One of those days

“It’s going to be one of those days,” I mumble, out-of-breath, to no one as getting myself dressed seemed more like a physical therapy exercise than anything else. The past week was filled with fun in preparation for my sister’s baby shower we hosted here on Sunday. Between the shopping, decorating, planning games and cute snacks–and all the relatives popping in and out at various times–I pushed my body to keep with the flow as best possible, all the while knowing things are still changing. I dismissed the left eye increase fuzz on terms of fatigue..and it probably could be part of it, but it is there and I just kept it in the back of my mind…I can still see, but sometimes wonder for how much longer.

Of course I shouldn’t think like this, but since I did and books have been on my mind anyway–in the aloneness of my room after saying goodnight to all, I would stand at my bookshelf and think. When God puts it on your heart to let go, you should let go. I have learned many deep lessons in this…some were excruciatingly difficult and others like my shoes and music came with ease. And now books. I still have a full shelf of books and use books with decorating my dresser top–so I did not give all, but found myself in the middle…like the process of transition from once being able to hold and enjoy leisure reading of paper, now to either reading it on my Nook (which I am thankful for), or take the paper and focus my eyes in good lighting, using the bifocals–one word at a time.

I have always been a good reader, so reading slow is probably the transition that bugs me most. Or some books I gave,because I could not hold them…my eyes are not the only thing that has changed, my hands as well. And today, as I tried reading a paper book in the morning sunlight, I found my match with frustration of slow blur, set the book down and got up from my chair. I gave up. It was one of those days where I had to be reminded that I can still enjoy things while I can. Even if it’s different from before, even if it means enjoying the slowness of time taken, even if it means letting go of my former self and embracing transition.

I sat down on the sofa; my walker filled with things to take back to my room. I wanted to open today’s mail in part of my “putting things back in place” process, as I had made an unorganized mess while writing letters all afternoon. I usually get trash mail or health related envelopes, but today, I received an envelope from my friend who founded Street Church and still runs the program to this day. After being part of the ministry myself for over five years, they are like family. The kids changed my life in more ways than I can express in words. I turn the envelope over and there was a small note–I had to use the magnified glass to read it, but it simply said that one of the girls, who was in my group all those years and now in high school, wanted me to have this:

I unfolded a sheet of yellow construction paper…colored marker speckles in the background, a simple heart drawn in the middle with one word inside–Hope.

I started crying and said, “Right now I don’t have much.” It has been one of those days. But through the faith of a child, I saw hope on a single sheet of construction paper, drawn and given in love.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”

Matthew 19:14