It is the calm after the storm here in St. Louis this morning. There is a bright ball of glow to the east of my home. Glancing through my back window, a cloudless ocean sky, casting slight shadows of tree limbs across the snowy hill behind my brick bungalow. I feel snug, cuddled in my bathrobe of valentine-colored hearts. From inside, the outside looks warm and toasty. A dichotomy between 1 degree and heaven-sent rays of shining sun. The sky begins to cast light upon snow-covered sprouts of spring grasses and freezing bushes nearby.
Sipping coffee here at my desk there is a “ping” that rings from my phone. An important message to me? Yes, my youngest son has sent me a text. Three words, “At work safely!” I smile to think of him thinking of me. It hasn’t always been this way. We’ve had our ‘ups and downs.’ He’s had his struggles in a world not always fair to him. He fought childhood wars, trying to save himself and others from what might have been.
Finally, after years of living with Chronic Conditions, the picture behind the camera developed for me. It was hard for me to understand, harder still for my youngest son to get through it all. He was an innocent, napping toddler of three when I disappeared with his little-older brother off to a hospital for days without word or explanation. Upon returning, normal life had disappeared. What was before was never more.
In my heart, my fledgling son ‘gets it’ now. All his time of life’s inner turmoil has led him to where he needs to be. It’s what I’m praying for…..part of God’s plan, you see. The job he started in this new year is going well for him. There is a positive change in the way he looks, how he carries himself, together with the way he speaks. He grins more often than before and has light in his lovely eyes. Yes, I see. They, come alive! My son has met a girl. There seems to be a young woman in his life. He’s brought her to our home, something he hasn’t often done before. I like her and I’m hoping she likes me.
I’ve seen a dichotomy while living with Chronic Conditions. At least, between my own two sons. One has fiercely struggled on a physical level, yet seems to have been happy nearly every day, while the other has scratched and clawed while battling brawls seemingly impossible to win. And yet, now, I dare say he’s on his way.
As always, it is God who has a plan for my boys. He has blessed my oldest with life, and love, and happiness. My youngest has had to work a bit harder to discover the latter two. Perhaps, finally, it is his time now.
Three words I’ve read on a text fill my heart with hope.
“At work safely!”
*re-published from 3/3/14.
What a difference two years can make!