On holding hands and telling stories

They sat together today. He in the chair. She on the bed. She held his hand. She told him about the grandchildren opening the trunk of costumes out in the barn. And the hours of fun the children had trying on costumes and looking at the mirror. And he smiled and laughed (a silent laugh but a laugh none-the-less). She told him how they caught a mole. And how Sophie held it. And how it had paws like shovels and silky fur. And he smiled and laughed some more.

 She asked him if he'll be able to polka in November when the kids come for Thanksgiving to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. He shrugged his shoulders.

We cheered when he sat in a chair today because it has been days and days and days since he sat in a chair. And the Occupational Therapist had him shrug his shoulders today. Perhaps that's why he was good at that.

He asked her to massage his arms. And she did. So lovingly. Together almost fifty years. Their oneness evidenced by me in the hospital today. Invited and welcomed to be there.

And we are thankful that he breathes today. Better than yesterday.

Thankful for today.
Thankful that he breathes.
Thankful that he communicates.
Thankful she held his hand and they shared life together today.
Thankful for a story about costumes and moles during a long hospital ICU stay.

Maybe more of my time should be spent holding hands and telling stories.
Creating more margin for the real space of real life to take place.

I am thankful for today, even though he is still in ICU, even though it has been longer than 30 days.
Amen.

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What are you thankful for today?

Linking with Ann, Jen and Emily this week.