Monday, January 25, 2010

Hospitals....

Ehhhhh....just typing that word makes my stomach flip. I'm good on the first floor. The first floor looks like a hotel lobby complete with gift shop, cafe, concierge, and marble floors. Why can't the rest of the floors look like the first? Once I step on that elevator all bets are off. My stomach gets queasy, I start getting fidigety, the dizzyness starts, and that's all before the elevator arrives at it's final destination. As I step off it hits me. That hospital smell. That distinct, yet unidentifiable scent. I've decided it's a combination of hospital sanitizer, food, and sick people. Gross.

It's safe to assume I try to steer clear from hospitals at all costs. And it's to the benefit of everyone involved that I do. I remember visiting a friend of my mothers in the hospital when I was in grade school. I walked in her room and promptly passed out. Hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. I broke my middle finger when I was 5 or 6 and screamed harder when I was told we needed to go to the hospital than when I broke the finger. The screaming worked because 2 popcicle sticks and some tape served as my permanent cast.

Inevitably the occasion arises in which I must set foot in the dreaded hospital. One such occasion occourred this weekend, and quite a joyous occasion at that. Luckily I handled myself quite well this go 'round! My sister-in-law gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy. Heading into the hospital I was so excited to see baby Graham and I began to think of how joyfully sad hospitals really are. Here I was skipping through the halls of the baby floor, passing several couples with their new bundles of joy who were preparing to head home, the nurses on the baby floor are so chipper and perky, this floor even smelled less hospitalish. At the same time I'm meeting this new life, thanking and in awe of God for this little miracle, there are people on floors above and below who are saying goodbye to loved ones, or being told their lives may be cut short, some people are questioning God and cursing God. Tears of joy being shed on one floor as a life is born or saved and tears of sadness, and dispair on another as a life comes to an end or a is threatened by illness. All happening simulatneously within mere feet of one another. Wierd.

I definately walked out of the hospital a little different than I came in. I walked out a little more thankful for my health, & my family's health,  and a lot more aware of how I am given this 1 body that is to last me my entire time on this earth and that how I treat it and what I choose to put into it really does matter... now and later. One of my prayers for baby Graham is that he would grow to be a strong healthy man both spiritually & physically, and that he would treat the 1 body he's been given as a temple.

Of course I can't sign off without showing everyone the little guy.....





With his big brother Jack!







Cheers!

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