Monday, April 23, 2007
In the mornings we would sit in her sunroom and drink tea while watching the birds and squirrels come to the feeders. We would talk. I would try to capture photos of the action. It was a pleasant time.
When I was eight, my mother died from cancer. My sister, who was 20 years old and pregnant with her first child, took care of me for a while. Ever after, even when my father remarried, my sister was my mother. She took care of me when I was sick, she had me to her house for Christmas and holidays, she and her husband invited me to move in to their basement the last year of college when I was almost out of money, so I could graduate. We were as close as two people could be. She was my mother. At least psychologically.
This morning my sister went to the hopital to have a meningioma (benign tumor) removed from behind her eye. There were concerns about damaging the arteries and the optic nerves. People all over the world, Catholic and Protestant, were praying for her.
After seven hours of surgery, the doctor informed her family that every thing went well.
I am so grateful!
Thank you, Lord!