02/28/2021
"I throw open my arms, “Good morning, Linds!”   Â
She jumps and claps and makes her happy noise.
“We gotta get dressed, Linds. Time to get up. C’mon, let’s go!”
We have something of a routine so I can get by most mornings without getting bit or headbutted. At other times I receive what feels like a teenager’s cold shoulder and an “I’m-not-ready-to-get-up-yet” resistant side-eye glance.Â
My favorite mornings are when she is up on her knees bouncing on the bed and giggling like life depends on us being happy...
In the same way I trust each morning that the sun will reappear, I also trust that Lindsay will open her eyes. And I know by experience that when she does awake, she changes the world around her.Â
I have no doubt that each morning she hears God’s spirit telling her, “Little girl, get up” and like Jairus’ sleeping daughter, mine awakes as well. Then, as if I would forget Jesus’ practical advice, “Give her something to eat,” Lindsay reminds me by rapidly tapping her chest insistently, her combined hungry and thirsty signs.Â
“Okay, Linds, lets get something to eat.”
Her life support is no longer the tubes and wires and monitors that at times have kept her safe and secure. Her life support each morning is the sunshine poking through one of her windows, the birds chirping and squirrels skittering outside, the echo of cars passing by and kids waiting at the corner for the school bus.Â
Mountains be ready to be moved, she is awake again.
Lindsay still has no words but she is not voiceless because she also still has a presence that speaks volumes. Lindsay reminds me daily how precious it is to simply be in this world, to be a reflection of the One who creates us in the image, to be, to exist just as God exists." (Lindsay's Gift, James F. McIntire)