my poor Papa

Early February, I was shovelling snow in the back yard . . . something I've had lots of practice at this winter.  I was surprised to notice the cat bed on the back porch - left out just in case Lily braved outside and needed warmth - was occupied.  A little sparrow was sweetly lying as though asleep, sheltered from the cold.

photo taken after one of my kids had gone out and shaken the sparrow up a bit.
I agree, it is weird that I still took a photo . . .

I wondered how the bird had died - from the cold winter?  starved because I'd neglected to put out food?  choked on our popcorn/cranberry garlands left from Christmas?  was it old and had found a place of comfort?  I couldn't know and felt pathetically sad for its loss.  My thoughts turned to the Sermon on the Mount and the text about not worrying about one's life . . . "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them."  Comforting, definitely.  But a reminder too that even God's care doesn't always guarantee ease or lack of distress.

Next day, Friday, February 7th, I had to hold on to those words of comfort - that God is involved and knows our needs - when I received Mom's unwelcome call from Surrey Memorial Hospital sharing of Dad's accident around noon that day.  At a building supply store to pick up an exterior steel-framed door for a widow friend, a stack of doors had fallen like dominoes on top of him, crushing his left leg over his right.  Though the latter was badly bruised, it was protected by the left leg, which suffered a compound break in the femur above the knee (thus the bone protruding out the back creating a nasty wound).  He also had a complicated break below the knee and four breaks in his foot - which went undiscovered for two weeks!

Mom and Dad with my cute niece, Nora

Friday found me anxious how he'd manage surgery, a higher-risk procedure due to kidney disease and his resulting low blood pressure.  I experienced sympathy pains through my sleep, dreaming all kinds of things related to Dad, waking with intense pain in my elbows.  It took me a moment to realize I really had no such thing.  I had taken a comment from my brother, Rob, how Dad had to slide himself out from underneath the doors, shimmying back on his elbows and brought that into my sleep.  I must have felt some need to identify with Dad's pain (as if I could!) as not usually a "faller" - I fell twice on ice that week and then badly down my basement stairs.  It was likely because I was more tired than usual, but my sore, very lightly bruised body reminded me of how extreme Dad's pain must be.  :(

Valentine's Day, Mom playfully decked his foot out with the ribbon from her box of chocolates.
Couldn't make it look any better . . . 

Thankfully Dad had surgery early Saturday morning without complication.  Those set in afterward with literally breathtaking hiccups non-stop for a week, very low hemoglobin levels causing lack of oxygen, (additional) fatigue, dizziness and the need for transfusions, as well as a deep wound open for infection.  Receiving many well-wishes from friends for Dad's recovery, it was a reminder that few of us realized the gravity of the accident.  "Is your Dad out of the hospital yet? is a common question.  While making some headway five weeks later, he is still has a long journey to recovery, not nearly as close to rehabilitation as we'd like.

Most of you who read this blog have heard the details or have been following my sister's super-informative blog with updates of his recovery.  Thank you for praying for him often through this time, as well as for my family and I.  It's certainly been hard to know of his great discomfort, as well as the fatigue and busyness created for my mother and siblings as they faithfully visit him in hospital (which of course they are happy to do, but it detracts from their regular duties).  I wish I could be there but commitments have prevented it for now.

As for that poor bird, I strangely kept him in the bed until the kids started to shake it around in there.  It helped remind me to not be too anxious . . .