Transition

Who would have thought that transitioning back to home after a long hospital stay would be an adventure? Not me. I figured it would be like any other time I had spent away from home, a natural, instinctual rhythm. Nah. Something changes in your brain when you experience "living" in a hospital. Day in and out of traversing strangers that seem to multiply or change "shifts" just when you develop a pattern causes a structuring level in your brain kind of like being a stocker in a grocery store. You are putting the same product up but different faces surround you tugging at your attention to answer questions, meet demands, or simply flutter around you poking at your private space. Private space. That's a good one. I can't tell you how many people have now seen me naked. Door knocking or checking before entering is not a thing. I was reminded as I was consulting with a supervising nurse that my concerns were legitimate as I relayed how people just barged in or duties were left undone. She stated matter of fact that our room was now our home and that anyone entering should be as respectful as if they were in my home. They should pick up after themselves, clean up the toilet area and speak with respect as they addressed us. Don't get me wrong, most of the people did most of these things at least some of the time, but some made our stay incredibly challenging. I say this to help my brain process the quirky adaption that is happening today as I am in my  6th day of home experience. The first day, I woke in my own bed, got up to go to my own bathroom and froze midway, fear piercing my heart because I didn't know where my mask was. In the hospital, I only went without the mask when I slept or showered. It was surreal and a bit terrifying to get up and walk to the bathroom without my face being covered. Of course, I joked about this later but the feelings like this are daily. Getting up to take care of me is not my main focus. I wake to clean every surface before my Bear wakes and touches anything. I need to make sure his area is ready for his day to begin. Alarms are going off regularly to ensure that meds are taken on time, and food gets administered to aid in the healing that miraculously is happening so much faster without the tubes, IV trolley, or "sterile" smelling environment. I started to depend on these strangers for the much needed direction and care, thinking that they knew best and the hospital was the best place for my love to heal. That is partly true. These experts were giving the care that only they knew how to administer and the hospital setting was necessary for a time to get the scaffolding in place for when we left the nest. It really does feel like taking a dive out of a nest. You doubt that you will know what to do, or how to do it correctly. You even worry that the house you feel the safest will be a danger. Then you come home and you watch your patient start to flourish. They are sleeping through the night, eating food that comforts, and feeling the souls of the family they have missed wrapping them in the spirit that only home can offer. They are back in fertile soil, and their bodies recognize where they grow best. My mind has often wondered if this is what it will be like when we pass through the veil and return to our heavenly home. Will I fall into the over stuffed couches and feel my shoulders release the burdens from my long stay away? Will I smell the familiar scents of foods I love and surroundings that give me peace? Will my recognition of those beautiful souls I've been waiting to embrace clear my troubled mind and fill my heart with the much needed love and support? I say yes. I know the answer is yes. I'm grateful that Josh and I have created a home that emits the love that our family needs and thrives off. I love that people who cross our threshold tell us they feel an inviting and warm spirit in our home. We do too. I'm confident this will be what I feel when I return to my maker. This warm invitation will be the same. Going home to the soft place I can land, the protection from the world, the peace of love and wholeness. No fear, no anxiety just the place I know. The place I flourish. The heaven I call home.