After the Fourth

Settled in a Starbucks across town, I’m waiting for my third doc appointment this week. My cough and cold never abated, even after antibiotics. So I see the doc again in a few hours.

Downing coffee dressed as a caramel macchiato helps pass the time. And gift cards allow for the midafternoon indulgence. So now I sip, type, wait, and remember.

Because I don’t do well when slowed to a crawl.

While others may think of me and recall recent feats (like our trip to New York City or successful book signings), when I feel isolated, I also feel strangely separated from all I've accomplished.

In a way, it’s my own fault. I have a need for movement, an inner urging to keep going. Perhaps even a slight fear of not being able to one day, which transforms a short time-out into a week of agony.

To my credit, I’ve been sitting a lot more than normal in recent months and am facing another round of surgery in the coming weeks. So I’ve been fighting feelings of isolation for a while now.

They come and go in waves. But as the fourth approached after a sick week and I realized Don had to work, they intensified again...

Until I read Ute’s email.

My friend, Ute, chose to spend the summer with her family in Zimbabwe. Isolated from American norms, they've ministered to individuals and succeeded in installing a new playground for a small community.

While she's confident God sent them overseas for the summer, it’s not been an easy stay. The poverty, superstition, and corruption create a difficult living environment, physically, mentally, and spiritually.

She described her emotion well in an email I read Sunday morning. So I empathized with her readiness to be home.

Missing the Fourth of July added to her angst, since having lived all over the world, Ute’s proud to call America her home. Celebrating our freedoms makes sense to her because she doesn’t take them for granted.

Struck by her plight—her loneliness, isolation, and fatigue—I fought back against my own. I sent a text to my busy family, suggesting we try to gather on the Fourth.

With a family reunion only days away, we almost let the Fourth slip by. But 19 texts later a plan formed that included dinner at my house and fireworks after—a day early, on the Third, only a few hours later.

So I got busy.

Advil helped as I straightened an upstairs bedroom so my folks could spend the night. And soon Don and I strolled through a grocery store, fixed a pot of chili, and cut up strawberries for homemade strawberry shortcake.

Everyone arrived, ate, and hung out until dusk, when we drove to a park where fireworks barely made it over the tree line. It wasn’t the best view. But a gentle breeze and sparse crowd made for a delightful outdoor visit.

We had plenty of food to eat.

Nice cars to drive.

Air conditioning when we slept.

Tap water to drink.

Doctors to fix my feet.

Inhalers to help me breathe.

Family to love and annoy.

And time to just sit and be.

I slept for almost three hours after my parents left. Ate a little. And then slept more.

The house was quiet and that creepy sense of isolation crept toward my soul again. But the memories of togetherness surfaced and offered ammunition against the silent void.

On the other side of the world, a strike began in Zimbabwe today. Teachers, doctors, and nurses haven’t been paid in over a month. Minibus drivers are “protesting roadblocks by police demanding bribes.” (http://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-36717354)

Drought accompanied by a cash shortage has left the government on the verge of a shutdown, and my friend is there in the midst.

Perspective.

It sure makes it easier for me to keep going on the day after the Fourth.

And after listening to my lungs, my doc was fairly certain she heard evidence of pneumonia this afternoon. An x-ray didn't confirm her suspicions, but new antibiotics should take care of whatever's going on.

So no wonder I've been struggling. Even Eggs needed more than a day to work up the courage to leave our bedroom after Lily came to visit and firecrackers filled the weekend nights.

She's turning back into the kitty we know and love, and slowly, very slowly, I'm feeling a little more like myself too.





photo credit: Coffee via photopin (license)
photo credit: The Ice Fisherman via photopin (license)
photo credit: Happy Independence Day via photopin (license)