On Wednesday night, after being home from the hospital for a while, my older daughter Mariel called me from Equador to see how the surgery went. Her group (she's there with Global Works) was on its way to dig irrigation ditches in the countryside, and the bus stopped at a gas station to re-fuel. I was so touched that she remembered that my operation was on that day. I don't think that I, at 17, would have remembered my mom having an operation. "She loves me," I thought, feeling blessed to have such a caring daughter. I gave thanks to her goodness, as well as compassion to my mom, who I have so often let fall out of my peripheral vision.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment