Rest Begins

The rest begins. I think back on July as a summer roller coaster. We started out with the return to David's hometown for his fortieth class reunion. How did I find myself married to an "old man?" Yet, despite the high sounding number of forty, no one looked old at all, to me. David, though, remembered these people in their teens. I enjoyed his classmates and the party.
We also visited his dad in the nursing home. I work with people of this age and like condition all the time. Yet, seeing a strong one in my life and in my spouse's life playing a light up ball game of catch with his wife of sixty eight years, cuts into my gut. I observed the emotions in my husband's eyes. I know to some extent what is happening, but never fully. We had a free moment and I hug him. This is also part of love and growing old together. Everyone is anxious to know what David thinks, since he hadn't seen his dad in over a year. David can't even say. I remain silent.
The Friday after this weekend, I fit a summer into a day with my great nephew, niece and my oldest daughter. We tour a big part of eastern Ohio, the city, the forest, the country and small town. The day smells of summer. The last leg of the trip, I sit by a farm pond outside of Canfield, Ohio, soaking in the kids playing fetch with the farm's dog, Bonnie. One more trip to a lake and a whole summer could have been done, but I felt that is pushing it.
I also remember the dates exactly on the days of six years ago when my mom fought her final battle with death, July thirteenth. The weather also duplicated, even raining in the morning of that Sunday. I work now at a nursing home, I leave that afternoon to take care of my adopted moms and dads. Yet some have died that past week and their beds remain empty that Sunday. I wonder when other beds will empty and make bargains with God, then scratch them, because that is not the way He works.
The weeks stretch with only a day off at a time. The schedule remains a big secret until almost the day the current one is over. Repair work disrupts any morning peace I need for rest, whether awake or not. One morning, I relished my coffee at six twenty, I pray, read my Bible, then the jack hammer pounds directly out my window, the jarring jamming my head into an ache. Peace flees for that day.
I find focusing hard. I only stare at the computer screen. It continues for weeks.
Soon, I discover my second novel is close to print. I prayed over the weekend as the realization dawns, please let me announce it on Dad's birthday. As I wrote yesterday, that prayer was answered. I'm floating, then that stone of finances shot at the float, reminding me I didn't hit the lotto. Nor do I really want to do that. Maybe I take pride in the work, the journey that continues.
A spiritual struggle sprints in my life, too. The road work, the sleeping in at times, the running the girls to work and back and the dog needing a walk, while I can hardly move, or feel no time yawning ahead of me, kept

Playing fetch with Bonnie at White House Farms

me from my quiet time. The dog antsied about the house, dragging panties to display in the living room, looking at me with his ears perked and eyes demanding.
Here I am, now, on a three day rest. I reflect, I pray and I rejoice as I write. I don't mind August. I anticipate September and early October. I think, I can even still have windows open in November at times. This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.