Hospital beds

Reflections on the season

This is the second Sunday I’m sitting bedside to my great grandma Alys. We’re playing the YouTube replay of church service for her on my computer. She closes her eyes during songs and repeats the service by heart.

In 105 years she had never broken a bone. Two Thursdays ago she broke a shoulder, a hip in two places, and maybe shattered the elbow she cut open during a hard fall.

Six years ago when she was 99 I remember sitting the a hospital room with her while she dealt with a heart problem. Miraculously they granted her heart surgery and it was no surprise for us to see her continue crocheting blankets for cancer patients or visiting friends for cards in her retirement community. She’s been in charge of the congregation prayer chain for who knows how long. She could probably tell me; she’s still sharp as a whip.

Until this fall where she can no longer leave a bed. Now she needs help taking a sip of water. Despite being 105, this change has somehow shocked me internally.

At church today we sang Psalm 46. I wrote about finding peace in that Psalm two years ago. The sermon was about Christ The King Sunday, the reminder that Jesus reigns supreme and conquered death. It talked about our own deaths and how aging reminds us of the gospel promises.

I don’t have a reflective lesson today. It felt necessary to document somewhere these moments.

I took this past month off and featured guest writers for the Motherhood and Mental Health series. As a reminder to lean in harder to my faith, my mental health has indeed been strained. My child and I were sick, great grandma fell, and my prayers for a simpler life are repeated daily.

Writing keeps me going. Prayer keeps me focused. Life is a cycle. We go on.