Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Part One of Two .. God's Choreography

God’s Choreography

What does a deer through the windshield have in common with the flu bug?  They each formed part of our dance to God’s gracious choreography.
One April afternoon I received the call that Mother had been admitted to the hospital.  Early diagnosis said, “just the flu,” but in a 93-year-old woman, that could be dangerous.  They couldn’t keep her long, she was to be released the following afternoon.  Within the hour I was packed and driving out for the three and a half-hour trip.  “Daughter to the Rescue,” I was flying low.
The deer standing in the median strip caught my eye.  Before I could react, BOOM!  I didn’t even notice her moving, but I certainly noticed my windshield view fragmenting.   Luckily I could see out of the lower two inches.  Just barely enough clear glass remained to allow me to get the car off the divided highway and onto the shoulder.  Somehow I missed hitting the highway marker I hadn’t seen.  Every passing semi shook more glass shards onto my lap.
Before I stopped shaking, my cell phone was in my hand and I was hitting “2” on my speed dial for AAA Wisconsin.  Together the soft, calm voice on the other end and I figured out just where I was, and she dispatched the nearest response team.
An hour or two later, with the car safely towed into the dealership, I regretfully called the hospital and told Mother to expect me the next day.  How I came out of that mess with nothing more than glass in my hair (and into the back seat) is nothing but evidence of God’s mercy!  Not a bump, not a scratch, not even an ache the next day.  However, the car was not so lucky.  The windshield’s “Safety glass” spider-webbed, but did not blow out.  The EMT team had to help open the driver’s side door so I could get out.  The car was battered from hood to trunk.
Bright and early the next morning I tried again … in a rental car.  Other than being startled by a bird flying up out of the median, this trip was uneventful.  I arrived in time to bring Mother home to her apartment.
She may not have been sick enough to stay in the hospital, but she sure wasn’t well enough to be home!  The following night I was calling 911 again.  Dehydration called for IV drip, after which she was again sent home (in the wee hours of the morning.)
The next afternoon I investigated an assisted living facility the nurse had mentioned.  I sang its praises to Mother, but she feared even considering such an idea.  “I can’t afford that!”

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