The end of June found me weak. Battered and bruised.
Unable to stand for any length of time on my own.
Needing assistance to bathe and dress.
No longer able to drive. Shop. Cook. Play with my grandchildren. Go anywhere, do anything independently.
The Hallmark Channel, my chair, pajamas, a coral bathrobe, blanket, and fuzzy socks; how I passed the time.
I received my teacher’s contract in the mail. I held it tightly in my hand. Knowing what I had to do. Knowing, once I cut the strings, life would never be the same.
I hung on as long as I possibly could and still be fair to my Director, my school, my co~workers.
We made the seven minute drive. Pulled into the parking lot. Swallowing back the tears, I went through the door. In my heart, I knew, I was going in my last time as a teacher.
Cutting ties to the last of what was.
It was much harder than I imagined. I was not just leaving a job, a ministry, people I loved. I was severing a way of life. My identity. My independence.
A wounding to my heart, that would leave an imprint, in the days and months to come.
We made our last big trip in July. Clearwater, Florida. The ten hour drive we stretched over two days, to make it easier on me.
I was becoming more and more incapacitated by the day.
My precious Mama found a wheelchair; made arrangements to get it to us by way of my Soul Sister, before our trip.
My running legs…traded in for wheels.
My sweet man would push me around.
We made it to the ocean’s edge.
I put my toes in the shifting sand. The soft surface giving beneath my feet. Foamy salt water swirled about.
This way, now, my life.
The shifting ground. The swirling about.
The holding up.
The trip to Clearwater, a Sabbath rest. Space and breath for the journey ahead.
“But, what if God is longing to take us on a journey, not for us to succeed, but to be changed~because He is with us?” Bonnie Gray
We had a diagnosis.
Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. P.O.T.S. for short.
We had an appointment at Duke Dysautonomia Clinic, August 9. And so we wait.
Gifts of Grace