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I Am One of the Lucky Ones

The winter has been mild, and the daffodils are already blooming. Too early, in my opinion. In a week or two, the trees will leaf out. I am emotionally not ready. I like the warmth and bird twitter, but I dread the world filling up with gluttony of green. Every tree will be filled with it. I want more empty and barren. Yes, empty and barren, only found in the late winter. I have not had my fill of boney winter trees. No depression here. I just love the empty, bare, skeletal trees. Very few will understand my need for such barrenness. Over the last several weeks, I’ve gone to four different doctors, each giving me his best diagnosis and referral. Finally, one doctor said, “You are one of the

Seeing from the Low Position

I’m exercising on the floor in front of a window. I do “the bridge,” an exercise to strengthen my back. When finished, I lie there watching white clouds move across the blue sky, and I remember.... I remember being little and seeing the world from this low position. Inside my house, everything was black or brown: a basket of sewing, stove, chair legs, trunk, lamp pole, table legs. Outside, I would lie on green grass and watch clouds float above me. My sister and I would find shapes of something recognizable like a monkey or a fish. It was all silly and giddy. Mother and Daddy were big like mountains. Full of authority and as practical as doorknobs. I now see that I had the best point of view

The Velveteen Husband

He left the two dogs and me behind to attend an aunt’s funeral service in our hometown, five hours away. My husband will pay special attention to family and bless those brought into close connection with him. And he will inhale the world of South Arkansas once again, a world that is part of his life story. I’m not going to the funeral, because I do not feel well. That will become part of my life story. As we live and breathe, there are going to be losses. Losses and stressors. Those stressors can steal my thoughts and emotions. They can even affect my physical well-being. What stressors cannot affect is my own story. Nothing can rob me of my story. Not even death. I let my hand rest on the h

Of Course He'd Show Me

On the way to town, I often talk to God while driving. Yesterday I asked God to open my eyes and my heart and show me a miracle. I am surrounded by miracles every day, but I know I probably miss 90% of them. Thinking along that line, I asked the Lord to show me one. I waved to my friend at the café in the library where we planned to have lunch together, but first, I returned my library books. When I reentered the café, not twenty feet away, stood a man I admired, but he was not in a black wheelchair. My mouth dropped open. Both of his legs had been amputated, but there he was, standing tall. I made a bee-line for him. All I could say was, “Jerry, I am Pat Durmon. You are not in your wheelcha

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