The Plank-Eyed Girl: The Tiny, Secret Confessions of a Chair-Bound Squi...

The Plank-Eyed Girl: The Tiny, Secret Confessions of a Chair-Bound Squi...:   1:17 a.m. Awakening from my drug-induced slumber, I can feel my dull, numbed mind slowly stir.  Like a butterfly awakening from...

The Tiny, Secret Confessions of a Chair-Bound Squirrel

 1:17 a.m. Awakening from my drug-induced slumber, I can feel my dull, numbed mind slowly stir.  Like a butterfly awakening from the completed metamorphosis process, I must make peace with my chair-bound place of residence and the energy it will consume to gain my ability to walk, skitter, twirl, and jump with two feet again.  For this squirrel on steroids, this is going to be challenging! 

I am alone while the Mr. sleeps peacefully in the comfort of our previously shared nest.  I continue to lie in this mossy green overstuffed, reclining chair, with my mind now fully awake.  Only the stained, 50 year old popcorn ceiling in my line of sight.  Letting my eyes slid shut and wishing for a different view, reality quickly sets in.  I go down a mental list of things that I will not be able to do for some time:  #1.  Walk.  #2.  Drive. #3.  Easily take myself to the bathroom.  #4.   Shower at will.  #6.  Wear whatever I feel like.  #7. Fix whatever I want to eat.  #8.  Go to work.  #9.  Sit at the computer to write.  #10.  ......   Sleep slowly draws itself over me again like a soft fleece blanket and I fade into unawareness.

3:12 a.m.  Alertness yanks me from my dozing.  Unfamiliar sounds pepper my consciousness and leave me wondering if they are a nightly occurrences.  Sleep has said good-bye and I am alone with my thoughts, wanderings, and prayers.

6:45 a.m. Sleep is still not returning.  Seconds surrender to minutes as I summons every ounce of this 53 year-old abdominal strength and upper body muscle in order to change positions in "the chair". Adjusting to my new upright position, my view from "the chair" has become more interesting and oddly more emotionally comfortable.  

Daylight peeks its rays through the darkness and I am able to see the five foot metal rooster in my garden.  (Yes, I said...five foot, metal rooster.)  Confession#1 - This really is my ONLY piece of yard art.  My mind is uncontrollably flooded with memories from the events that surrounded it's purchase.  It is a memento from my 50th birthday (remind me to tell you about that amazing day sometime).  It was also an incredibly special gift from my Mr.  Willing my eyes to move on, they descend

onto a table under the window that holds ten white frames of those I love at events that hold significance in my heart. Shifting to the left, I am take in a 2 ft by 2 ft. large red, sticker-decorated 
"Get Well" card with precious beginners handwriting, created by a child that holds my heart-strings.  Gratefulness is rising like a flood from a cistern deep inside my heart.  Tears express themselves freely and flow down my cheeks.  I swipe at these tears with the soft, back side of my

hand.  Confession #2:  I am surprisingly sentimental.  This is a major surprise to me.  It alters my limited and probably somewhat tainted view of what "sentimental" is and feels like.  Honestly,  this feels like someone should shoot off a confetti cannon for me.  This ah-ha feels celebratory!

Pushing the recliner back with my one good foot, my eyelids slid shut again.  My mind takes a walking tour through this place I call "home".  From my memory, I gaze at the extensive myriad of photos; postcards in the basket from our adventures; variegated beach glass from the assorted beaches of this planet; and my collection of heart shaped choral.  Each of these items hold precious memories.  Each of these items could be considered a memento.  Each of these items encourage me to remember.  Each of these items invite those visiting to ask questions.  

7:17 a.m.  He whispers to my soul, those mementos are precious to you.  They tell the journey of your life, but where are the mementos from your journey with me?  Bolting upright, I am fully awake and completely aware that I maybe, just maybe, I have missed something very important.  Confession #3:  I am often blind to my lack of understanding.  So, turning to the power of Google, I search. Finding something I think might be useful, I search my well-stocked side table for the familiar brown leather book.  Falling open, it's thin pages turn easily to 1 Samuel 7:3-12.  

That is when His whisper makes total sense.  He is asking me to create some "Ebenezer" type momentos of our journey together to place around our home.  Maybe a photo.  Maybe a framed letter.  Maybe a tattoo.  Maybe a piece of jewerly.  Maybe a painting or piece of artwork.  Maybe you have already done this.  If so, would you please post a photo and tell the brief story behind it?  We all need visual "Faith Markers," that remind us of what God has done for us; through us; and in us.  

Until We Chat Again,

The Plank-Eyed Girl