The Back Side of Summer (and suffering)

As August approaches full bloom, some surprises surface. Just outside our windows, some intrepid morning glories we DID NOT PLANT are all about decorating an old trellis after the clematis has died out for the year. I took the photo from the inside, through the screen, but these beauties are still gorgeous.

Not far away, this upstart sunflower lifts its head to its source. Thank you birds, for planting this one, and Granddaughter Cora for snapping this shot. We’ve noticed how every morning, the blossom turns eastward to greet the morning sun, and by afternoon, has revolved to the other side of our world.

I’ve been thinking a lot about pain lately–so many types to consider. My Texas friends post photos of deep crevasses in their soil because of the horrible drought. Such a heart-rending form of loss. A few weeks ago, a long-time friend of mine passed from this life after a seemingly endlesss battle with cancer.

Another friend faces surgery for breast cancer in two weeks, and another, only 38 years old with an infant and a young child, has entered the same struggle. You all have many other names to add to this list–suffering lurks everywhere around us.

Of course, we’ve all heard how it makes us better people in the long run. Some of us have memorized these promises, claimed them . . . but when sorrow or pain or terrible loss hits us, we may forget their consolation for a time.

To quote R. W. Emerson: Every moment instructs, and every object; for wisdom is infused into every form. It has been poured into us as blood; it convulsed us as pain; it slid into us as pleasure; it enveloped us in dull, melancholy days, or in days of cheerful labor; we did not guess its essence until after long time.

“We did not guess its essence until after long time.” Wisdom coming to us in pain? Sure doesn’t feel like it!

Every single moment instructs us–looking back over some of the worst situations of my life, I know this is true. One recent outstanding circumstance comes to mind–the April night before surgery for my broken femur. Confined to bed, watched over by caring nurses, I “got used to” my new state. And right in the middle of my conjectures, someone’s comment reminded me of all the good that had come my way during the past year.

A sense enveloped me that, based on these past experiences, all would be well this time, too. If my Creator could resolve those long-term struggles, surely this one lay within the reach of grace.

How many times have I traveled this route with one of my characters? A reader wrote me yesterday, asking if I had planned from the beginning for a horrendous loss to strike one of them. No, I hadn’t. As the story progressed, like real life, an almost unbearable grief entered his life–and he grew through the experience.

Just like we do.

Here’s the front side of the morning glories. Some years I’ve tried to transplant them, but they really do much better totally on their own. From the back, the glow of early morning sunshine makes this scene just as pretty. A new perspective…sunshine where we might not have expected it. Beauty poking into our kitchen.

Recently I read this on a FaceBook post, with no author mentioned:

Never regret a day in your life: good days give happiness, bad days give experience, worst days give lessons, and best days give memories.

When pain besets us, this becomes our challenge. Life is hard–yes, that’s true. But life also offers us so much that’s good, both on the front side and the back.

From Behind the Walker…

Having surgery leads to all kinds of insights. The challenge is in finding the energy to post them! But here are a few for you, introduced by some beauty that came my way from our rural parish friends.

Hospitalization alters your perspective. We’ve all been reminded lately of the invaluable services and care our health workers provide. Well…seeing this firsthand drives that realization even deeper.

Thanks to everyone at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN who transformed me into a bionic woman. Trustworthy, competent caregivers make all the difference. My husband has continued this kind of thoughtful, proactive interaction here at home–here you see his latest innovation. I can’t thank him enough!

Before surgery, our friend Heidi took extra time to instruct me on shower-taking…I haven’t found the courage for that yet, but will soon. She also brought an ingenious sock-putter-onner which works wonders!

Rodding around with my walker adds yet another view of the world. It’s a simpler world than when I left, with some new mobility limits. LIVE SIMPLY, my flower container says, and I really have little choice. But it’s been freeing to be able to transport my tea cup and other small items to and from the kitchen…one small spark of independence!

It’s always good to get a new view of things, don’t you think?

Lots of time for reading this past week. Ane Mulligan’s IN HIGH COTTON has kept me in the company of some incredibly strong Southern women, and now I’m reading Susan Count’s middle-grade fiction,THE FIREFLY WARRIOR’S CLUB. I also was able to share about my WWII characters with several readers in the hospital, an unexpected gift. And of course, fodder for future novels lay all around me!

So many friends and authors I’ve never met face-to-face (yet) have sent messages of prayers and encouragement. Saying thank you seems such a small token, but it’s what I humbly offer.

So here’s my view from behind the walker. We truly are not in charge at any point, although we may think we are. But new experiences like this increase awareness of this fact. It’s my opportunity to gratefully embrace the divine love that comes my way from so many directions.