I hope this is the right place to put this little story. Mods,
move it if I have placed it wrong.
15 years ago...I had some "issues" and ended up with a pretty serious bone infection that gave me a real test of strength.
I was hundreds of miles away from my husband and children, in a hospital...my husband would make the drive across the Cascade Mountains every weekend with 1 or 2 of the kids (at the time my kids were 13, 2 and 1yr old twins).
I am 5'7" and the infection had really taken its toll on my body so I only weighed 87 pounds at that time....I missed my family and friends so bad and was struggling to not give up the fight...I had pictures of everyone I loved, taped to the wall so I could be reminded (hourly) of why I shouldn't just throw in the towel, but honestly, I felt my spirit slipping into a darkness in spite of those pictures.
As I lay in my bed one morning, knowing that I was at the lowest point I had ever experienced in my life, I started thinking about giving up, the nurses could see it and were trying to cheer me up but I just didn't think I could fight the fight any longer....I had gone silent at this point and inside I was quietly telling God that I was sorry, but I just couldn't take 1 more needle, or tube, or bed bath for that matter!....then much to my dislike, a cleaning lady came in...I was annoyed because I just wanted to be alone and silently say my goodbyes...she could see the tears running down my face, but she just kept on cleaning...
By now I was pissed, and I watched her move from one task to the next, finally she was almost finished so I watched her move to the window...I was thankful that she would be done in a minute or two...she put her cleaning cloth on the window and began to rub the glass when my eyes were suddenly drawn to something....my heart started to pound in my chest and I began to panic because what I saw was this perfect little hand print that belonged to one of my babies....she was just inches from wiping it clean when I yelled "Please Stop!"...she turned and looked at me and through my tears I said "see that little hand print? that belongs to my baby....I need that to stay right were it is!"...she turned from the window and left the room.
I realized in that moment just how much I needed to live. ...that tiny hand print saved my life that day.
My babies turned 16 last week and leave their hand prints on my heart every day....I'm so thankful for every moment I have had since that day in the hospital!
I hope this little story helps someone in some small way today
Shaz
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