I take pictures of everything. Pictures are a snapshot of a single moment in time and every one tells a story. Looking back through them is often how a blog of mine is born. It is also therapy of sorts for me. And it tends to make me a more grateful person.
Tonight, I came across a screenshot that I took of a text message from Preston. That single snapshot brought me to my knees and tears to my eyes. I’ve really been struggling this past week. A lot of negative things have been happening in my life, coupled with the fact that Preston is going through a bout of depression. I can handle most things by pulling up my big girl panties and forging ahead. But you throw my Preston in there, and mix it with a brain injury, sprinkle it with some depression, add a little OCD, and layer it with emotional issues and I’m ready to reserve a room for me on the psychiatric floor. One minute he’s Mr. Cool, calm, and collect. The next minute sees him angry at something as simple as the dish detergent out of place. The next minute, the tears flow as he apologizes. One minute I’m in tears, the next minute I’m trying to placate and cure him. It’s like a CD player stuck on “repeat”.
No neurologist can ever prepare me for the tricks Preston’s brain plays on him. As I’ve shared before, Preston is on some heavy duty meds that do make episodes like this week far and few in between. When life is good, it’s great. When it’s bad, it’s ugly.
For me, it can get overwhelming.
But then God steps in and reminds me of His amazing power through that snapshot. And the next one. And the next one.
The snapshot is a picture that of a text message that Preston sent me while he was in rehabilation hospital. It simply reads “I love you, Sunshine”. What’s so special about that? Preston was in his 3rd month of being hospitalized….. about 2 weeks into the rehab center. He had just recently learned how to swallow and eat food again. He couldn’t stand up, he couldn’t walk, he didn’t know what day of the week it was or remember the names of some of his closest friends that would come to see him. I had tried to show him how to use the room phone, to no avail. He couldn’t do it. It would ring and he would hold it upside down and be clueless on how to stop that noise. One day, I gave him his cell phone and successful taught him how to swipe through his pictures and try to remember anyone. He wanted to keep his phone with him that night. I assumed it was to keep looking at his pictures. I left and went home. Shortly after arriving home, my phone pinged. Out of no where, something clicked in his brain, he remembered my pet name and figured out how to send me that text. What’s so special about this text is that even now, 2 years later, Preston normally has to be prompted to initiate a phone call or a text. God gave me that special gift of encouragement that one night.
And again tonight. In reminding me of just who is in control and how far He has brought my sweet Preston. Yes, the struggles are there. But we are to take up our crosses and bear our burdens. Quitting isn’t an option.
Nor is buying that one way train ticket to 8th floor psychiatric ward.
Tonight, I’m thankful for these snapshots and for the reminder of just how great my husband and our Lord and Savior are.
Until next time,