As I prepare for a temporary change in my life, I’m doing things like
checking the width of my wheelchair versus interior doors,
and investigating rehab facilities for post surgical recovery.
God has been so far out in front on this one, that I am amazed.
I’ve said for a zillion years that He wasn’t looking the other way when I collapsed on the floor from a stroke, and He isn’t distracted with concerns more important than mine right now. He’s like that – utterly present for each of us.
I care about where I might go after I leave the hospital. He cares too. And it’s interesting to me to connect the dots and see what has linked together.
A number of years ago, I started attending a church because my grieving mom just couldn’t go alone after my dad died. I could help her with that. I loved church, I love my mom. I could do that.
But she also wanted me to go with her to her Sunday school class. Filled to the brim with elderly church members. To. the. brim.
But I went. And I kept going, Sunday after Sunday after Sunday…after Sunday.
To my utter and complete surprise, I fell in love with that class. With those people. With my friends.
Here’s the thing: When you fall in love, you simply see the good. You look, and it’s everywhere. It’s like all you can see, you’re so love-struck.
This class of elderly people is filled to the brim with wisdom, and experience, and opinions, and heartbreak. Tenacity. Graciousness. Intellect.
Next time you are tempted to tell some little old lady how darling she is, or how cute her handbag is, look into her eyes and see a woman who bravely faced breast cancer, the death of her spouse or child or who raised her children alone, went to college before women widely did so, who protested a war or started a company. Recognize that he , just like you, worried about his family, worked whatever jobs he could to keep food on the table, and is struggling to age with dignity.
My roommates at the rehab facility will no doubt be elderly.
I already love them.