blessing
A chill occupies the old farm house as the light of sunrise peeks its way over the eastern hills. Silence permeates except for the occasional moan from the relieved dog now curled tightly around the old shoe left by the sofa last evening. Soon the house will be bustling with the sounds of preparation for the day. As the canine and I sit quietly in the morning glow, I am filled with the wonder of creation and the gift of life that we all experience each day. Some seek to see the gift in life only if challenges do not exist. This pilgrim sees challenges as a part of the gift; a blessing to be unwrapped that brings joy to the giver and meaning to the gifted. May the challenges you face today be unwrapped to discover the gift that waits within.
The streets were crowded in that early evening of mid December in Ahmadabad, India. The court order for custody of my daughter had been signed. We crossed the treacherous threshold to the ashram and wound our way to the entrance for that last visit. My daughter would be soon in my full time care and no longer a ward of the State of Gujarat. For six months I had jokingly told the lawyer there that when the order for Ahsha’s custody was signed, the heavens would cry for joy and Gujarat would get its rain. The monsoon had been virtually nonexistent that year. As we entered the dimly lit ashram from the gently falling rain, a clap of lightening descended with a thunderous roar and all went black in those halls of Odhav. Suddenly, candles arrived as we were escorted to the Superintendant’s office. Mosquitoes, drawn by the candle light, were so thick I had to cover my mouth and nose with one hand while signing the release papers with the other. In the candle glow, my daughter, wrapped in a blanket I had purchased for her six months prior, was handed to me. I held her close as tears of joy streamed down my face in gratitude that we were finally together. As we drove away from the ashram, the rain pummeled the packed earth, quenching its thirst. We soon arrived at the home of our host to the exclamation of a neighbor in the doorway, shouting with arms raised to heaven; “all of India is blessed because of this child.” Although much more had to be accomplished, the expression of gratitude and blessing that evening would serve as fuel for the journey that lie ahead. Faith, hope, and love have sustained through the years as God’s mercy and grace have been poured out.
I read the agreement and corporate disclaimer and grabbed the pen to sign the document. As I began to render my signature, I noticed the familiar slant and broad stroke from years gone by. I raised my hand to examine it to find an absence of tremor at that moment. Pen to paper, I filled the blank spaces requiring address and phone number. Absent was the micro script that has consumed the hand writing efforts of the last two years. Present was the broad and sweeping script characteristic in past renderings. What to many may seem a minor gift was to me a golden treasure. My second grade teacher had chastised me for poor script as we were expected in those days to master cursive writing. Attention to that perceived deficit had produced an attractive flair that had characterized my handwriting for so long. Parkinson’s uninvited invasion, now camping out for the duration, has insinuated its movement limitations in my right hand and foot. The discovery this morning that nimble flexibility had at least for the moment returned ignited a burst of thankfulness. One would normally not think that such a little thing as nimble fingers would give pause for praise, but PD is like the thief that quietly invades time after time, stealing more and more of the “little” things that we take for granted. Having one or two restored, if even for a short while, is like being flooded with the fondest of memories. I am grateful to be learning not to take even the most minor ability for granted or as a “right” as a functioning human, but to rather view everything as a blessing, even if only in a memory!