Yesterday, some of my friends threw me a party. It wasn't a "surprise party" in the sense that I knew it was scheduled. It was a surprise in that my mom drove me to the park to find four picnic tables, beautifully set with lace table cloth, china tea cups, vases of flowers, and and the like. The buffet table was decorated with rose vines climbing georgeous tea trays of delicate delights. It looked like a bridal shower and I felt so loved.
At the end, they blessed me with a beautiful, hand-made prayer quilt made by a ministry at a local church and lovingly tied by many of our church and homeschool friends. <3 Even my daughter got to tie a prayer knot several months ago, at one of the few Pioneer Club meetings she was able to go to. It is so special to me because so many different people, from different walks of my life, over such a long time, have all been involved, and of course all the prayers it represents.
Boy am I exhausted today. There is no one I would not have wanted to spend time with yesterday (Thank you all!), but I was glad they waited so many months to throw this party, as being around so many people, so many conversations, and so much sensory stimulation, was neurologically overwhelming and I can't imagine trying even a month or two ago! It was a very relaxed, low key setting, and we enjoyed resting in the shade of trees and the sipping iced tea and lemon-aid in the picnic shelter, while the kids ran off to play in the park within eye sight. I don't think there could have been a more ideal situation. I am very thankful. I am just sad that I'm not able to be the social butterfly I used to be. I, absolutely do better in a quiet one-on-one setting now. But the only way we find these things out is by trying!
And yes, there were tears before Rick got out the door this morning. :( I have resigned myself to the reality that, while I am capable of taking some steps around the house without it, I am just safer and more secure with at least a cane. I was worried Rick would be disappointed in me with this decision, and so the tears came rushing. He assured me that even if I were never past a wheel chair he would still love me and be proud, so that was a huge relief.
I feel like the first 9 months of all this were like prison. I am beginning to feel a little more "freedom" now, a semblance of a measure of normality in my life. There are many things that are not at all the same, and may never be. I am still a prisioner of my own body, but it seems someone has cracked a window open to let in abit of sonlight and fresh air. Today's verse, while written about Paul, captures some no this emergence, the related feelings, and the acts of family and friends in my gradually changing perspective:
He ordered the centurion to keep Paul under guard but to give him some freedom and permit his friends to take care of his needs. - Acts 24:23