Yesterday I had dinner with my grandparents again. Grandmom has bursitis in her right shoulder, and it's so painful for her that you can't even touch it without causing her to wince. But that woman has an attitude of peace if I ever saw one. You wouldn't know she was hurting unless she told you, and she never, ever complains. However, this is both a gift and a curse. We didn't even know she was in pain until a week after it started. Then it was another week before she went to the doctor. Her reasoning, for this and many other things, was that she didn't want to "put anybody out." This goes for a doctor visit, borrowing a wheelchair from the main community building, having someone bring meals to their apartment, you name it. Things they are ALREADY PAYING FOR. My parents keep telling her over and over, "Mom, you can't do these things by yourself anymore. You need help!" We love her to death, but her way of thinking is likely never going to change.
After dinner, we walked them back to the cottage as usual. My mom is in charge of their finances, so she makes sure to go over the bills whenever she's there. We were sitting on the couch, her flipping through envelopes, my dad on the couch across from her, me just glancing over the covers of magazines sitting on the coffee table. And suddenly my grandfather perked up from his hunched-over position in his chair, looked right at me and said,
"How's our Darbie Lee doing?"
He called me by name.
I think I smiled and said, "Doing well," but my mind was reeling. I had to turn away so the tears in my eyes wouldn't be seen. He remembered my name. Just for that one moment, he remembered. That was all I wanted.
Lately God has been silent in response to my pleas about my own future. But last night He gave me a gift.
I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining.
I believe in love, even when feeling it not.
I believe in God, even when God is silent.
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