I am Enough

When I opened my eyes, Sandie and our two cats, Candie and Lucy, were circling me. A thin layer of smoke had begun drifting through other rooms of the house and there was a strong smell of burnt garlic. Thank goodness the patio door is open. At least the animals could get out if a fire starts. I gently rubbed the back of my head where a large bump had already formed. It was moist and sticky, and the hair was matted from the blood.

To think I laughed at Dave when he placed a phone on a small table under the desk. “In case you fall again. You’ll now have a phone accessible to you,” he said. I wasn't laughing now. Tonight, I was grateful that he thought of such a thing. Cheryl you can do this, I encouraged myself as I flipped onto my stomach with my arms bent at my side, ready for round two. The office door was within limits, and the edge of the desk was now visible.

Inch by inch, I continued squirming my body through the furniture-filled family room. I couldn't bring myself to push anymore. I was out of energy. It was as if someone had pulled the power plug, forcing me to give up five feet from the entryway and office.

My head was throbbing, I felt sick to my stomach, and desperately needed to pee. It was dark out, so I knew it couldn’t be much longer before my youngest daughter Brittany walked through the door, but my bladder was full, and the longer I held it, the more painful it became. “Oh, what the hell,” I muttered before letting it go. My shorts and shirt absorbed the warm urine like it were a sponge. Although the release brought a sense of relief, shame soon followed. Shit! I thought. Brittany isn’t strong enough to pick me up off the floor. She’ll have to call someone. Now I’ll be doubly embarrassed when help arrives.

With the porch light illuminating the entryway, my eyes remained fixed on the front door. For years I had been asking God to bring me home, away from this horrible disease, yet as I waited on the cold tile floor, curled in a fetal position, soaked in urine, shivering, praying for the night to be over, my attitude shifted. I decided not to bargain with God anymore. One, bargaining wasn't working. Two, I knew I should ask for forgiveness in not accepting the gift of life. And three, I knew I should trust his plan for me.

My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes. There has to be a reason for all that has happened. As the tears made their way across my cheek and into the hair line, I felt myself surrendering to sleep, praying, no, begging for some sort of sign as to why I was put through so much in this lifetime. I then promised myself to unravel the events of my life in search of clues that would help me heal.