My blog posts aren’t coming weekly as in the past, but I have been writing every day. With a pen and a little notebook given to me while in the hospital, I’ve written about each day since my homecoming, brief accounts of what I did, who I talked to, what we ate for lunch and dinner, and what challenges were faced and met. I’ve taped a Speed Bump cartoon on the cover of my little notebook, one that says, “Dear Diary, I have to make this quick, I think my blog is on to us.”
I guess I’m choosing an easier form of writing by recording what has already happened, not doing much analyzing, not anticipating that anyone else will ever be interested in what I’ve written in the journal. But, somehow it feels worthwhile to me, capping off each day with a little task completed regardless of how tired I feel, knowing that these days matter, that I can keep them in order and revisit them in the future. I’ve been home for 144 days after have back surgery on January 28 and spending nearly a month hospitalized. They are days of weakness and strength, days of a simple life that is pretty difficult, days of healing and growing, days that are passing quickly, days filled with God’s grace.
My short entries are a bit sloppy, do not contain well-crafted sentences, and do not hold deeply profound thoughts, unless you consider facing another day with a physical challenge profound, or preparing meals and enjoying them with your family profound, or taking pleasure in nature’s beauty profound, or having a chance encounter with another person profound, like I do. Writing down the details of each day helps me remember and appreciate each profound moment and to anticipate, even pray for, more of them.
When I look back at the first dozen journal entries, I’m both humbled by how much help I needed and amazed at what I was able to accomplish. Every day I performed a task that had seemed insurmountable. I wrote about some of that progress in “So How Am I Doing?” I recorded how I gradually became more self-sufficient, as well as the gratitude I felt for the sweet and useful things done for me by family and friends. I wrote about every day chores that now felt deeply satisfying, things like folding my husband’s shirts and being able to prepare my own food and get it to the table, about walking around the house putting things away, first with my walker, then with my cane.
You might wonder why I take the time to write down who I ate with and what we ate for lunch and dinner each day. I wondered, and then realized that this is our life together and with God. It is a great blessing to have food to prepare and eat, to sit down across from the person you love and enjoy a meal, giving thanks to God, and to be sustained by the food until the next meal. Yes, it is worth recording, profound.
Our Easter Dinner after Church
I wrote about visits from my family, my friends, and my physical therapist, who gave me hard things to do so I would realize that I could do them. I recorded my goals, sometimes with an expression of doubt that I’d be able to reach them, usually followed on another day by one of my Four Sayings, “It was hard, but I did it!” On some days, there were great achievements – returning to worship services, to MOPS as a Mentor Mom, to Bible study, to Winners Walk Tall to see The First Graders, to my volunteer position at our church. All of these events, plus our overnight trip to Cleveland for my six-week post-op appointment with my surgeon, as well as our weekend trip for the Frisch Family Fish Fry and Mother’s Day with my mom, have been briefly documented.
Oh, and the outings with my husband, as well as by myself. They’re in the journal. I was happy to note that I could drive with ease, that Dave had taken me to Oglebay Park to walk around, that we made it to a play done by East Richland Christian School students and to a Wheeling Symphony concert, that I went shopping at JoAnn Fabric, and at Ollie’s, that I’ve been able to take a couple of meals to others who have had surgery, and to go alone to Wheeling for a doctor’s appointment. Profound? Yes.
First trip to Oglebay Park
And what about the people? Because of my temporary handicap, I’ve been out in public with a walker, a cane, and a walking stick. Every where I go, strangers take the time to open and hold doors for me. I write that down. And it seems that I usually encounter someone I know when I’m out and about. They want to know how I’m doing and I tell them the truth, that it’s hard, but God is with me every day. I write down the names of people I talk to on the phone, see in the grocery store or while I’m out walking. I’m amazed at the end of the day when I stop and think about each interaction, most of which I did not plan, each of which was in some way profound. Yesterday, as I was thinking about writing a blog post, I was surprised by a phone call from a neighbor who blessed me with a gift of food and some wonderful conversation. I’m embracing these God-ordained moments.
There are lots of reasons to keep a journal. I read about seven of them HERE, and felt better about choosing my journal writing over blogging when I noticed #5 – To Practice the Writing Craft. I write mostly because of #2 – To Have a Tangible Account of God’s Blessings. These are not days that I want to relive. They’re difficult at times and I wonder sometimes if my nerves will completely heal. But, I sense that they are important days that are bringing changes in me beyond physical healing. I want to remember them, so I record the simple details of these profound days.
A frog along the path I walk
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be. Psalm 139:16