As we pulled onto our street, I was met by an elderly man driving his electric wheelchair in the middle of the road. After my initial annoyance of "Why can't he drive on the sidewalk" wore off, I decided to check on him once we pulled into the driveway.
I got out of my car and was greeted by the sweetest man. I asked him if he needed any help (water, a snack, me to call someone, etc). He told me no, that he lives with his son on the next street over and was moseying through the neighborhood, thinking about his wife. She'd passed away a few months ago and he has been missing her, although he says he knows he will see her again.
After assuring me that he was fine and repeatedly thanking me for checking on him, he scooted along on his way, enjoying the cool breeze and a Reese's peanut butter cup. I pulled in the garage, unloaded the kids, and we went inside. The full weight of this encounter struck me as I sat down to nurse Nora, as uncontrollable tears streamed down my face.
It is so easy to get caught up in the monotony of today that I often forget life as I know it will not last forever.
With littles surrounding my day, needing diaper changes, clean underwear, and endless snacks (so many snacks), it is incredibly easy to get wrapped up in the whirlwind of this moment when their livelihood depends on me. I forget so easily that there will be a day when these little babies grow into fully capable adults and move out of my house to find their place in this world. My job, in the now, is not to simply survive until the next moment. It is to thrive in every moment with joy and peace, thanking God for the gift of each new second I'm given.
And let's talk about the man responsible for giving me these precious babies. How many moments have drifted by me without a single ounce of gratefulness for his hard work or his selflessness? Way more than I'd like to admit. Many drowsy mornings, nursing a newborn, where I didn't even get off my behind to send him off to work with a smile. While I know that we all eventually lose someone we love, my husband is not usually one who falls into that "Future Loss" category. That place is typically reserved for grandparents and maybe parents. Realistically, though, our goodbye kiss this morning easily could have been our last. As grim a thought as that is, we simply do not know the hour we will be sent Home.
Among these revelations from the brief interaction, was one I didn't expect. I do not appreciate my physical abilities like I should. There will, inevitably, be a day when my body is so worn out that I will no longer have the
luxury of relying on it. There will be a day when I will be reduced to a walker, cain, or even wheelchair - if I'm lucky. There may very well be a day when those little humans, I helped raise, will be changing my clothes or feeding me. While there are many days when this sounds ah-mazing, I cannot imagine the disappointment of such helplessness. There has ne'er been a burpee I enjoyed or a plank I wanted to repeat, but, have mercy, am I ever the more thankful that I can do one, if I so choose.
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I have always had a soft spot in my heart for the elderly. They seem so overlooked by our society but, man, they have such wisdom and insight to offer us, if we are willing to take a moment and listen. Next time you see an older person, don't let their frailty overwhelm you; be the neighbor you hope to have when you are one day in their orthotic shoes, because, friend, as much as we choose to avoid the thought, it will, indeed, happen to each of us.
"Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." James 4:14
"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." James 1:27
