Jen generously offered to write this week’s post. Since I’m vacationing up at the Barnes – St. Peters Hospital’s ICU with pneumonia, I took her up on her offer –

Well, I can’t just sit by and let Jim have all the fun of writing this blog. So I asked if I could have a ‘spot’ and he agreed. My initial thought was to share with you (or maybe just confirm) that Jim has not changed. The Jim we all knew and loved before his stroke is the same – his heart and personality have not changed. I’m so thankful for that. Right after his stroke, I made a “deal” with God (and I’m sure He loves that – all of the “deals” I try to make with Him) that if He would allow Jim to be the same on the inside, I would do my best to deal with the other stuff. He must have agreed because that’s what we have today. In seven years since his stroke, Jim has not missed a Christmas, anniversary or birthday without typing a card for me. It beats anything he could pick out at Hallmark, no doubt. And sometimes, I get gifts either from Amazon or he asks his sister for help in getting something and dropping it off. And I can’t count how many times a day Jim thanks me.

Jim and I are very blessed and I don’t ever discount that. I find that if I focus on the blessings, there is very little time to think about what’s wrong or isn’t going “just right”. Don’t get me wrong, we have challenges and things come up that throw a wrench in an already crazy day – but I have learned that the more I try to question or fight them, the worse it is. I’ve also learned that God meets our needs – not necessarily our wants – in His time. Perfect example is the suctioning thing Jim wrote about. I prayed and prayed for 4+ years for a way to help him cough. I had no idea the answer would come in ICU with him fighting a serious case of pneumonia but it did. Need met. I love reading signs and billboards (while trying to drive) and I saw a church sign that read ‘God promises a safe landing, not a smooth ride’. It made me smile.

Before the stroke, I had heard people who had gone through traumatic situations say that they were better off than before because of the people they had met and the lessons they had learned. I thought that was absurd. ‘How could you be better off by going through that awful period in your life?’ I would think. Well, I’m living that now. There are people we would have never, ever met had it not been for Jim’s stroke. And I’m not just talking about medical personnel. We’ll be friends with some of these people forever, even if Jim recovered 100% today. And I won’t even bore you with some of the lessons learned. But I do try to be more open-minded when I hear people say those absurd things now!

I read something online once that really resonated with me. Jim and I were married just shy of 4 years when he had his stroke. I still felt like we were newlyweds because time just goes so fast. Of course there were many things we had dreamed about and planned for. Our lives took a totally different turn in a matter of seconds and now we’re on a different path. Not a bad one, just a different one. So I think that’s why this really hit home. It was written for people who have babies with special needs but it’s been changed to fit our situation:

“Welcome to Holland”
When you’re planning your life together, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You make your wonderful plans – The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.
You go to the airport, board the plane and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes on and says, “Welcome to Holland.”
“Holland?!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.”
But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around…. and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills….and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy… and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away… because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.
But… if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things … about Holland.
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I’ll close with a (not so) short list of things I’m thankful for:

For letting Jim survive a stroke, and allowing him to be the same on the inside.

For two families who never question why we’re late or can’t make it or just lets us be. And for all of the help they continue to give us.

For health insurance.

For a wonderful employer.

For flexibility.

For a wonderful Mom who taught me things early in life that help me today.

For Jim’s ability to use a computer, sit upright in a wheelchair and live at home.

For chocolate milkshakes from Oberweiss.

For loving me when I’m crabby at 2am and 4am and just whenever.

For forgiving me of my shortcomings (and there are many).

For growing my faith and teaching me what I need to know instead of what I want to know.

For wonderful friends that I don’t deserve – when way too much time passes between my emails or calls but yet yours still end with ‘love you dear friend’. And for the food and visits.

For meeting our needs and sometimes our wants.

For a Bible study group who comes to our house, every week, regardless of how hard it’s raining or how cold it is outside, just to accommodate us. These weekly meetings recharge my batteries in a way I can’t describe.

For doctors who advocate for us, who answer emails in less than 24 hours, who call out meds without making us come in.

For praying for us and taking this journey with us; most of you have for 7 years.

For listening.