We
had a lovely Sabbath. The rain ended overnight and we were able to go to
synagogue this morning. Friends joined us for lunch, and we had a lively and
enjoyable time with them.
Our
first daughter, Simmie, was born 12 weeks prematurely. After spending those
months in the neonatal intensive care unit surrounded by sick and premature
infants, the idea of a healthy full-term pregnancy seemed nothing less than a
miracle to me. There is a part of me that has never lost the feelings of awe
and wonder at a nine month gestation followed by the birth of a healthy child.
This
morning I realized that I am having a similar experience at the other end of
the spectrum. Barry was pushing me in my wheel chair, and along the way we ran
into a couple we know walking to synagogue, fellow members who are quite a bit
older than we are. She told us that she had hip replacement surgery about a
year ago. I was left with that familiar feeling of how little we tend to
recognize and appreciate the everyday miracles in our lives. These days, whenever
I see anyone older than I am who is healthy and functioning well and able to
get around on their own, I am simply amazed. And perhaps we should all be.
Tomorrow
is supposed to be a nice day, so we hope to spend some time outdoors. The
Botanical Garden opens early for members, so we thought we might pop over for a
quick visit before we have various errands to run. We are also hoping to work
in a movie tomorrow. So I will have plenty to write in my next post!
Love,
Rebecca
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