Admiring From Afar

2019 has given us a lot of perspective. We have learned we can be hopeful and devastated at the same time and that we can do our best to be diligent yet still make mistakes with consequences that can’t be accurately measured. A painful perspective is that time is racing by, but it often feels like it has been stopped in the wrong place for too long.

Normally the weather isn’t a subject that interests me much. I’m from Phoenix, Arizona, so it’s usually pretty steady here, and listening to people complain about the heat has worn me out over the years. I pretty much tune out as soon as the conversation heads that direction. But sometimes there’s a break in the monotony, and we are gifted with a rare day. The kind of day that in a past life would draw us outside to marvel at its uniqueness.

A couple weeks ago our area was hit with hail. Lots of it. Hail was piled up to a foot deep on the side of the street and in people’s yards. I had never seen anything like it! There was a time when it would have been impossible to keep Tate inside on a day like that; he would have been outside playing until it got dark.

You can’t tell from the picture above, but a little fog had settled over the park by our house, and it had a spectacular look to it. Driving home from therapy (and to be honest, Little Caesar’s) Tate asked me to pull over so he could get out of the car. For a foolish moment, I thought my old Tate, pre-Leukemia Tate, was going to scoop up a handful of hail, throw it, and then turn around with a huge grin on his face. He didn’t. Instead, he limped about 15 steps into the park, paused to take in the view, and then walked back to the car. He was too tired and too cold to stand there any longer.

I was really sad about it until I realized that a year ago Tate was losing his hair for the second time and couldn’t walk at all. He was getting chemotherapy 3-5 times per week, and he was in pain every waking moment. That tired, limping Tate at the park is on his way back to us, I just couldn’t see it through the lens of someone reaching too far back into the past.

Another weird-for-Phoenix weather thing happened over the weekend. The mountains we can see from our house have snow on them! It’s such a treat! On the way to therapy today, snowy mountains in the not-too-far distance, I asked Tate if he’d like to go see the snow. He said, “No, I prefer to admire them from afar.” I accepted that response immediately and without sadness. The day Tate is ready to drive to the snow will come, I am sure of it.

In our world of conflicting and coexisting truths, where contemplating something as ordinary as the weather blasted me with perspective about life, we remain grateful. Grateful for the love and support we have received the last 18 months. Grateful for the grace people show us when we are tired and broken and unable to reciprocate in any way. Grateful we still have our son.

Happy New Year from all of us to all of you. We wish you happiness and good health.