It’s a Different Dance Now but the Same Fulcrum of Trust
These days I hear my dad’s whiffling snores from his open bedroom door as they carry upstairs to my loft office. He’s sleeping more than he’s awake most days. His stroke happened a year ago the day after Christmas. He was living nestled in the valley community of Eagle Nest among the Sangre de Cristo mountains of New Mexico on a system of highways known as The Enchanted Circle. And it truly is.
If you follow 38 North you will land in Red River, a quaint mountain community where the Red River winds its way through downtown, only feet wide in some places. Four generations of our family have vacationed, fly-fished, explored this area from Middle Fork to Goose Lake. It’s a place I would have given anything to live year-round growing up. And my dad had been for several years.
Since the stroke, he’s relocated to the lower elevation of our home state and I am his caretaker. Meds to be given five times throughout the day, blood sugars noted, vitals recorded. After this, we often have clean up from the night before which includes change of clothes, sheets, transfers from the bed to the wheelchair to the bathroom.
On the wall hangs a painting of an over-sized chipmunk, just like the ones I used to feed out of my hand on our mountain trips. I can almost hear the babbling river with its persistent flow and imagine the scent of pines in the crisp fresh air.
I turn to a full basket of bedding, it’s urine-soaked most days from spills and misses into the ever present plastic urinals. Transferring by himself is fraught with peril and something he only tries occasionally so night time trips to the bathroom are nonexistent. The stroke has left him unsteady, not because of his strength but because of where it affected his brain. Vision in one eye limited due to permanent nerve damage. Still, we know he’s fortunate, he can swallow, has regained the use of his right hand, and while his short term memory falters, his long term is pretty much the same. And generally he doesn’t experience physical pain. Cold, now that’s another matter.
A Different Sort of Dance
And I remember as a little girl, my dad coming home from work. He’d slip his shoes off by the front door, his six foot four frame supported by large feet which moved fluidly on the tennis court and off. The smell of leather laced each step as I attempted to walk, shoes too heavy for my small frame. I eventually realized the futility and stepped out. Some evenings he would take me by the hand and let me stand on top of his socked feet. We’d dance, my little self delighted with the ease of movement, the smile on his face matching the joy in my heart.
These days we have a different sort of dance as we transfer from bed to chair. Toe to toe, with my arms under his, I ask him to shift his weight forward. Living counterbalances with a fulcrum of trust between us. It’s just enough for him to swivel his rear over to the chair. Sometimes, I have to remind him to trust me, I won’t let him fall.
And I remember, he never let me fall when he threw me into the air or swung me around by my arms. This trust is a gift between us.
So for now, he is my neighbor to love and care for, the one I have the honor of serving. Not a have-to service, but a get-to honor.
Meet Sarah L. Frantz
Sarah Frantz is the debut author of The Quickening, Overcomers Book 1. Writing in the hills of Green Country, Oklahoma she shares biblical truths in allegorical form. If you can imagine Peretti and L’Engle having a child who consumes Lewis you might be close to the mark for Sarah’s inspiration and muse.
A wife of 30 plus years, mother to five, grandmother of eight. As a homeschooling mama she taught chemistry in co-op settings which nurtured her ongoing love of science and young people. This combination of factors has woven together into a story she hopes will bless and encourage young adults’ views of God.
Where to find her . . .
Begin Within is a series to inspire a year-round lifestyle of gratitude that will impact not only your own life, but the lives of your neighbors as well. Gratitude is a theme we talk about often around here because it ties so closely into other missional living rhythms. Practicing gratitude reminds to keep our hearts soft and expectant and our eyes open. Therefore, the more we embrace gratitude, the easier it becomes to truly see our neighbors and where we can join what God is already doing in our neighborhoods.
If you would like to contribute to Begin Within, you can find the submission guidelines here.
10 Things You Might Be Doing That Keep Your Friendships Shallow
(+ 1 Simple Habit to Shift Your Direction)
If you long for deep, meaningful relationships, this is for you!
Creating Ripples
If you would like to cultivate rhythms in addition to gratitude that will empower you live on mission in your neighborhood, check out Cultivating a Missional Life: A 30-Day Devotional to Gently Help You Open Your Heart, Home, and Life to Your Neighbors. This small book will help you make a big impact in your neighborhood as you learn to let missional living flow from the inside out. Get the 30-day missional living challenge free when you purchase the book.
