From our walk this morning

1. Truth: Some days I’m worried, and it makes it hard to concentrate. Sam is getting an ultrasound today to see if we can get a clearer picture (literally) of what’s going on with him. He’ll have to be sedated and if they find what they expect, he’ll be getting a platelet injection. The sedation is what worries me, always does. No matter how careful everyone is, there’s risk involved, and it makes it hard to focus on anything else while I wait.

2. Truth: While big things matter, sometimes it’s the little things. I’m thinking in terms of the negatives here, how a collection of small things adds up to something. Like maybe it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal that we shifted from paper forms to an online timeclock for student workers, or because of ongoing construction the closest I can park to my office is half a mile away, or they added chicken to the ingredients of something labeled “Peanut Butter flavor,” or it was windy all night and this morning and will be the rest of the day and tomorrow. Any of those by itself is so small, almost irrelevant, but somehow together they add up to some sort of omen, message, sign.

3. Truth: I love surprising people more than almost anything. Yesterday my nieces were posting on Facebook about Ocean Spray Cran-Pineapple juice, how it sounded good but you could only get it on Amazon. I ordered two jugs and sent it to them. No worries that I’m spoiling the surprise by writing about it here. They don’t read my blog. Another time, a friend was telling me about this Mary Poppins spoon that she’d saved box tops from cereal boxes and sent away for when she was a kid. She ate her cereal with it every morning, but then lost it somehow. I got on Ebay and found one, ordered it and put it in her mailbox at work, anonymously. The surprise didn’t last because when she found it, I was the first person she told, and the joy on my face gave me away. I always eventually confess, just so the surprise doesn’t seem creepy.

One wish: May our worry be eased and our aching hearts soothed by the sweet surprise of love and friendship.

1. Truth: Healing always takes longer than I think it will. This is linked to the habitual way I rush in and try to fix it when anything is wrong. I try to hurry past the discomfort, and I get anxious when I can’t make things right. Like with Sam, I want him to be better as soon as possible, because it’s so hard for me to see him in pain and to deny him some of his favorite things, but his particular injury can take anywhere from two to six months to resolve. And if for some reason he tweaks his muscle again before he’s completely healed, we will have to start all over.

2. Truth: One essential ingredient for healing is rest. In this case, there is nothing to do. It’s all about not doing, being still. I don’t allow enough of it for myself, and that’s part of why I struggle so much — physically, emotionally, and mentally. Even when I’m exhausted, I push myself to keep going, sometimes until the only option is collapse.

3. Truth: We are all living under the shadow of death. When we were sitting on the floor with Sam last night, giving him his cold lazer treatment, Eric remarked that it reminded him of when we had Obi and Dexter put to sleep. We were in similar positions, in almost the same spot where it happened, and I totally understood what he meant. This came right after I was telling Sam we needed to get him better so he could live to be an old dog, and that eight wasn’t old. The whole thing made me think about how death is always right there, for all of us. It doesn’t care what we want, doesn’t concern itself with our schedule or plans.

One wish: May we be patient and gentle and spacious with our healing, allowing the time and effort (or non effort) it takes. And when the time comes, may we have an easy death.