Current Season

We usually think of seasons in terms of weather; there are also seasons of our lives. We talk of seasons of being young or old or middle-aged, seasons of being single, parenting, or having grandchildren, but there are other things that create a climate around us. Sometimes our season is working a lot; recently ours was relaxing in the Caribbean. These are the things that give variety, interest, differentiation, and beauty to our lives. We remember things better that aren’t the same old-same old.

I write in my journal of daily happenings; sometimes but not always it may reflect the climate or quality of life as it’s currently unfolding. For the past 2 years we’ve been in a season of illness; for the past 2 weeks our climate has been the hospital.

There are details that fill in the picture of a season:

The sights: We seem to drive the same roads every day to the hospital. Often we take Lake Forest and 121, through the construction of the new multilevel freeway, seeing changes every day. Except when we take Eldorado to avoid the mess. I go to work which takes me down 75 to University. The traffic is terrible because it’s the McKinney bottleneck and because of major construction at both exits, but the other options aren't any faster. Rarely do I go anywhere else. We spend our days and nights in a hospital room. At least it’s a private room now, but a hospital nonetheless, all walls and halls in the same color-less blah. I see home only to dress, undress and sleep.

Every season has emotions. Spirits are lifted as we drive around town enjoying the Autumn colors, a brisk wind, a chill in the air. The hospital brings out feelings of worry, stress, anticipation, watchfulness, waiting, hope, despair, struggle, peace, gratitude, boredom, fatigue, connection to and separation from others. In one sense this is real life as we deal with real issues; in another it disconnects us from the normal life going on outside these walls.

The sounds of this season include alarms and alerts from monitoring machines, of nurses talking in the halls, the bustle of much being done, and the eerie quiet of the middle of the night.

Touch is different too. We touch sheets and linens and towels, lotion for foot rubs and antibacterial hand scrubs, tubes and call buttons, a feverish brow, or cold, clammy skin.

Tastes for the patient are mostly water and Sprite. Mine include peanut butter crackers and string cheese, and more fast food than I eat in a year. The occasional real food my daughter-in-law brings me is a nice delight.

There's no sense of time at all. We can't seem to tell day from night or what day of the week it is.

One could say we are in a foxhole, a place where we are protected from the onslaught of the outside world, a place to heal and rejuvenate to resume the battle of life. It is also a place where we can find God, to feel his blessing and peace, and see his love in caring friends and family.

This is our season for now. It is ours to enjoy and appreciate for what it is, to see the colors and feel the experience, to learn and grow and serve, to be better, to know God. It may not be our favorite season, but we will open our arms and our hearts and accept what God has provided.