Perspective II

I'm writing this from the waiting room of the Providence Sacred Heart Medical Center & Children's Hospital, while we wait for Gia Pearl to be done with her MRI. Gia is one of the bravest people I have ever known, but no matter how child focused a hospital is, they are still stressful, scary places to be, especially for a little one that is undergoing many life changes and transitions. Gia the Brave.

I recently wrote about perspective after we went out to dinner and met one of the most friendly and helpful food service workers we have seen in a long time. I'm getting another dose of perspective today. Let me tell you something, nothing will give you a sense of how ephemeral and fleeting life can be, like visiting a hospital with your child. Here you are surrounded by some of the brightest, most compassionate, skilled medical professionals around, but you also see the abundance of people with medical needs. Some are more severe than others, but all are needs. All are stark realities of the imperfect, broken world we live in.

In case you didn't know, little Miss Gia was born with Spina Bifida and had surgery at just 4 months old. Amy and I both knew this when we chose to adopt her into our family. Although this amazing little girl is doing very well, we are taking every opportunity to get her the medical care she needs, and hopefully also get a better picture of how her body has adapted over all these years. Gia inspires us every day.

While waiting for Gia to be done with her MRI, I'm doing some work, but also reflecting on how short life is, and how important it is to always remember, and invest in what matters the most: Faith and Family. Yeah I still get unnecessarily stressed out about the most tedious things such as traffic, work, aches/pains, and my job. I still get selfish and take things for granted from time to time. But each and every day I'm being reminded to not let those things impact me as much. It isn't worth spending the time being anxious, stressed, and over-worked for temporary things.

I am now in the waiting room for the follow up neurologist appointment with Amy and Gia, after we had some lunch, and I'm still reflecting on my experience this morning. As Gia came out of her anesthetic, she did not shed one tear. As her nurse took off all the monitors, tubes, and IV, I thought for sure this little girl would start to cry. Instead, in her scratchy little voice she said "Thank you" to the nurse. My heart swelled and I was once again inspired by this 8 year old miracle.

Today is another opportunity to see perspective in what we do. It is not always easy, but then most things fruitful and worthwhile usually aren't.