Two years ago on July 3rd, sometime around 6:00 in the evening, The Scout was climbing a tree when some branches broke. He fell twenty-three feet to the ground, landing on his back.
He was alone.
He got up and after several attempts, managed to walk home, grab an ice pack and lay down on the sofa. He was rather stoic but clearly in pain. The Barefooter went back to the site of the accident and retrieved his glasses for him.
The CT scans have been clear (no bleeding) and visits with neurology and physical therapy have made very little difference. He has seen an osteopath. He has a new neurologist.
The Scout graduated from high school last month, miraculously earning A’s and B’s from the few classes he could manage. We are grateful for his 504 Accommodation and the support and understanding from the school staff, teachers and counselor. Graduation and finally earning his Eagle Scout rank have been highlights of the past year.
This young man does not give up. He does not complain. He would rather be busy and doing something rather than sitting around waiting to feel better. He persisted in looking for a part-time job and spent the last weeks of high school doing both school and work.
This young man wrote a short story for my Mother’s Day gift this year. With one of his first paychecks, he purchased a nice steak as a Father’s Day gift. This is who he is. Even without these gifts, we are so grateful to have our son with us. He’ll be turning 19 years old in a few short weeks.
We keep hoping and praying for positive change and full recovery.
My friend ~A~ and I marched this afternoon. Our city had its march on Sunday, on the one-year anniversary of the 2017 Women’s March. There were people of all ages, families spanning generations, males and females. There were strollers and walkers and wheelchairs.
Since we were lucky enough to be near the front of the parade of marchers, we were able to station ourselves near the end and take photos after we were finished marching. I was lucky enough to have such a good friend who made my sign for me; I gave her the words and she took care of the artistic part.
I didn’t march last year; I’d scheduled that day to visit our grandson. This year, we’d just seen them 2 weeks ago and it was past time for me to put my body and voice where I might be seen and heard because silence is not golden. Love trumps hate, and I choose to persistantly stand on the side of love.
My feet hurt tonight but it was worth it.
For many reasons, 2016 is a year that can’t end soon enough. Not only was a misogynistic, racist serial liar (just to name a few of his well-documented traits) elected as the next President of the United States, but the world lost some amazing artists as well.
Sometimes it’s hard to see the beauty around us when so much bad stuff is in the news.
But I see the light of hope shining in the efforts of so many people.
The darkness cannot overcome the light.
And even in the unpleasantness, there are moments of beauty to be enjoyed. We only need to be watching for the opportunities that surely await us.
Dale Chihuly’s incredible artwork: old wooden fishing boat filled with blown glass
Looking at these images, I am prompted to wonder what I am carrying about inside of myself. What do others see? Am I carrying beauty or ugliness? Anger or forgiveness? Harm or helpfulness?
And I wonder why we worry so much about what our boat looks like instead of being concerned about the quality of the things we carry.
Today I am reading the sixth chapter of Luke (New Testament). There are a lot of good things there to share, including the Beatitudes and the example of removing a plank from your (my) own eye before trying to remove a speck from someone else’s eye.
On judging others:
37 “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. 38 Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” Luke 6:37-38