One Thousand Gifts . . .

You've kept track of my every toss and turn

through the sleepless nights,

Each tear entered in your ledger,

each ache written in your book.

Psalm 56:8

I leave the house nervous.  Remembering dreams that have haunted for almost twenty years.

It's raining, he doesn't drop me off at the door.  We I fight.  He's elsewhere in mind.

The doctor uses initials.  I drop a tear.  Daughter, the one who never quits smiling, the one who never leaves me without kiss, she says Don't cry, Mama.

I deny the tear, laugh and look at him, he doesn't smile, doesn't wink.  Jaw is clenching.

They draw seven vials of blood from daughter and x-ray that body I used to cradle to chest and sing lullaby.

I wait alone while she chooses him to go back with and remember a day in May of 2000.  A day my world spun faster - or was it slower?  Just spinning out of contol. 

I try not to cry as I remember.  I pinch the bridge of my nose and look at all those around me.  One woman asks someone at a desk if it was morning or afternoon.  I pinch harder.  Blink close.  Pinch harder.  Close tighter.

Pile your troubles on God's shoulders

he'll carry your load, he'll help you out.

He'll never let good people

topple into ruin.

Psalm 55:22

I want to call Mama but there's no service.  I pray again.  And again and again.  Ask not to have to relive the terror of 2000.  Say Your will.  Whisper it out loud as I fight it quietly.

My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life.  Psalm 119:50

Daughter who smiles all day doesn't ask about the initials.  Too young to be scared?  Too scared to ask?

Months ago I was afraid of something that tonight I'd take gift wrapped, presented and thankful for.

And dreams are just dreams and the world is held in the palm of scarred hand.  For years we have lived with the results of that day in May 2000.  Insulin and needles and scares and prayers.  Loved even more that child forced to grow up too fast.  And our lives held in the palm of scarred hand.

And today I sit somewhere different, but the fears and smells are much the same.

"I'm telling you these things while I'm still living with you. The Friend, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send at my request, will make everything plain to you. He will remind you of all the things I have told you. I'm leaving you well and whole. That's my parting gift to you. Peace. I don't leave you the way you're used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft. So don't be upset. Don't be distraught.  John 14:26-27

Today's my gratitude list and it's not ready.  List on counter and by bed.  Thanks for being able to substitute cocoa and sugar for chocolate chips, thanks for gifts of coupons, the sound of air hockey, and so on.

But gratitude today was remembered in memories of years past when I didn't know to be grateful for fear and questions.  For they mean life.  Life held in the palm of scarred hand.

Gratitude today is knowing results of tomorrow are held in the palm of that same unmoveable scarred hand.