God's Choreography ... Part Two

God's Choreography ... Part Two
      
       Overnight, the flu bug struck again … this time at me, and with a vengeance.  Fearful of re-infecting Mother, I made arrangements to leave for home.  Meals were already prepared and in the freezer, and a young woman living in the apartment building was willing to check on Mother daily.  Mom assured me she’d be “fine,” and she did sound stronger.  I hated to go, but I couldn’t stay.
I called several times in the next couple of days, and all seemed … if not “well,” at least it was “better.”
God used all this turmoil in His choreography.  God had delayed my first arrival.  I was then allowed to make the effort, and to pursue “possibilities,” but it was evident I was not the principal dancer here.  The flu effectively booted me off stage so that Mother could continue her dance to God’s choreography.
Pre-dawn Monday morning, the emergency room nurse called.  Mother was back.  Dehydration is not an illness allowing hospitalization, at least not on Medicare payments, yet obviously Mother was unable to live alone in her apartment.  She needed more care than just a daily “check in” person could provide.
God directed the ballet with the ER nurse in the main supporting role.  Mother remembered the name of the assisted living facility I had seen.  The nurse made the many phone calls to me and the facility’s manager.  By late afternoon the dance culminated with Mother’s admittance to the facility, “until I get better.”  Three days later, she asked if she could stay.  It was time for other dancers to take center stage with her.
Allowed my part again in the encore performance, the official moving day occurred six weeks later.  Everything Mother owned had been sorted.  Most of her furniture and all of her clothing went with her.  Extra possessions were sent off with grandchildren, or to Goodwill and the Salvation Army.  The ballet was concluded.
The standing ovation occurred that evening as Mother looked around her new accommodations.  Her own furniture was creatively arranged to form small living areas.  Her own pictures hung on the wall.  Her favorite pottery pieces graced the wide windowsills.  A few unopened boxes were pulled out of sight.  As late-afternoon sun beamed through her large windows, Mother sat back with a sigh.  “I am … soooo happy!” she said, looking around at her domain.  “I just love it here!”
God’s choreography gave Mother and me nearly eight more months before He gathered her in her final bow.  From sleep, directly into God’s arms.
What a dance!