It’s
usually the roar of the engine that gets my heart racing and STOPS me from what
I’m doing. Looking up with radar like
precision, I track the huge commercial aircraft flying very low overhead. The sheer
size of these planes takes my breath away as they come into view above the
trees lining our property. My family
often laughs at me (not appreciating or feeling the same exhilaration) as I
freeze midsentence – to begin searching the clear blue skies. Ken finds it irritating and often yells, “squirrel” depicting how my attention is diverted
in an upward direction for those few moments of flight.
“What is
the deal with these low flying planes?” has become normal conversation with
friends in the neighborhood. We are miles from an airport large enough to
accommodate Boeing commercial jets. But
for reasons unknown to me air traffic patterns have changed, directing these
monsters to begin descent over the area surrounding the ½ acre I call home.
This summer has allowed me hours of mindless
entertainment watching the skies populated by massively large, low flying
airplanes. I’m in awe of how fast they travel,
often joking about “seeing the color of the pilots’ eyes”! But like so many other objects that come into
view – they often appear larger (and closer) than they really are.
~~~~~~~~
Anniversaries are customarily acknowledged in
some sort of way. On this given day in
July – as my legs dangle off the examination table at my neurologist office – I
have much to celebrate (if you can call it that). 10 years ago, I held Kens’ hand as tears
fell from my eyes hearing the diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis. 10 years ago, I knew nothing about the stages
of loss & acceptance to be endured with the progression of this
illness. And I certainly knew nothing
about the faith I would need to call upon. I just remember those early years navigating
new pathways and patterns for my life.
My diagnosis became unavoidably the biggest interruption – very much the
“squirrel” in my life.
But I am witness to the healing power of
“living by design”. It has been a slow climb bringing me here today, legs
dangling in the waiting room. Ken wanted
to be with me for support, but I am feeling strong and confident. The giant MS beast – not long ago filling me
with fear – comes into view smaller than it once appeared. Although it is undeniably still present, its looming
shadow does not conceal all the sunlight.
My doctor visit is over quickly and I receive the thumbs up that all is
well. (Not the usual anniversary gift….
but I’ll take it)
~~~~~~~~
I rush home to sit in the yard & enjoy
the passing of those large jets. But there
is a noticeable change again in the air traffic patterns. I do not know why but the skies are silent
and void of any activity. Just like that
new patterns and pathways are being made.
I’ll miss my pulse racing and the
excitement of seeing those large objects – or maybe they really weren’t that
large after all.
