Listening to every heart
A few decades back, my father seriously injured his arm where they thought the only thing they could do was amputate. They told my mother this, and she said no, he would never allow that. She instructed THEM not to tell my father, and once he was past the danger of gangrene setting in, told mother that the best they could do was set his arm so that it was "out of the way". Not straight down, but semi-crooked as if the hand were about to buckle his belt, if you get the picture.
Dad doesn't know he will never use his arm again. But Mom does. Having his left arm in a sling didn't stop my dad for long. He chopped wood, laid linoleum, put up a small cabinet, and did a myriad of other chores and tasks while "recuperating". Only now and then would he ask for a little help. With his right hand, he would massage his left fingers [he was still in a cast] night and day. As if "willing" some sensation into them. At night, in his recliner, we could watch as he concentrated on moving his lifeless fingers.
One Saturday morning he and I were up, early. He said, "watch" and I did, as the little finger on his left hand seemed to move. He told me to get mother, and I did, trying to explain to her that he was making it move, and she knew it could be nothing more than an absent jerk, or simply our imaginations. [Dad had a great imagination!]
BUT...for mother, he forced the little finger up and down on command. He was sweating buckets, but he did it. Mom was in tears. But she still did not tell him that he would never have full use of his hand or arm again. Instead, she went out and got him some silly putty.
Dad only learned that they were going to amputate on the day the cast was removed, and the doctor was about to tell him about his "lifeless arm". That was the day Dad took that "lifeless arm", picked the doctor's hand up, shook it, and then reached into his back pocket to pull out a $10.00 bill to add to the payment that they had been making to the doctor's statement. I don't know who cried harder that morning...the doctor, Dad, or Mom.
And I'm praying that you will continue to believe in Miracles, too.
Love you. K