remembering "i do."
Hey, hey you…
She grabbed my sleeve as I tried to slip by through the locked door to the nurses station. But my escape was nearly impossible—her grip was strong & she was determined to talk to me. Her wheelchair sits parked by the entrance to the nurses station each day—from morning to night, only leaving for meals in the solarium & her daily washing by a nurses aid in the afternoon.
Hey…you know what?
What, I replied, trying to be patient. She still had a death-grip on my sleeve.
You know, I’ve been thinking.
Her eyes sparkled—i noticed that they were more alive than many of the patients on the floor. And behind the mask of age spots & wrinkles, underneath the overgrown gray hair & stained lime green sweatshirt, I saw a young girl. Twelve years old, or so.
I’ve been thinking that, when I grow up…I think I’d like to be a counselor.
Well you should! When you get out of here, you should be a counselor! I bet you could help lots of people after what you’ve been through…
Well, she hesitated for a moment, face coy she looked down, I just don’t think I have the mind for that….
I missed Jon. My mind just couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that our time living apart may someday be a thing of the past…and although this labile patient’s mood was kind today, I just didn’t want to listen to her. i wanted to be with my husband. Away from this place. Away from these people. Away from being forced to learn things I had no interest in.
…but you know what I really want to be!!?
Her grip on my sleeve loosened. The edges of her chapped lips curved upward.
I really want to be a wife. a really good wife to a good husband.
She grabbed my sleeve as I tried to slip by through the locked door to the nurses station. But my escape was nearly impossible—her grip was strong & she was determined to talk to me. Her wheelchair sits parked by the entrance to the nurses station each day—from morning to night, only leaving for meals in the solarium & her daily washing by a nurses aid in the afternoon.
Hey…you know what?
What, I replied, trying to be patient. She still had a death-grip on my sleeve.
You know, I’ve been thinking.
Her eyes sparkled—i noticed that they were more alive than many of the patients on the floor. And behind the mask of age spots & wrinkles, underneath the overgrown gray hair & stained lime green sweatshirt, I saw a young girl. Twelve years old, or so.
I’ve been thinking that, when I grow up…I think I’d like to be a counselor.
Well you should! When you get out of here, you should be a counselor! I bet you could help lots of people after what you’ve been through…
Well, she hesitated for a moment, face coy she looked down, I just don’t think I have the mind for that….
I missed Jon. My mind just couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that our time living apart may someday be a thing of the past…and although this labile patient’s mood was kind today, I just didn’t want to listen to her. i wanted to be with my husband. Away from this place. Away from these people. Away from being forced to learn things I had no interest in.
…but you know what I really want to be!!?
Her grip on my sleeve loosened. The edges of her chapped lips curved upward.
I really want to be a wife. a really good wife to a good husband.
i was taken-aback.
Well…maybe someday, I replied as my mind tried to grasp what God had just shouted at me through an old woman pinned to a wheel chair.
I am one of the lucky ones. Of the millions of women in this country, this world, who long to find “their someone”—the ONE they feel that connection with, I HAD HIM. and certainly not by my own doing.
How had I ignored so much? Become so calloused as to not even breathe in the miracle of marriage? Of our marriage?
My keys jingled in my hand & after a few seconds I found the one I needed to unlock the door. But as I walked through it, I couldn’t help to glance back at her.
Thanks, God. I needed the reminder to be grateful for our marriage, our friendship, our love. Help me to trust you more.
Well…maybe someday, I replied as my mind tried to grasp what God had just shouted at me through an old woman pinned to a wheel chair.
I am one of the lucky ones. Of the millions of women in this country, this world, who long to find “their someone”—the ONE they feel that connection with, I HAD HIM. and certainly not by my own doing.
How had I ignored so much? Become so calloused as to not even breathe in the miracle of marriage? Of our marriage?
My keys jingled in my hand & after a few seconds I found the one I needed to unlock the door. But as I walked through it, I couldn’t help to glance back at her.
Thanks, God. I needed the reminder to be grateful for our marriage, our friendship, our love. Help me to trust you more.
2 comments:
okay. so that was just perfect. aren't we incredibly blessed to be reminded Who has written our stories. they are love stories for the history books. ;)
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