The Gift of Coming Home

vase of flowers

I am in my own bed.

Sometimes I forget what a beautiful thing that is.

On my bedside table are the flowers picked by my children and my "adopted daughter" (girl who I love because she is lovable... a neighbor's child who makes me laugh and who keeps my own children company). I could see from the bouquet's constitution that there had been a visit to my yard and two other neighbors' yards (one neighbor is in France, and I sincerely hope she will not mind the filching of a rose for my sake).

The rose especially fills my senses.

This is what I missed in the hospital. There, the smells were sickly, like the lingering scent of a room cleaned up after death. It clung to the sheets, so I tried to breathe through my mouth instead. I am overly sensitive to fragrances, so the smells were a special kind of unhappiness for me.

I am okay it seems. My legs hurt impossibly and I can't walk very well— a result of inflammation we never got answers about. My fever is gone and I can almost think again.

I realize I will probably never catch up with all the kind people who have left (and may still leave) comments on my blogs over the past week and a half. It's too much. I will have to let it go and hope that people understand.

While I was in a rented bed, I forgot to be afraid. I feel like that was some kind of mistake on my part. Instead, I lay listening to French music and dreaming of dancers. I talked on the phone to a few friends who made me laugh.

And I counted the hours until I could come home.

Bouquet near Hospital Bracelet photo, by L.L. Barkat.



Anonymous HisFireFly said...

Best to forget to be afraid.. that's His peace!

Welcome back to the blessings of home and the scent of familiar.

Blogger Kelly Sauer said...

I did not know. Oh Laura. I am glad you are home now.

And I am glad the fear did not rule you there. I know about that in hospitals.

Blogger Maureen said...

I'm glad, too, that you're back home. May you have a speedy and complete recovery.

Blogger S. Susan Deborah said...

Welcome home dear Laura. I loved this post as you started talking about the home and then led us to your hospital-stay. Glad that the restorative powers of home can be experienced by you!

By his stripes, we are healed. A speedy recovery!

Joy and good health,

Blogger Faith Hope and Cherrytea said...

home and with flowers !
need i say more ? ...
be blessed ~

Anonymous Monica Sharman said...

Glad you're back in your own familiar bed. And in your own home where (I assume) you keep a stash of those thin Lindts.
What does this mean for your dancing?

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Blessings to you LL, on this day... take care, and hold strong in heart, my prayers and thoughts are with you...

Blogger Llama Momma said...

So glad you're home. Praying for continued healing...

Hospitals stink.

Blogger Erin said...

Wha??? Boy, I sure missed a lot.

Glad you are home tonight, glad you didn't realize to be afraid, glad you are constantly held in His hand.

Blogger Connie said...

Praying for The Healer to continue His Work...GOD's Peace...

Blogger Kath said...

There's no place like home. Especially one with children, flowers, love and the one returned...

Blogger Joelle said...

Rented bed. I like that. Not that you had to be in one. But the new way you made me think. Be well, L.L.

Blogger Unknown said...

God breathes such a sweet breath of peace into us sometimes, doesn't he? When it takes someone else to let us know there might have been the scent of fear, then we know even more the beauty of that rest, and the gladness it is to notice in a new way how much bigger and more beautiful it is than we know.

Blogger S. Etole said...

I didn't realize you had been so ill ... having spent much time in hospitals I understand that "ahhhh" of being in your own home and bed again. Blessings of peace and healing for you.


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