When Dad was cutting the hedge on Friday, he fell. Got his foot caught in the handle of the bag and went flying. Not badly hurt, but bruised and battered and a bit shaken. Mind you, he was too stubborn to let it stop him finishing the hedge!
Why was it a mixed blessing? Well, last night he was afraid to get in the bath in case he couldn’t get out, so he asked me to wait for a phone call. It broke a barrier that I had seen no way round. I went and helped him get dry, massaged his stiff shoulders and neck, and helped him dress. I also managed to persuade him that it’s time he gives up trying to cook Sunday lunch for us all. The down side of this is, of course, that I have to do it at teatime. Drat – hmmm…… how I love cooking! And the potatoes all need de-sprouting, too, before I begin.
Church was wonderful today. And the theme of the service was so appropriate to the last week that it could have been written specifically for me. Simultaneously scary and reassuring. The last hymn was my undoing, though, as it was mum’s favourite and I love it. How can I help but let the tears flow when I sing “I trace the rainbow through the rain, and know the promise is not vain, that morn shall tearless be”?
Now, I wonder what to do about these lovely pink shirts!