Scrubs

Does what you do define who you are? Before I give you my answer I have a few stories to tell. Last week I went to Eli's school for grandparents breakfast. While we were standing in the long line of other grandparents and sweet little kiddos I happen to notice that most of the lunchroom ladies had on their Alabama hounds-tooth uniforms. What should have went through my mind was Roll Tide! Oh no, what I thought was “whew, sure am glad I didn’t wear mine today”. Now, another story... on our way to the beach last year we left right after work so Kerrie and I both had our work clothes on. After getting to Orange Beach we decided to run into a store and grab a few things before checking in. We take our items to the front to pay and the guy ask if we work at one of the hotels. Kerrie tells him no, we are in the medical field and just came there from work. Now, back to my question. What I do does not define who I am. Why then, was I so quick to want these people to know I was not a lunchroom worker or a hotel maid? Does working in a medical practice make me a better person? No, it doesn’t! I am the same person regardless of where I work, what kind of car I drive, what type clothes I have or where I live. Before we label someone we need to stop and think. Am I less a person because I'm not a doctor, or drive a new car, or live in a big fine home?  I pray my human pea size brain will be second to my heart the next time I see someone in scrubs so that my thought goes past what they do for a living and more on them as a person!

Signs

Just a few weeks ago I was beside my Daddy when he took his last breath of life. He was 77 years old. Letting go is never an easy thing to do. I have to be honest and say it helps when you really lost them years before God calls them to their forever home. My grandma left me the same way as my Dad. She had Alzheimer's and he had Dementia. You just watch while life as they once knew just disappears. Day by day, moment by moment. Both once full of so much life! Never would they have wanted to spend their last years in a hospital bed having to be cared for like a baby. My Mother was the angel that cared for both of them. Giving up her life to take care of them. Never complaining! She took care of them at home so that she knew they were being treated well, cleaned, feed, and most of all loved. Knowing they were free from those beds and so full of life again in the arms of our Heavenly Father made it easier to let them go. Still, for some reason I have been feeling “flat”. I have questioned myself coming up empty with answers. I loved my Daddy, and I have no doubt he loved me. He loved his grandchildren and spent every second he could with them. He loved his great grandchildren. I took them to visit every weekend. Even after he stop talking he would laugh at Eli acting silly for him. I have no regrets, I said all that needed to be said and did everything I could to help my Mom take care of him. Yesterday, when I got home I believe my “sign” was waiting on me. There on the door handle of the house was the most beautiful butterfly with the prettiest shades of blue on it's wings I have ever seen. It flew off and then back around. In that moment, all I could think of was my Daddy's pretty blue eyes and how free he was now, just like that butterfly. I think that little butterfly was God's most precious way of speaking to me. Telling me that it's okay to let go, that he has my Daddy with him and he is now free from any pain and sorrow. For me, I choose to believe in signs!