Wednesday, January 20, 2016

I made it out alive.

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Seven years ago, I picked up blogging after a about a six month absence.
Three and a half months of that was spent in a coma sleeping,
and a little more than five
months of that time was spent in a hospital recovering. 
It's still amazing to me that I made it out alive.
Often if I am very still and my mind is clear I think about those long
days in the hospital.  I can even smell the room I lived in.
I think about the pain I felt, the emotional heartache
I endured minute after painful minute.
I can see my bloody bandages, broken body, and hear my wispy voice.
I cried a lot back then.
(Christian's hands in his blue compression garments, and me in brown)

I'm at a part in my life's story where
I can look back at the some of my hard times and
be grateful the progress I've made, and the lessons I am learning.
I certainly have gained a different perspective about hope and endurance,
not to mention beauty and true happiness.
Tonight sitting in the living room reading Valentines Day books to my children
near the relaxing fire Mr Nielson made, I turned the pages with the same brittle
burned hands I never thought would work again.
In that moment, I felt a sense
of gratitude and love for my life, my hands, and my trials.