Memories on the 7th Floor

   They tell us they are moving her from the emergency room to the 7^th floor.  So I head up there to wait.  They wheel her in to room 1753 and get her comfortable.  It’s a blessing to be able to sit in the room with her.  The room is familiar. Very familiar. 

   The 7^th floor at Huntsville Hospital is the oncology floor.  It was only a year ago that I walked those floors, sat in those rooms, stared out those windows, sitting in the room on the 7^th floor with my own husband.  It was a blessing then too.  Don’t get me wrong, it was tiring and it was emotional but it was a blessing. 

   Last night I sat at the window seat at the end of the hallway, staring out the window as the rain came down.  Memories are funny things.  I remember clearly doing that same thing last year.  Watching out that same window during the rain.  I remember the rain looking like liquid diamonds.  Why had I not ever noticed it looking like that before?  It’s strange how memories pop into our heads.  I have a lot of memories I’d like to forget!  I wish those would just pop right out and not come back.  When I get to heaven I’m gonna have to ask God why he allowed me to remember bad memories but on any given day I might not remember my kids birthdates or what I had for lunch that day!  That just doesn’t seem right.  But, I think I’ve learned something about those not so good memories.  I think I have finally learned to use even those memories for good.  When Mike was going through his cancer stuff last year one of the things he said that really stuck with me was that every bad thing you go through is an opportunity for good.  So I suppose that applies to bad memories too.  They have potential for good – if we choose.

   So in case you wondered, the 7^th floor memories don’t scare me.  They grow me.  They remind me that every day is a gift and one to be thankful for.  They remind me that there are no guarantees in life.  To quote my friend in room 1753, “It can all change on a dime.”  And she is exactly right; we just have to be ready.  And by ready I mean- prayed up- lived up- faithed up (I know that’s not a real word but you get the point). 

   In a little while I’ll head back to the 7^th floor.  I’ll visit her.  I’ll breathe in the familiarity of room 1753 and the 7th floor,  and know that these hours and days are just building more memories.  Like liquid diamonds.