Sunday Morning

Saturday was hustle and bustle, my daughter home from college for a short weekend, my sister driving down from Oshkosh to visit, my brother-in-law over and doing yard work for me, and my oldest son having flown in from the twin cities. It was a beautiful and warm spring day, the sun shining and the sky blue and cloudless.  In the late afternoon, my wife prepared a big dinner, and my mother-in-law joined us.  And there was laughter and smiles, the whole day was just about perfect, and it wound down into a quiet and comfortable night.

Sunday morning arrived with more sunshine pouring through bedroom window shades.  We woke up and my wife helped bathe me, patting down my sutures, and helping me get dressed.  We were up and about while my son and daughter slept in, and as I ate oatmeal for breakfast, I looked out to the living room to where my wife sat, in her reading chair, the morning sun bright behind her. She reflected and glowed, and it struck me how perfect everything –the oatmeal, the sun, my sleeping son and daughter, and my wife – is, and how grateful I am for this chance to still be among them.

Each day I’m getting stronger. The scars are healing and the pain is lessening. I’m being very careful not to overdo things, not to do anything that would jeopardize a full recovery. I am doing my breathing exercises and taking my medications and following all of the instructions I’ve been given.

I have to be very careful because there are such heavy demands on my heart, there is so much for it to love, so much perfection and beauty to appreciate, that not one beat can be wasted.

3 thoughts on “Sunday Morning

  1. To the crown jewel among my relatives, I’m so grateful that you survived that operation. The world to me would be quite empty without you!! Phyllis

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