This Day

I came across this scripture last week and it struck me in a meaningful way.  Regardless of the kind of day we are having, it is a gift.  It's another day that we have to figure things out, engage in the struggle, do a little better, be a little better.  We can grumble along, which I do so well...or we can do something called...

Rejoice.

Rejoice? What the heck is that?

Just kidding.  I can do that.

So, this week, we are spending the entire week in Salt Lake.  The city alone is a treasure trove of things I can so easily complain about, so this idea of rejoicing is big.  Shelbie is here doing her second ambulatory EEG.  The last time she did this was two years ago.   It's basically a crummy test to monitor her brain and try to understand why her seizures are increasing.  It's not painful but it is plenty uncomfortable.  We spend some time at the hospital each day but we have our afternoons and evening free.


Her head and chest are full of wires.  She has to have these glued to her body until Thursday.  It doesn't hurt but it is very uncomfortable.  She's had a bad headache since Monday and though unrelated, she continues to have fevers and now nausea has been a daily battle.  That new symptom has been ongoing for three weeks.

But...this is the day we have been given.  As we wander through the hospital, we see the kind of day that many others have been given and we look like we are living the good life compared to many we see.

As we stood in a back hallway, waiting for a slow and very old elevator to take us to the EEG labs, a woman of about 60 years old was tapping her way down the hall with her new stick that only blind people are gifted.  Behind her was what I deemed to be her sweet daughter.   The woman struggled to find her way down the open hall.  Immediately, I felt so much reverence for her.  As she passed in front of us, her rhythm had improved and she said aloud, "Okay, I think I understand this now.  I'm getting it, okay, alright..."  My inside voice wanted to praise her courage and I whispered to myself...Yes, this is the day you've been given!  This is your gift.

When we finished up, I had this great need to help someone feel like their day was a gift.  Each time we come to clinic, if things go awry or the doctor is overly late, they give us a gift card to the cafeteria, so I have accumulated a stack of these.  We walked through the cafeteria, on our way to the parking garage and bought a few people their lunch.  It made all of our own struggles seem to melt away.

Yesterday, we dropped off Swig cookies, (the most amazing sugar cookies...ever) to people waiting in the surgical waiting room.  We have fed a homeless man, and today, we will see what the day holds.

We've been able to spend some time with Spencer who is still quite sick but it's so nice to be with him.  I've talked to Sam plenty as he holds down the fort back home.

When we arrived on Monday, Shelbie joked with the guys that she considered skipping out.  The quick young men said, "We've had a lot of no shows lately but we knew you wouldn't be one of them."

"Really..." I said, "How do you seem so sure about that?"
"Because we looked at your records.  You have had 92 appointments and haven't missed a single one!  We were quite impressed."

92 appointments!! That is over 3 years but only 1 kid.  One of these days, I'll figure out how many the boys have had.  That's a big number.  Before the month is out, we will have reached 100 hospital visits for this girl...and me.

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