The Blog of mamapolo

It snowed today in our home town. Big fat flakes swept down onto windshields and trees. Nurses and aides looked anxiously out the windows and told each other, "It looks like it's sticking."

The rehab where my husband is striving with every fiber of his being to get better and get home is situated on the grounds of a convent. The Byzantine Order of Sisters of St. Basil the Great acquired the property from a local coal baron in 1933.

The grounds are spacious and beautiful, dotted with gazebos adorned with mosaics of saints and the Holy Family, designed for prayer and contemplation. As a Baptist, I find the names of the buildings exotic. The Motherhouse. The Retreat Center. The Shrine of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. Driving through the estate at night, the warm glow of light through stained glass windows reassures me, convinces me that behind those stone walls, sisters of the order are praying. I like it that God's attention is drawn to the bed where my husband lies struggling (more and more successfully).

When the paid sitter, who is becoming a friend, came in to relieve me, we chatted for a while. I updated her on Tim's status, and she told me once again how much improvement she sees in a week. His weight was down to 107 - and has risen again to 115. Still not enough, but as with everything, better.

Tomorrow, for the first time, I scheduled 'help' until 4 pm, giving me most of the day off to attend to business matters, run errands (including buying an electric razor for my husband, making sure that the papers for my Family Medical Leave have been properly processed, and that the Power of Attorney I am trying to obtain is underway so I can pay for the sitters), do laundry, pet the dogs, and hopefully, sleep in a bit.

I scraped the ice off my windshield and then found myself without the energy to finish the job on the rest of the windows, so I sat in the Yaris while the defrosters front and back did their work.

The snowflakes swept silently down through the giant oaks that held up their bare arms to receive the blessing. The world was still, and that stillness was healing to me. There is never stillness in a hospital. Bells chime, alarms sound, voices cry out, staff laugh with each other, TVs blare. I sat there and felt my frazzled nerve ends knit again.

Finally, when the windshield was clear, I put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space and started down the sweeping lanes that lead out of the peaceful isolation of the convent and back into our small city. For the first time in very nearly four months (2 more days, and it is our 4 month anniversary of the original brain tumor diagnosis), I felt I would come back tomorrow and find continued improvement.

Today I told my husband that he has redefined nobility for me. He must feel like he fell into a meat grinder four months ago, yet throughout this nightmare he has (when he is himself) shown grace and strength and steel. He has fought when I would have rolled over and said, "Enough...just let me go."

As soft as down, as gentle as a hand in blessing, the snowflakes fell on the car and on the trees and on the wide open spaces. The stained glass windows shone with all colors of the rainbow. The voice of God spoke and said, "Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

With peace in my heart, I am going to sleep. I am upheld by the righteous right hand of God, and that is the only hand that could keep me from failing.

Good night, dear ones.