Dazzling with a Chance of Cloudy

I never could remember what I had for breakfast, so I don’t know why I should find it so incredibly annoying that I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast today. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been suffering with exorbitant measures of forgetfulness lately.

I remember picking up Ethan at the airport on Friday, the 21st of October. I remember how fresh he looked, and how his eyes sparkled over with joy. I remember how we held on to each other in an enchanting embrace, soaking each other in, blissfully ignoring passersby. I remember meeting Caddie and Phil at Jenna’s house, where they dropped off sweet little Nate. I can still smell his baby powder skin. I was jubilant to see the Murrays, and Ethan, so giddy with excitement I was barely able to hold on to my surprise of telling Ethan I’d just accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior. Ethan was holding on to a surprise of his own. I was sure he was going to tell me he’d quit his job and was moving back to California permanently.

I remember sailing out on a boat on that dazzling Southern Californian afternoon, heading out to sea to scatter my mother’s ashes. Seven dolphins crossed our path. I can still see their glistening fusiform bodies slithering past. Our memorial was unstructured, totally unplanned, yet somehow, something unspeakably beautiful came out of each of our mouths. We were calm, and very much at peace. Then Phil sang In Christ Alone. (To catch a glimpse of the impact this may have had on our hearts, click here). Phil’s voice began small and light and then grew slowly, rising steadily and bursting forth, rising on and on until the very top of the song. Delicate tears fell down Phil’s face and we all wept fully, piercingly into the salty air.


I remember leaving the boat and heading to a restaurant where we would feast on dinner and long-awaited company. Ethan was driving. Our sadness dimmed and a great serenity descended upon us. We started laughing and teasing one another. I laughed so hard, my lip gloss slipped out of my hand. Swept into the whirl of emotion I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wasn’t thinking at all. Out of reflex I unfastened my seat belt and reached for the slippery gloss. That’s the last thing I remember until I woke up in the hospital nearly twenty-four hours later. I have no memory of the crash. I feel terribly for the other three who remember every excruciating detail.

Since waking up in the hospital, every conscious moment has been either crystal clear or disturbingly clouded. I can’t remember most of Caddie’s visit following the accident. Ethan tells me he’s hardly left my side since that fateful Friday night. Looking at him, I can see he tells the truth, but I hardly remember half of the time he’s been here. From what the doctors are saying I understand I’m pretty lucky to be recovering as well as I am, given the extent of my injuries. Ethan’s been working with the hospital staff on special exercises which have improved my eye-hand coordination. Ethan also flew in a friend who specializes in alternative nerve therapy. This energetic German doctor has nearly eliminated my partial paralysis through an uncomfortably invasive pressure point program. Nearly eliminated my partial paralysis! How lucky I am to have a physical therapist for a boyfriend, who knows people and knows how to work around the system.

I only wish I could remember what I had for breakfast.

KAC

Notes:
Thank you my dear sweet sister Mary for typing for me.
In Christ Alone was written by Keith Getty and Stuart Townend.
The image above is by sabrinasphotos at: http://morguefile.com/archive/display/108411