"Stairs or elevator; stairs or elevator... Nine flights of stairs is ridiculous, plus Chris probably needs you Right Now. But, you're doing a lot of sitting lately..."
In the morning, stairs usually win; in the afternoon it's elevator.
This is my corner by the window with my essentials: cancer psalm, Bible, something by Dallas Willard, poetry book compiled and illustrated by Sarah the Great, daily thoughts from C.S. Lewis, Good Poems for Hard Times, A Memory of Light (book 14 of The Wheel of Time), knitting project, coffee, headlight* - uncool but effective, iPad and headphones because when all else fails, there are six seasons of 30 Rock on Netflix.
Visitors. Jason drives down from Dallas for a day whenever we're in the hospital. Who knew when these guys met as a couple of goofy 12-year-olds that they'd be watching Band of Brothers together in the hospital 25 years later.
And my brother, "I come bearing kolaches and Under Armour underwear. I'm about to change your life." And now on Chris' patient board his preferred name is listed as Chocolate Thunder and his target discharge date is yesterday.
My love. In the past, in difficult times, our marriage was a battleground. Standing together was work - good work, but work. For reasons I don't fully understand but attribute primarily to age** and the mercy of God, in cancer, so far, we've been solidly and restfully on the same team. Our marriage has been a place of rest and healing.
The Lord is good to all
And his mercies are over all his works.
* Thank you Joshua and Nathaniel for the loan.
** I know that 36 and 37 doesn't get you many old age wisdom points, but it's a heck of a lot different from 23 and 24.
*** The prayer shawl in the bottom picture was knit with love by my Gran.
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