Today outside our snow-splattered window
I watched an eagle swoop down
toward the ice-covered road.
Then flapping its wings it rose up and up,
and soared over our white barren field.
And I recognized it for the sign that it was:
This winter we will NOT be buried by a blizzard!
Last fall my husband began a series of diagnostic tests
to determine the cause of his various health issues
and the loss of 30 lbs and the deep fatigue.
This all lead up to a crisis when he experienced a critical allergic reaction
to an opioid injection, used with anesthesia, for a crucial biopsy,
and landed him in the acute care hospital unit.
The seizures ended and rehab began, but he continued needing care at home
while his fellow truckers covered his loads
all through the Holiday Season of the year 2019.
Our children and grandchildren, whom we dearly love, overflowed our house
as they came and went, from near and far, from back east and down south,
bringing cheer and love and goodwill to all.
It was like existing in a playground during a storm:
There was the Merry-Go-Round:
round and round we went
to this and that clinic for this and that test-
faster and faster, we clasped hands as we circled
but we were not very merry.
There was the Tilt-a-Whirl:
separate circles dipping up and dipping down,
connected but never really together,
as we separately sped around and around
doing this task and that task non-stop.
There were the Slides:
The short straight slide –
we barely ran out of breath on the climb to the top
but reached the bottom too fast
with an off-kilter plop.
The tall curvy slide –
we pushed and prodded ourselves up the steps to its top
but the curves going down were distorted and bumpy
and we wanted to stop.
The high circular slide that ended in the pool –
we trudged grudgingly up the stairs to one landing, then another,
till we crawled at last onto the top of the tower
and looked longingly down at the smooth surface below.
How awesome it would be to float on that water
and be buoyed up by a force that wasn’t our own
and feel the cool gentle strength below us
and the warm comforting rays around us!
So the eagles come around to remind me of a strength that is not our own
but comes from the everlasting God of Isaiah,
the Creator who never grows weary.
And though we no longer soar on wings like the eagles,
nor do we run and not get weary,
still, we are able to walk and not get weak,
which perhaps takes the most courage of all.
Living in a shadow doesn’t mean it’s dark.
For in the shadow of your wings, Lord, we sing for joy.
This winter we will not be buried by a blizzard.