Functional
Earlier today, Mom and Dad were going through electronic "things" that weren't working or being used, deciding what to throw out. They got to an old TV remote where the number one doesn't work anymore (unless you press pretty hard and Mom can't really do that).
They were pulling out the batteries from a hand held solitaire game Dad got for Christmas. The graphics are pretty small so Dad can't see them. Mom seemed to enjoy pushing the buttons that made noise.
She was taking the batteries out of the solitaire game when Dad told her not to throw it out because he might be able to see it after his surgery. He told her not to throw out the game because it was functional, not broken.
Then he said it. "I'm the one that's broken."
I was crushed. I almost cried when he said it. I had to leave the room.
As inevitable as it is to get old, it just sucks as it happens. Dad's done what he can to get by but he is broken right now. I doubt he even sees himself as functional. He’s spent his life as a photographer, skier, mountain climber, explorer, canoeist, etc. The loss of even half his sight has been devastating. For him to be on the possible verge of losing his remaining sight has to harsh.
I hope he understands his eyesight isn't what makes him the man he is today. It’s been his willingness to be available to anyone who needs a hand, to help those that need help, and to go beyond what's needed that has created the character he carries today. He has been willing to be used by God to help those around him.
I hope he understands too, the surgery tomorrow could fix what's physically "broken". Unless he lets the healer do the work needed, nothing can get "fixed".
With this healer tomorrow, there is also no guarantee of success. They are hopeful, and very positive, but there is no guarantee. Without the surgery, he will go blind. With the surgery, there is a great chance of recovery and regaining the sight in at least one eye.
It will be devastating for him if he loses his eyesight. He's had an amazing life based on what he could see. I just don't want him to see himself as simply "functional". He still has so much to offer, it’s just a matter of rearranging how he contributes.
We're all pretty functional in a lot of ways. Nowhere near what we once were, nowhere near what we should be. Functional. We get by. We do what we can. But we're not living up to our designed potential.
Not until we're willing to let the Ultimate Healer do the surgery that needs to be done do we have hope of being what we truly were created to become. Even with the problems and scars that remain from our being "functional", the needed surgery is a far better thing than thinking and relegating ourselves to just being "functional".
It reminds me we're all functional but we need to be broken in order to be repaired, given new life, put back together, made complete. I need to be broken a lot more than I am. Sure I'm functional; I can get by, most my parts work. It’s just not until I am really broken internally and willing to be dependent on God to repair me that I have any hope of being whole again.
This one's for you, Dad. You may never read it, but my thoughts and prayers are with you and Mom as we all deal with this surgery tomorrow. Even through your "brokenness", you help me realize what I really need to be whole. I love you.
They were pulling out the batteries from a hand held solitaire game Dad got for Christmas. The graphics are pretty small so Dad can't see them. Mom seemed to enjoy pushing the buttons that made noise.
She was taking the batteries out of the solitaire game when Dad told her not to throw it out because he might be able to see it after his surgery. He told her not to throw out the game because it was functional, not broken.
Then he said it. "I'm the one that's broken."
I was crushed. I almost cried when he said it. I had to leave the room.
As inevitable as it is to get old, it just sucks as it happens. Dad's done what he can to get by but he is broken right now. I doubt he even sees himself as functional. He’s spent his life as a photographer, skier, mountain climber, explorer, canoeist, etc. The loss of even half his sight has been devastating. For him to be on the possible verge of losing his remaining sight has to harsh.
I hope he understands his eyesight isn't what makes him the man he is today. It’s been his willingness to be available to anyone who needs a hand, to help those that need help, and to go beyond what's needed that has created the character he carries today. He has been willing to be used by God to help those around him.
I hope he understands too, the surgery tomorrow could fix what's physically "broken". Unless he lets the healer do the work needed, nothing can get "fixed".
With this healer tomorrow, there is also no guarantee of success. They are hopeful, and very positive, but there is no guarantee. Without the surgery, he will go blind. With the surgery, there is a great chance of recovery and regaining the sight in at least one eye.
It will be devastating for him if he loses his eyesight. He's had an amazing life based on what he could see. I just don't want him to see himself as simply "functional". He still has so much to offer, it’s just a matter of rearranging how he contributes.
We're all pretty functional in a lot of ways. Nowhere near what we once were, nowhere near what we should be. Functional. We get by. We do what we can. But we're not living up to our designed potential.
Not until we're willing to let the Ultimate Healer do the surgery that needs to be done do we have hope of being what we truly were created to become. Even with the problems and scars that remain from our being "functional", the needed surgery is a far better thing than thinking and relegating ourselves to just being "functional".
It reminds me we're all functional but we need to be broken in order to be repaired, given new life, put back together, made complete. I need to be broken a lot more than I am. Sure I'm functional; I can get by, most my parts work. It’s just not until I am really broken internally and willing to be dependent on God to repair me that I have any hope of being whole again.
This one's for you, Dad. You may never read it, but my thoughts and prayers are with you and Mom as we all deal with this surgery tomorrow. Even through your "brokenness", you help me realize what I really need to be whole. I love you.
Comments
What is the latest on Grandpa Palmer? I don't get home a lot so I am kinda out of the loop. I just remade my blog under a different name and with a co-author and I rediscovered your blog. Check us out and I'll return to my regularlly scheduled commenting.