I'm a worrier. I am a planner. And I'm a little bit OCD. I like my house very neat and clean, I vacuum my car every week and I have lists for my lists. My life is very organized. My day planner plays second fiddle in importance only to The Bible. If the laundry begins to pile up or my "to do" list gets too long, I get a little bit crazy. When I am under stress, cleaning and putting things back in order gives me a sense of control again. I like to live my life skipping merrily down the path with as few yield signs as possible. When I find myself contemplating setting tomorrow's supper table today or making an unnecessary stop at the store because I finished the rice and grocery day is four days away, I know it's time to reign myself in. Sometimes though, I just get so focused on that merry little path, I fail to see the flowers or trees, the yield signs or even the stop signs. I've set my engine on cruise. That's when God steps in and reminds me what is important. He throws a little speed bump my way to remind me to slow down. Recently though, I think he put my little path under road construction! A little speed bump wasn't going to slow me down. I found myself, along with my husband, at my father's bedside watching him struggle for life. As I sat there quietly holding dad's hand, listening to the rhythmic sounds of the equipment keeping his body functioning, gazing around at all the monitors and tubes, I had a lot of time to think and reflect. More importantly, I had a lot of time to pray. I was in a room I'd never been in before, in a hospital I wasn't familiar with, in a state far from home. I was living out of a suitcase and existing on hurried meals in the hospital cafeteria. I was whispering words of encouragement to my father to fight hard for life and I was praying, begging God to heal him. As I watched my step mom grieve with every setback and rejoice with every victory and as I watched highly trained doctors and nurses work to save lives and comfort families; my dirty kitchen floor and half completed grocery list at home became so unimportant. The only thing on my mind was seeing my father's body heal. In the last 10 days of my life, I am certain I have talked more to God, than ever before. And He has listened and answered me. My little path of contentment has been under construction and I don't mind the detour at all. I just want the people I love to be healthy and happy. Nothing else seems to matter anymore.
This past weekend, my husband and I set our sights for home again, facing a 22 hour drive, non-stop. Halfway home, around 3 am on a quiet highway in Tennessee, our truck broke down. We had to call for police assistance then a tow truck and finally, we had to sit for about 8 hours at a car dealership while the parts were obtained and our truck was repaired. When we finally pulled in our driveway at home, it had been over 40 hours since we'd slept and we were tired and dirty and functioning on auto pilot. My heart and head were still back in that hospital room with my dad, but I was back home. Had I been skipping merrily down my path when the truck broke down, I would've been incredibly upset, frustrated and afraid. I would've complained because it was 50 degrees out and I was cold. I would've obsessed about the cost and the loss of time. I probably would've indulged in a little self pity. But after the last week , seeing how precious life itself is and realizing how deeply I love and hurt, our experience was just a hiccup. Rather than focus on the negatives, I realized how blessed we were to encounter such helpful people.There was the police officer who went out of his way to help us and pointed us in the right direction for help on a Saturday morning. There was the night janitor at the dealership who let me in to use the restroom at 4am. There was the service manager who showed up at work an hour before opening, who made us coffee and invited us to wait inside. I took the lemons that I was handed and made lemonade. It quenched my thirst and it was delicious! Maybe tomorrow, I will try a different road from the one I generally travel.
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