December 7, 1941. The mention of that date is sufficient. I was not yet born, but I have seen the film and photo footage. I have listened to the stories. I have seen the documentaries. I have heard my parents and grandparents talk about it. That date changed this country.
Yesterday was 12/7/16, 75 years after that “infamous” day. The weather was sunny and seasonally cool. I drove my new, ol’ truck, an ’06 Nissan Frontier, to and from the homeplace, for the first time, since my ‘ol ’95 Nissan truck died, and I almost did, when chicklet failed to yield to my right of way, on 3/29/16. That date changed my life, at least for these several months.
Yes, I have improved. I can walk well enough, and I can drive. I am not yet able to hike up a mountain. On 12/5/16, I was medically “released” to return to work, on 12/19/16. I will work two weeks parttime; afterward, I will be back to fulltime.
Yay, rah. Ho hum. Okay. I am still alive, and I have recovered well enough to drive and to return to work. Don’t get me wrong. I am glad that I am out and about, going toward a normal, active life. I can see a finish line up ahead. The end of the marathon is in sight.
What’s wrong? The prolonged and ongoing recovery has been and is just a gritty process. It’s the reality of life. At least, I am going forward. (My stubborn, strong will has helped in this.) The deeper purpose in life is still missing. Yes, I will be a good husband, brother, uncle, and in-law. I will be a good neighbor. I will be a good coworker. Is there anything else? Pause. . . Wait. . . Oh well, we’ll see. In my last post, I asked God: “Could you not open a door of complete physical healing and another door of opportunity to serve you, as I once did before you took Mom home? I await your reply and/or action -- as I have been doing since 2000, I do now still.” The long physical healing process, still ongoing, sees a finish line. What about the “door of opportunity?” We will see. Until then, I go back to being a bureaucrat in eleven more days.
To those, if any, reading, I wish you and yours a Merry Christmas. Maybe, I will take my longsuffering wife with me to hunt a tree on Saturday, if I am physically up to it.