and encouraging words.  Oh yes, and the blue skies and warm sunshine that remind me I’m never really alone.