Journal Entry 5/3 From Kristi
It’s raining today outside.
For a while now, I have been struggling to put together thoughts. Lately, when I sit down to make sense of this journey, I come up empty. A little dry. By faith, I know God is working under the surface, but it feels like a barren winter season, and the rains continue to come. And so do the secret tears.
The Denver landscape has matched our season: mostly brown, muted tones from the dried-up grass and bare trees and empty shrubs.
I miss the green.
I have come back to our room during Zachary‘s therapy class to grab a copy of his driver’s license. I’m in the process of applying for a handicapped parking pass for my son. I lay out the form before me and I’m supposed to select the right box: “are you requesting a temporary pass or permanent pass?” the questionnaire asks me.
That question hurts. I don’t know if my heart is ready to select the box that says “permanent disability”. I can hardly wrap my heart around it.
I look over at the extra wheelchair parked in the corner of the room. Yesterday, it was issued to Zac to try out and so I brought it back to our room. At first, it was fun, racing him back, chair vs chair, mimicking his newly learned wheelchair skills and technique... but then as we both rolled into our room, I pushed over to the corner to park the wheelchair - and then I Stood Up.
Just like that.
My “injury” wasn’t real.
I looked over my shoulder to see if Zac saw me. (Of course, he was just happily checking messages on his phone).
I stood up and walked away from the wheelchair. But Zac can’t do that. He can’t park his chair over in the corner of the room and then say, “ok, that was fun, but now I’m done. I’ll just park it over there and walk away...”
Because of the cold rains, I’m noticing something on the Denver landscape is beginning to change: the lawns are beginning to look a bit more green. Tulips and daisies that have been hiding below the surface this whole time are now just beginning to pop up. The dry, brown tree outside of our window is blooming green sprigs with white buds. Life is slowly breaking through the surface and with it, a dare to believe that change is coming. New growth brings a declaration of hope. We arrived in the dead of winter and now spring is arriving.
Still filling out my Handicap Parking pass, I suddenly see it in bold, red print in the middle of the page: “Your physician will determine if you qualify for temporary or permanent disability parking privileges.”
I just stare at those words for a moment. The most obvious on the page.
I’m not required to answer that question. It’s not my responsibility to figure out if we want a temporary or permanent pass.
My God and Zac’s great Physician is speaking.
I hear you, Lord. I will trust You again. I’ll put his name in the blank and then You can finish the form. You determine this course. Just keep me focused on You. And bring on the Spring.
Big prayer request regarding housing. Our landlords may be putting our home up for sale soon. Pray for God’s provision and direction for us.
Pray for rehab extension. Still waiting to hear from insurance if we return home in 10 days or if they will extend rehab into June. His therapists want him for more time to fit him to leg braces to support him in standing.
Pray for the many side effects of a spinal cord injury Zac deals with besides paralysis. It is tough.
“For behold, the winter is past... The flowers appear on the earth...
The time of singing has come... Arise...”.
Song of Songs 2:11-13
