I was working at my desk later than usual the other night.  Books, yellow papers and blue pens were strewn everywhere.  The temperature had dropped to nearly 4 degrees.  Skies from windows near me were vast and dark, black as charcoal.   No glowing moon or twinkling stars could be seen.  God kept them hidden behind warm blankets of the sleeping sun.

Suddenly my cell phone rang.  It read, “Dad,” on the small colored screen.

“Hi, Kim how’s your voice today?” he asked in measured tones.

“Not, bad, I’m doing everything I can.”  He was covering something, I thought to myself.  A tone of careful concern could be heard coming from that speech of his.

My father is 81 years old.  I’ve known him long enough to recognize little nuances in his voice, the measured pauses here and there.  I sensed something was about to spring forth.  My chest tightened a bit at the thought of this.  Was I about to get some bad news?  It was the kind of call I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear.

“I went to the doctor today,” he said, carefully.  “My blood sugar is a little too high.”

We went on to speak for several more minutes, playing a “game” of sorts.  I found out exactly what his doctor told him.   In return, he found out exactly what his doctor meant.  I assured my father that his “number” was not that high.    Still, it was an alarm to me.  Knowing diabetes as well as I do, his number is on the borderline.  Life changes need to be made.  He is ready, prepared to agree even before calling me.

My father is at that point in life where doctors are a weekly event.  He’s trying his best to keep his body, mind and spirit up to par.  Like anyone, he wants to live out his years the best that they can be.  He needs a little “maintenance!” He’s determined to do whatever it takes.  A change in diet here, a little more exercise there.   A small price to pay for a longer, healthier life.  Happier too, in every way!

My father doesn’t take his blessings lightly.  He will do whatever it takes.  I dare to say this morning, he’s walking in the Arizona desert.  Up the mountains, passing old saguaro cactuses where flowers on top may be blooming.  If not now than very soon.  I bet he’s saying a prayer, too, thanking God for yet another beautiful day.

6 thoughts on “Maintenence

  1. Till there’s breath, a human can do anything. Your father’s just doing that. He is a messenger. Giving the message “Keep moving forward”. Beautiful words!


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