Hope For A New Normal

I turned the nozzle on the garden hose, adjusted the setting, sprayed cool water, showering my lavender plant with liquid mana. After a week of heat, blazing sun and air conditioner usage causing intermittent power outages, watering the garden felt  luxurious. I started to move on to the hydrangea, yanked on the hose and that is when I spotted it. Almost hidden amongst those green stems, purple flowers and hovering bees. Forgetting I had placed it there, I studied the missive, wondered at how often I had turned my back on this visual, this virtual reminder that I am not the one in charge.

That when grandson's fever spiked high day after day and daughter slept in short shifts; when doctor scratched his head and Grandma wrung her hands, worry thoughts roaming free like tiny bandits on the loose. Prayers fired off to heaven above, flaming arrows of hope, and in the end with his help, it's always going to be OK.

That when beloved dog passes out, right in front of husband's alarmed eyes,and his furry body stills for two minutes, breathing naked air, yet he wakes and shakes it all off like a bath in the salty sea. Always, always, it will be all right.

That when the vet says this is serious, I watched him listening intently with that stethoscope pressed against dog's side, and he moves it around, I forgot to breathe. The diagnosis he gave, it caused alarm and new medicine and instructions gave voice to the true age of our precious animal. "He will most likely have a new normal," the vet predicted. And I wondered all week, what is normal? Is this fear of mine normal?When I forget to bend the knee, take the crisis and mold it into my own trembling hands, is that normal?  Or casting my eyes any where but on the One who knows it all anyway? 

I don't know how much longer our dog will live, days, months or years. If my grandson takes ill or the heat blasts through the city, I pray for restful breaths, trusting, seeking eyes. And if I forget to release, and the mind spins crazy wild I know the One holds it all anyway, he has it all under control, even when I forget. And maybe just maybe, with practice and abundant grace, I will awake one beautiful morning, stretch out these aging arms, whisper to the invisible with awestruck wonder, thank you for helping me wake up to this liberating new Normal. 

Far be it to me to not believe, even when my eyes can't see

And this mountain that's  in front of me
Will be thrown into the midst of the sea