While fully in the trenches of healing crises, there isn’t a whole lot of psychic space for terror to lodge. The tasks of diagnosing and triage take center stage.
But now, now that Jameson is home and convalescing the awareness of vulnerability is immense.
Who knows where he picked up the virus that is taking his body hostage? Who knows what sort of calumny lingers for us each? Who knows?
A gifted healer friend offered to come over last night to offer healing for Jameson. He agreed that it would be good. Unable to be there, I asked her afterward how she experienced Jameson.
She said this: “He is a boy/man going through his first health crisis. (He is) learning to take it seriously and appreciating the support of family, faith and friends.”
What a prayer, those words.
We are, each one of us, experiencing the incredible vulnerability of living in bodies that sometimes falter. We sometimes take that seriously. If we are wise, we live gratitude for the support of family, faith and friends.
This gift of life is so very fragile.
God grant us wisdom, grace, and reverence for the living of these days.
I had a treat this week; I got to spend time with old friends.
I’m in that gap time as a children’s book junkie. My children are in their twenties. They are not in the child producing stage of life. Thus, I have no reason to indulge my delight in children’s literature. The books my children grew up with are nestled in a book-case at the cabin, awaiting the first grand baby. There is precious little picture book reading going on in my life.
But, since I was invited to a baby shower I got to lose myself in picture books this past week. My children’s favorite authors are still delightful, and it was fun to see what else is going on during my absence from the scene.
Reading to my kids was one of the many favorite things I got to experience as a parent of wee ones.
As I was thinking about the joy of books and laps on that day, I was jolted by the sight of a three year-old in a stroller watching a video on an IPad as her mom wheeled her through the mall. It made me sad and worried, both (I sound like one of those judgmental old people; forgive me!).
For my kids (there I go again…) going to the mall and looking around and seeing people and talking with their mom was entertainment galore. Was it always pretty? No. They got bored and restless and during such times a book was always ready to keep them distracted.
And televisions in cars? Don’t get me started…
What I am hoping is that cellphone gadgets and electronic diversions don’t replace the joy of a picture book and the fallow-time goodness of imagination.
How full can a life be if we never have a chance to learn about the day that Jimmy’s boa ate the wash???