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An every-so-often installment of ongoing sparkling thoughts.
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3/11/07 TwinkleGram from Charlene The Road to Recovery is Paved with... An empty chair. An empty cast. A worn bar of soap. These are signs of the road to recovery and new life--at least in our household. The empty chair bears witness to my getting out and about again, doing lunch, running (okay, gross exaggeration) errands, washing clothes. Everyday things that we take for granted--until we can't do them. The empty cast means I'm no longer on crutches. WAHOO! However, due to the nature of my complex spiral break and my age (although the doctor didn't say that out loud, he wore it like a flashing neon sign right between his eyes), healing is slow to come, so I'm still wearing a brace. But healing is happening. I'm more aware of my progress when I think back to where I was last week, last month, the month before . . . the 7th of January when I was sprawled on my basement floor. Yes, it's the Long View that lends the best perspective. Big George is practically PRANCING already! (Fifteen-second lag time here while I laugh out loud picturing THAT!) Only three weeks with the new knee and he's already talking about getting the other one done. The one he's been gimping on for several years, before the "good" knee went bad. It's wonderful to see the absence of pain on his face, the crutches left behind for a cane, the cane left behind when he's taking short walks. And we've experienced a MIRACLE here on Second Street: we did not whap each other with our crutches, not once! (Don't ask me if we thought about it.) When one is used to gadding about and one is suddenly confined with one's spouse, in the same house, on the same floor, for WEEKS on end, one gets a little, how shall I put this ... TESTY AND INSANE! But now we can both drive, escape, fly the entire coop for a spell, if need be. Can I hear a big AMEN! "But what about that square bar of soap, Charlene? What's up with that? Now that you're healing, do you mean to tell us you've not only left crutches and casts behind, but bathing?!" MAY IT NEVER BE! That worn bar of soap, Dear TwinkleGrammers, is actually the BIGGEST evidence of the heart of Today's Message. Prepare ye-selves for more information than you might want to know. But honestly, I have complete faith in your ability to handle it. ;>) Due to my cast, the leg it was on, access to our tub and the location of the nozzles, for weeks I was unable to shower. (Have you stabilized yet?) I couldn't even get up the stairs to the main bathroom without intense pain. Now, you also have to know (and if you've been with me awhile, you already do know) that I am one of those people who constantly slathers herself with lotions and lip gloss. Flaky skin makes me crazy. I detest dryness. And let me say right here that sponge bathing with soap does not lend itself well to a thorough rinsing. But alas, it was either sponge bath or no bathe. Yes, I know packages of "personal bath clothes" for such circumstances are available in stores, but I didn't have any. I had a sink, a washcloth . . . and, as it turns out, a Divine surprise waiting for me. For more than a decade (maybe two decades?) I've owned this beautiful 4" x 4" bar of soap with raised morning glories on the top. I don't remember if someone gave it to me or if I bought it. Like beautiful guest towels, it's one of those items you bring out when company comes, but you hope they don't really use it. So before guests arrive, I "display" it on the left of the sink and leave the hand-pump soap on the right. After company leaves, I stow the beautiful bar of soap back under the sink and heave a sigh of relief that once again, my "guest soap" has gone unscathed. Until . . . . A couple days after The Fall, I sat on the toilet (lid down) next to the sink in our teensy guest bathroom (just getting there from my lounge chair exhausted me) and contemplated how I could balance myself on one leg and a pair of crutches while also using my hands to sponge bathe! I felt so desperate, so exhausted, defeated, pained, frustrated and hopeless that I began to cry. Bawl, in fact. I felt so sorry for myself while sobbing and leaning over to prowl through the under-sink cabinet for a clean hand towel that I decided I would use the beautiful blue soap. "What are you saving it for, Charlene?!" I said through my snot. And so I did. OH! The lather was wonderful. It rinsed off and left no residue. The beautiful little soap became a daily bright spot in the midst of my grayness. Even more marvelous, after about a week I realized I hadn't been craving hand cream. The soap not only cleansed, but it quenched my dryness. All along this great gift had been waiting for. . . ME, to simply accept it as my own. Just like God, offering a gentle hand, waiting for you to decide you're worthy enough--or desperate enough--to receive God's bright, cleansing, drenching grace on your road to recovery from whatever. Sawed-off cast, broken shackle. Empty Chair, empty tomb. Light in the darkness, risen for you. Happy Easter ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ To read Charlene's new travel blog, click HERE Subscribe to the TwinkleGram ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Charlene Ann Baumbich Web site: http://www.welcometopartonville.com TwinkleGram Archives 6/2/04 | 8/20/04 | 10/08/04 | 10/25/04 | 12/14/04 | 1/19/05 | 3/4/05 | 4/21/05 | 6/13/05 Don't forget to check in every once in a while to see what's on Charlene's mind. From the profound to the pathetic, she's happy to have her own non-edited corner in which to ramble on about whatever she'd like whenever the mood strikes her - which might be sooner or later! Or, subscribe to the TwinkleGram and have it delivered fresh to your email - just click the "Subscribe to the TwinkleGram" link at the top of this page. Notice: Materials on this page are copyright Charlene Baumbich 2003-2007 |
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