
4/24/2026
"...whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow.
For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away."
James 4:14
For years I have kept a separate daily journal listing what I am thankful for each day, including calls I make and calls received from friends and family members who suddenly remembered that I live across the country or who'd stumbled over an old letter I'd written them that had been misplaced. It's always a thrill for me when someone remembers me, even as just a passing thought. I got an unexpected call from a friend saying she'd been to the Chile Cook Off in New Mexico, a regular annual benefit for the soup kitchen, and missed me. Three of us got together regularly for this event, judging the chili, or to eat or attend special events. I miss my friends and the things we used to do.
I began keeping the daily list at the end of 2016. That's the year that the world turned upside down for me, but then I've had many such things happen throughout my life like that, but I'm still smiling. I wanted to put things down daily that I was grateful for, as a way to say "Thank You, Abba." I don't always show gratitude, but I want to do better. Plus I wanted to write down positive things that happened, because the world was getting so crazy. I needed to see something good. The top of each page looks like this:
"Show me Something Good"
"Show me a sign for good that those who hate me may see it and be ashamed,
Psalm 86:17
I remember on Good Friday that year that, in my haste to get ready for work, I tripped and in an effort to keep from retrieving one more blow to my head, I reached out my arm to keep my head from hitting the corner of the door frame. That's when I heard a crack. All I remember is that it was extremely painful, so I laid down in the floor, and pulled my arm over my head to pop the shoulder back into place, thus relieving a little of the discomfort. I didn't see any bones sticking out or any bleeding out. There was a rather large patch of blood pooling under the skin, but I figured it was just going to bruise, so I finished getting dressed, with great difficulty, and I made my way across the house to my office. Trying to type and maintain my focus was difficult with all the pain, but I managed.
Eventually I had to go to the doctor, because I had a four - to - six inch long by three inch wide area of under the skin bleeding that was not improving. Since doctors aren't allowed to do MRI's without a real good reason, my diagnosis went unnoticed until I had been tortured by a physical therapist who finally realized after several weeks... "You're not getting any better, are you?"As it turned out I had chipped off some shoulder bone, and I had mangled some ligaments and stuff in the arm. The surgeon felt that I would eventually need surgery, but I told him that God would fix me. He didn't believe me, but eventually after having the care of a specialized physical therapist, I improved, and I never needed surgery.
This was also the year that one of my case management client's son tripped and fell slamming his head into mine, injuring my head, jaw, and neck. I didn't want a workman's comp case, but I managed to get one that wasn't settled until 2018, but the medical insurance remains open in case I need care. Since then I've had the noise in my head that I speak of often as bugs or woodsy night sounds, and I have pain that shoots through my temple into my eye. That's an additional pain to accompany the one from 1980 when I was attacked and hit with a 2x4 one night when someone came out from hiding behind my wood pile. That blow to the head was on the same side except on the top of my head, so the pain shoots down into the same eye. No one seems to be interested in that, plus my neurologist died from his own neurological issues and a broken heart from not being allowed to treat his patients. There are actually doctors who sincerely care about their patients, but insurance hinders their treatment. That's another topic to discuss at a later time.
I have an aunt who is about ten years my senior. She recently celebrated her 86th birthday, and she said that she celebrated all week. I had shared with her about my 2007 Mercury Milan that I bought when I lost my 2017 Nissan Sentra in a recent accident, and she said she'd sold her car. It's hard for me to believe that she's already feeling that she's at an age where she no longer wants to drive, but then, I understand, especially since that man ran my son off the road without stopping to see if he was okay. At least she enjoyed her birthday. I used to celebrate my birthday for a week, shut down everything, toss the cell phone away, totally enjoying my time. Whenever I needed a break or just wanted to smell fresh mountain air, at a higher elevation than I lived, I'd make the trip through the pass to Taos and on to Sipapu Resort where I'd disappear for a few days. I miss those days, but I am grateful for the experience.
As my 76th birthday nears I have been thinking about things I need to do, just in case, and I also want to finish some things I've started. I don't know why, but as much as I love traveling, I don't have a desire to drive. Maybe my son's accident shook me up too much. He turns 50 on Monday, and he's already saying the same thing. He wants to go to New Mexico to see his kids, and I wish we could go together, but we have cats. If we drove we could take them along, but that may be a bit much for some family. But we'll figure it out. If for no other reason, since returning here to Virginia, I am seeing that life is shorter than we think, so it's important to tell the people you love that you love them, before one of us pass on. Relationships are so important, but many times, most times sadly, they are one-sided. I've discovered that. Everyone is busy, and life just isn't the same as it was when I was growing up, when the extended family was a tightly knit. How I miss those days. I guess I really haven't progressed as much as some of my cousins or friends, as I wouldn't even have a cell phone or computer if I didn't need one. But now everything is expected to be handled digitally. Sometimes I think progress is not really such a big deal. Physical contact is a more rewarding experience, even if people are still wearing masks. I don't get it, but I guess it's fear that keeps them from being free, breathing air.
Tomorrow is another day, so maybe I'll reach out to someone, even if I only get a voice message. Gotta start some where!
