We are not home yet, so live out loud!

The fog is thick with moisture, even the sun can't penetrate the gloom.

The middle of the day we make our way to a new office, a new doctor, and uncertainty.  It is a cold reception, colder than the overcast sky outside.  No familiar faces to ease the tension.

We answer questions, they are the same, but in return we receive different responses.  There is no understanding, compassion, or sympathetic tones.  Only a warning, "This may not be a good fit."

The appointment ends with stipulations and uneasiness.  Some of the spoken words are hard for ears to hear, and others leave minds and hearts bewildered.

Have my mother and I just met the doctor who will make the right changes in my mother's care, or a man who does not have time for anything but indifference and a resigned attitude?

Later in the evening, my son has gone to bed, I venture into territory of doubt with my mother.  While realizing this could be an important moment in her life and care, I weigh my words carefully.

The conversation does not begin well, for that matter, it is as expected.  My mother's feelings are bruised and sore.

Now to tenderly apply a bandage to wound.  I believe the wound was needed to be made, but maybe with a little more care and concern?  You see, many times in the past my mother has given the impression of a person who has given up.  I pray the words to this beautiful song will reach her heart...

...let us not grow weary  ...keep looking ahead  ...let your heart not forget.  We are not home yet!  ...let us journey on.

Going back to that afternoon, we left the office and the sun had finally broken through the haze of the morning.

"I need my sunglasses, and I think I left them at home," was my mothers reply.

A comment from my son sends my mother into a tizzy.  As the bickering reaches the ends of my nerves, I pull the car over.  We are only a few blocks from home, but this is typical for the two of them.

Somehow the argument turns ugly.  My mother declares she wants to go home, "This is my car, this is my life."

(Being legally blind there wasn't much she could do but wait for me to decide it was quiet enough to continue the drive home.)

Now, in the middle of the night, we are discussing whether to seek a new doctor, and my mother is contemplating the role she plays in her own care.  How much responsibility is she willing to take?

After more discussion, and a few heated words I then gently bring to her memory the words she so eloquently spoke earlier, this is my car, this is my life.

I agree with these words.  It is her car and her life, but she will get nowhere without assistance.  I also remind her that my son and I are passengers in her life.  Where she decides to go we must also.  Unless she is prepared to have us get out?

After some tears, hugs, and a little more understanding our issues are resolved for the day.  The gloom has been replaced with the shining glow of our Savior's grace.

And just so you know, the biggest decision my mother made was to.....

Praise the Lord!!! 

"I have had trouble and misery, but I love your commands.  Your rules are always good.  Help me understand so I can live."  Psalm 119:143-144 

Everybody Live Out Loud!

Thank you Steven Curtis Chapman.

photo credit: torremountain