[Written on May 20, 2021]
Molly has just left to walk across the street to our small apartment we call home. Scores of programs go on here, led by people in different colored uniforms. Three different “therapy” sections, occupational and a couple others. They’re all here to help. But they announce themselves at my door ready to claim the next half-hour of my time, to teach me how to swallow, or to use unused muscles again, how to stay balanced, or how to use legs and feet again. In short, to prepare us patients for the world.
That is, the world of home, the medical world, with too many dimensions to count. And too much that was too complicated to try to count.
That, beginning tomorrow, my 92nd birthday. I must try to count, try to understand, try to use, try to bring back that old familiarity of long life.
The task is daunting. Am I a little afraid? Yes, I am a little afraid. I must try to perform at a level that meets the speed and accuracy, confidence and competence that will allow me to “pass.” To get by. To be adequate.
So many have prayed, and have thrown their love into the mix. Dear Molly, herself, has worked so hard to help me be ready for the change at considerable cost to herself.
My great hope is Jesus, who said – repeatedly – “Be not afraid.” God will take care of me. I know it. I must believe it. I must trust. I must follow Joan of Arc, who said, “I must dare, and dare, and dare, until I die.” Only God can make it happen, can make me “adequate.”
Perhaps little steps, at first, will be right. Jesus practiced His whole ministry “one step at a time.” And of course, that Sunday in Pentecost. The Day of the Spirit, Whom Jesus said He would send, to lead us.
I count on that. I want so much to get “back to my life.” But, it won’t be mine. It will be Jesus’ life for me. He will show me the life – starting tomorrow. When I get to face friends again. Help people again. Be a useful person again. Hear the signals of the Savior – and FOLLOW.
Help me, Jesus, to do exactly that. And take every hand held out to me. And keep me going.
Your prayers have kept me alive. I know my life itself is a miracle. So – I cling to that. My wonderful family of faith will help me. Thank you. Thank you!
Your brother, Arthur
Arthur A Rouner, Jr -
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