Crackers and cheese. Various Christmas delicacies.
He can take the plate of food.
I want to treasure this moment.
I want to hold tight to each moment when he can eat and feels strong.
I am left alone in the waiting room. I take out the Word and I read.
We are both hungry and we begin the process of finding a mutual agreeable place.
He, my beloved husband, will eat anywhere. Or not at all.
This has been the basis of serious negative vibes in our marriage over the years.
Food can bring about alter personalities.
Meals are to be eaten; 3 of them; Everyday.
Even on vacation.
Even more so on vacation, because I do not have to prepare. . .
As we are seeking this perfect dining experience.
I notice the Parkway Diner sign. It appears to have lights on. My hopes are raised.
I swear there is a neon open sign in the window.
My heart skips a beat as the realization that this place is open and I am about to enter.
It meets every expectation I have.
There are lights around the windows.
Christmas music is playing and the woman behind the counter is perky
and brings me hot coffee. And repeats this task without me ever asking.
(Do you think they know how much I love coffee?)
And I pinch myself just to make sure I haven’t stepped into a time warp.
I think I am in love.
And I calculate how many days until I can come again.
We need to get a mattress for Eleanor.
Repeatedly she has complained about her mattress being uncomfortable.
We always agree with her.
It is over 40 years old.
It’s part of the territory.
It’s not until we recline with her on the mentioned mattress that we discover there are springs poking through the mattress. We flip the mattress, because that is what every cheap family does; only to discover. . .somewhere along the line we had already
flipped this mattress because there were springs sticking out of that side as well.
Being the frugal mom I am I had already purchased a deal through one of the internet daily coupons.
(Sorry all guest room users, no new mattress there. You’ll still have to roll to the middle)
It is late when we finally turn toward home.
We are both tired.
We are ready to be home.
It’s then I see the boxes of food.
Food left for us.
In the time it took for us to bring the food in to the house.
Another pile of food shows up at the door.
We never saw them.
We eat, again,
(I really need to get my friend Carole Ann to start walking with me)
The kids are all out. So it is just my farmer and I.
We find it interesting how in the face of all the unknown;
doctors, radiation and chemo- that these times are so much fun for us.
We travel far south on a vacation to the warmth or get away for the evening and it’s a disaster.
But put us at the hospital and we’re like two kids, just starting to date.
It was this way with Elijah.
He resisted his way into this world with all he had.
We spent days and nights at the hospital trying to force his entry.
To no avail.
He was brought in against his will.
Funny how he was taken so quickly.
Yet these time together, my farmer and I are gifts and treasures.
We remember them fondly.
As Cedric used to say. . .It’s all how you look at it.
And do you see it?
Can you feel the Power moving slowly?
It is the presence of the Holy Spirit ministering to our hurting hearts.
Can you see it moving?
I don’t know why we are on this journey.
I still don’t like it.
And I miss my red headed boy with every fiber of my being. I yearn for him. My soul aches.
Yet, through the grief, there is God’s presence.
He is there. He hasn’t left.
He will be there.