Heart Journey: Things I've Noticed

Being home during the day means you notice a lot more things than normal—or maybe it's better to say you notice different things. On days when I'm here all by myself, I find myself from time to time watching out through the back sliding door, across the deck, to the many goings-on in our backyard. I never knew it was so busy out there! This time of year, the squirrels are stockpiling for the winter, and we apparently have quite a few that live in the neighborhood, perhaps in the trees behind our house. My dog, Hershey, likes to watch them as well. If they stay too long in the yard, she demands to be let out, and she runs with everything in her to catch them. She never does catch up to one, but she seems to always think this time will be THE time.

I watched the other day as birds filled the tree whose limbs are in front of our bedroom window. This tree grows some sort of small, round fruit (a cherry of sorts?) during the fall and as the leaves drop off, the berries become more prominent. The birds, I have discovered, love these berries. I watched a whole flock of birds dining to their hearts' content, stuffing themselves with this fruit for, I presume, the long journey south. I told Cathy that some of them seemed to eat so much they looked like they might explode...or drag their bellies on the ground as they attempted to fly south.

I've noticed how tired I can get just reading and watching these things in nature. I'm trying to be faithful in the walking I'm supposed to do (though if it would quit raining for more than a day, that would be helpful), and, of course, I also have many different doctors' appointments to attend to. But I am also finding having a chance to observe the beautiful world around me is good for my soul and good for healing the spirit.

As for the body, a brief medical update: my blood levels (thickness/thinness of the blood) continue to be "off," so we (meaning mainly the doctors) are still trying to get the amount of medication correct. Doing that will then prevent blood clots from forming or from me unintentionally bleeding internally without knowing it. Both of those things are bad, so it's a balancing act. I have also continued to be anemic, and am receiving (at this point) weekly iron infusions. Cathy has taken to calling me "Iron Man" when I have those done.

I am thankful for the chances when I can get out and about, but I find that I am still easily worn out by such activity. I do look forward to going to the mailbox each day, because usually I find a card or two from a friend or church member, and those brighten up the day. I have a whole basket full of them by the couch. I will continue to read and re-read them in the days and weeks to come, for each one reminds me of how much I am cared for. They remind me what is most important, and how our relationships are ultimately what we ought to invest in the most.

As many of us were reminded vividly yesterday when a church member was in a horrific accident, none of us are promised tomorrow, let alone the next moment. The things we think are so important often are not. Perspective is a good thing. My recovery is moving along—not as quickly as I might like, but moving along nonetheless. As Cathy reminds me, "You're still here!" My prayer is that these scars will always remind me, among other things, to notice the little things—like squirrels, birds and mailboxes full of warm greetings—that are always around me. And to never forget what is ultimately important.