When the Frogs Sang in December

Drawn to the warmth outside, I sat on my screened in porch as I savored morning coffee last week. An unseasonal frog and cricket serenade punctuated what I already knew. This December just wasn't like the others.

The south was permeated by soggy, balmy air, as if we were teleported to the Caribbean for the holiday season. My mom and I actually convinced my dad to turn the AC on as the oven heated Christmas dinner. It was just too hot. And sleeveless clothes, I did not pack.

But beyond the rise in temperature, I missed my boys. With homes of their own and full busy lives, neither had reason to spend weeks in my home over the break. While we certainly shared sweet moments together, the silence in my home was louder than normal.

And I didn't like it.

On top of it all, only hours after I submitted my book for publishing on the morning of December 21st, I walked into Target with my walker and left soon after, wiping tears of pain. For the next two weeks, both ankles turned in, pigeon-toed, and left me fighting to adjust to what seems to have become a "new normal".

I swallowed a prescription anti-inflammatory a few days ago and my legs now move forward with smoother strides. The ankles still turn in some, but I'm more accustomed to it. Throw in the winter chill that has me bundled in corduroys and a turtle neck, and this second day of January shows promise.

Cause I've got plans. I have things to do. Forget double vision and ankles that turn, I want to listen to all nine Beethoven symphonies this year. I want to sing in coffee shops and old folks home more than I've dared to in the past. I want to sell some of my former spouses artwork and simply live a little more above the fray.

Don and I spent New Year's Eve with my friends, Bonnie and Lu. While all of our days are numbered, Bonnie is well aware of the countdown on her life as ALS slows her ability to breathe. As we ate Mexican food, she explained that hospice nurses have been frank about what to expect as the end draws near.

Yet even while detailing the hard truth, she bemoaned, "I still have so much to do."

Bonnie hasn't been able to feed herself in five years and hasn't been able to stand in over a year and half. But deep inside she burns with the notion that she still has a lot of living yet to do.

What about you?

It's easy to curl up and hide.

But there's always someone in need. Someone who needs prayer. Someone who longs for a touch to remind them they're not alone as they fight to live too.

Yes, the frogs sang in December this year and everything seemed to stand on its head. But maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it's time I press in and charge ahead.

So in honor of the man who slowly went deaf, yet continued to compose masterpieces, I'm going to stop for a few minutes. Listen. And let his music take me to a different time and place. From there, maybe I'll find a little more of what I need for today.

Creativity. Excitement. Determination. And a touch of the divine.

Join me!

photo credit: Froggy in the Coffee via photopin (license)
photo credit: Si las palabras fueran agua.../ 水の言葉 via photopin (license)
photo credit: Pigeon portrait via photopin (license)
photo credit: Cherry via photopin (license)