Advent Thoughts, #22
I am writing ahead, possibly because I won't have access to a computer for a few days.
Christmas virtue: Thankfulness, gratitude.
Can we be too thankful? No, never.
Yesterday I met an interesting character. I was sitting with my mother through her chemo treatment. Other women come to the room; some stay the whole day, some come for a short treatment, such as to have the port flushed or to get a shot or to receive a "bag" of some fluid, such as magnesium. They are a community; I cannot explain fully, but I think my mother is somehow blessed by them. Many are friendly, upbeat women who take any good sign as very hopeful. One African American woman, a little doll, came in. Back in August, when I first started taking Mom, this woman was very weak, very small. She looked good yesterday, had gained weight, and her hair was growing back. That was a good thing, a blessed thing.
Thankfulness is relative. The less we have the more thankful we are for what we do receive.
However, the interesting character was someone else. He was an 83-year-old man who came in with his wife for a short "flushing." He played his harmonica for us, Hark the Herald Angels, and then began to talk. he liked to talk. He is Hungarian, a survivor of Russian prison camps, an escapee from communism, a devoted Christian (I think of the fundamentalist stripe; he liked to talk about prophecy). What a story! He spent five years separated from his wife because he escaped and couldn't get her out. I got his name but will not put it here; I am sure he prefers some privacy. But he was such a blessing, and he made it clear he understands the gift of being in the U.S. Not because of being able to make money, which seems to be too much on the minds of some immigrants today. But because he lived under communism and knows what that means.
Christmas virtue: Thankfulness, gratitude.
Can we be too thankful? No, never.
Yesterday I met an interesting character. I was sitting with my mother through her chemo treatment. Other women come to the room; some stay the whole day, some come for a short treatment, such as to have the port flushed or to get a shot or to receive a "bag" of some fluid, such as magnesium. They are a community; I cannot explain fully, but I think my mother is somehow blessed by them. Many are friendly, upbeat women who take any good sign as very hopeful. One African American woman, a little doll, came in. Back in August, when I first started taking Mom, this woman was very weak, very small. She looked good yesterday, had gained weight, and her hair was growing back. That was a good thing, a blessed thing.
Thankfulness is relative. The less we have the more thankful we are for what we do receive.
However, the interesting character was someone else. He was an 83-year-old man who came in with his wife for a short "flushing." He played his harmonica for us, Hark the Herald Angels, and then began to talk. he liked to talk. He is Hungarian, a survivor of Russian prison camps, an escapee from communism, a devoted Christian (I think of the fundamentalist stripe; he liked to talk about prophecy). What a story! He spent five years separated from his wife because he escaped and couldn't get her out. I got his name but will not put it here; I am sure he prefers some privacy. But he was such a blessing, and he made it clear he understands the gift of being in the U.S. Not because of being able to make money, which seems to be too much on the minds of some immigrants today. But because he lived under communism and knows what that means.
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