As a little girl, I loved the color blue. Perhaps that was because my red-headed mother loved it too. Today it’s no longer a favorite of mine.
As I awoke this morning, I had the sensation that blue had seeped in overnight. I laid in bed ignoring the time. Getting out of bed wasn’t at the top of my list of things to do. It felt as if a heavy weight had been placed on my shoulders overnight.
Despite my best efforts, some days during this recovery are downers. A few posts earlier I wrote on the topic of patience. In the last paragraph, I boldly stated how I wanted to handle my attitude going forward.
Whisper is an intriguing word. It’s a word that can mean more than the soft, hushed undertones of the voice. For example, the dahlia above is faintly colored, somewhat hushed and faded, with a whisper of pink.
On Sunday, a guest pastor shared the morning’s message of Pentecost with our children. She asked a couple of questions, both answered by the same little girl. Margo is about four, one of three children in a family where both parents are teachers. Needless to say, a lot of learning goes on in her home.
As I listened, it was difficult to hear Margo’s soft, quiet tones as she answered the questions. I listened with the power of intention to grasp what she was saying. My determination was rooted in the expression on the face of the young woman pastor. A look which denoted something profound had been said.
When the pastor turned to the morning’s adult message, the theme was the same. In so doing, she also asked the adults questions.
One of the questions was to think of one thing that stood out in the morning’s Scriptures, the sermon, the hymns. Like an epiphany, I was suddenly struck with the image of Margo and her quiet, tiny voice. And by my need to listen intently to what she said.
I was reminded of how important it is to listen the same way to what God has to say to me in my daily life. By listening to the still, small voice of God enriches my relationship with Him. It will also broaden my understanding of what He expects of me.
The words “and a little child shall lead them” (Isaiah 11:6 NKJV) come to mind. A reminder that even the littlest among us may be wise in ways we don’t understand.
Physical therapy isn’t always a popular topic, especially for those undergoing it. Why did I choose this as a post topic? Because these days, physical therapy is always on my mind. Once a week appointments with my therapist, and a daily exercise regimen between weekly appointments.
I’ve been blessed following this latest surgery to be treated by two of the best therapists I’ve yet to meet. David, my therapist in the rehab center, was one of the most compassionate of my caregivers. And he was a hard worker but always conscious of his patient’s physical well being.
My outpatient therapist, Amy, is equally compassionate and explains everything in lay terms so her patients understand her expectations and helps them set their own expectations. Additionally, Amy has a great sense of humor and makes you comfortable during each session.
The point I’m attempting here is that even though it’s called physical therapy, a lot more goes into its eventual success. Compassion, language, patient comfort and care all go into the perfect recipe for physical therapy.
It takes a unique individual to possess all the qualities above. And if that is the case, you are likely to have greater success and actually look forward to appointments.