Sandwiched
I think I’m riding on a high from watching Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse last Saturday with my son Jonathon. If you haven’t seen this movie yet, I highly recommend it. It doesn’t matter if you’re not into comics, animated movies or whether a “PG” film isn’t typically your thing. It’s brilliant and has some tremendous messages.
One of these messages involves courage. It made me think about a constant prayer I had years ago.
Around 2012 or so, I felt like something was missing in my life. Yes, I had a great family, wonderful friends, a nice little home and a good career. I was doing volunteer work here and there and enjoying my community. But I felt like I’d never done anything truly courageous in my life.
At the time I pictured a courageous act as one where I’d boldly speak my mind on a heated topic without fear in front of a group. Or where I’d defend someone who was being bullied. Or where I would push someone out of the way of a speeding car or rush into a burning building to save an elderly lady.
So I asked God to put me on a path to do something courageous, something like what I had imagined. But of course, He never operates the way we think He will.
In the spring of 2013, my mom fell in her home in Mishawaka, near South Bend, and broke her leg in multiple places. With my brother traveling on vacation at the time and my sister in Florida, it was up to me to drive the 2 ½ hours north to be with her. My husband John had to stay here to take care of our boys.
Thankfully my nephew and his wife could be with Mom while I made the drive. I’ll never forget how badly I was shaking that day as I traveled up Highway 31. Shortly after I arrived at the hospital, my nephew and his wife left to be with their young son. Soon the orthopedic surgeon was showing Mom and me X-rays and discussing the surgery he would perform that very evening.
The X-rays looked awful and I couldn’t believe what would be involved in fixing her leg. Mom would be setting off metal detectors in airports and other locations for the rest of her life.
With my heart thumping, Mom and I made the decision for her to undergo the surgery. I took a seat in the waiting room and updated everyone via text and phone.
Mom was 80 at the time. This wasn’t minor surgery. I remember biting the back of my index finger often, a “stress” habit of mine, as I sat alone in that hospital, I prayed while I waited for what seemed like an eternity to hear how things went.
Finally, the doctor came out and told me that Mom did well, but would face a long road of recovery in rehabilitation. Still, she was okay. I was so relieved. I updated everyone again, gave Mom a kiss after she woke up, then drove to her house to spend the night and finally check on her dog.
As I struggled to sleep that night, it hit me that, in a weird way, God had just given me my chance to be courageous. And He would continue to give me more chances in the months and years ahead as I officially became a member of the sandwich generation.
I may not have to go into a burning building, but in a way, I’m helping to “save” someone every day – my precious mom. I’m grateful for this chance to be courageous in a unique and special way.