Friday, July 26, 2013

But I could feel it, walkin' on a country road...

We have had rain twice this week. A few days ago, a ferocious slow-moving thunderstorm passed over, complete with high winds, hail, lightening and a torrential downpour that turned our driveway into a river, edge to edge, with water pouring out of the field and the wet weather spring overflowing its banks.

We were without power for about an hour, which was not too big a price to pay for the lovely water, even if it did come a bit faster than we would have liked.

It rained again today, beginning at about noon, but a very different sort of rain. More like a drizzle, and it has drizzled rain all day long and it is still drizzling as I write this. A perfect, lovely slow shower that falls gently on the ground and soaks in.

The Mollynater expects to go for a her evening walk at about 5 pm, and when her internal clock told her it was time, she was here, by my chair, looking needy and resting her chin on my leg. So. I put on her rain coat, punched my right hand through the bottom of a large plastic bag, wrapped up my broken arm and got it arranged in the sling, got the big umbrella, which I can hold in my right hand, and off we went for a walk.

I guess my feet know where they want me to go walking on a country road.
Walk on down, walk on down, walk on down, walk on down, walk on down a country road.

Na na na na na na na na na na na, country road, yeah, walking on a country road...
Only we did not go walking on this particular country road, which was my favorite place to walk with her until July 3. This lovely tree-lined road runs parallel with the town. To the left is one of the watersheds that runs through town, which one crosses on a low-water bridge, then comes the train tracks, and then on the other side of that is the city park with the walking trail, where I now walk with her most every day, the playground equipment for children, the tennis courts, and the baseball diamonds.

On a warm early evening in late May, one may walk down this road, hear any number of assorted birds singing to each other, the whistle of the coal train as it comes to the first crossing a few miles away, heading toward Springfield from somewhere south and east of here, the sound of burbling water in the watershed, which is flowing a bit thanks to a recent rain, and the crack of an aluminum bat on a softball, over and over, as someone practices hitting.

Unfortunately, I will not be walking on this road again any time soon – at least not without another body next to me to link arms with. I simply cannot fall again and break anything else. I just can’t. So, I have to be content with walking only on smoothly paved roads, unless perhaps I can talk someone else into going with me?

Monday, July 15, 2013

…mysterious ways His wonders to perform

The Molly Wog and I were about three-quarters of the way around the walking path at the city park on Saturday morning when I realized I did not have my cell phone with me.

Don’t leave home without it....

is supposed to be the new watchword, but I had obviously muddled my way out the door with the mail pouch, and the dog, and a plastic sack to pick up her poop, but not the phone.

So when I got home I looked for the cell phone and it was not to be found.

Anywhere. Gone. Missing in action.

I made return trips to town later in the afternoon and again early Sunday morning, retracing everywhere I had gone on Friday that I might have dropped it.

We were feeling rather glum. The phone had 2,200 prepaid minutes on it.

By the time Sunday morning dawned, I was still feeling rather glum but more or less reconciled to the fact that the phone was gone and I needed to let it go and move on.

I almost didn’t say anything in church about it but then suddenly decided to mention it as a prayer request.

No sooner had I finished then Sherril, who is often not there on Sunday because she spends weekends with her kids who are out of town, spoke up, and said…

I found a cell phone on the floor of the post office Friday morning and turned it in at the counter.

Richard wants to know “Did it have a black case?”

“Yep,” she says. “I believe it did…”

We sat there stunned at this unexpected news, and the day suddenly became much less glummy.

The mail at the post office is supposed to be in the boxes by 9 a.m., and that is when the bulk of the box holders arrive to get their mail, most of whom operate businesses in town. A steady stream of people flows in and out of the lobby beginning at 9 a.m., which is when I am usually there. And on occasion I even see Sherril, who is a real estate agent in town.

I did not see her on Friday morning, but I believe God sent her in there right after me so that she would be the one to find my cell phone… and that she would happen to be at church Sunday to tell me…

And this morning my cell phone was safe in my pocket when Molly Wolly Doodle and I made the circuit at the park.

Some would say it was just coincidence that things turned out this way. Not me! His ways are indeed mysterious and wondrous and awesome.

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Busier than a one-armed…

One of my father’s favorite sayings when we were kids was “I’m busier than a one-armed paper hanger…” It was guaranteed to get a smile as we imagined the poor soul with one arm struggling to do a job that really needs two arms.

I sort of know the feeling.

Last Wednesday I was walking the dog on some uneven gravel on an alley behind Main Street in town (which I have walked down many, many times) and my ankle sort of rolled, and down I went on my right elbow.

I was hoping that maybe I had just dislocated it. How wrong I was.

I came home from the hospital late in the afternoon on Thursday (July 4) sporting some extensive, new hardware…

and a most miserable cast.

I don’t have any pain from the fracture itself, but the sensation that a colony of ants has taken up residence under the cast is just about driving me nuts.

I figured out how I could keep on editing using my left hand and the index finger of my right for occasional key strokes.

In a little while we are leaving for the first follow-up visit with the orthopedic surgeon. I am hoping to come home with something more reasonable on my arm.