Small and tattered miracles


In the early fall last year, I noticed that our camellia bush was covered in buds and read that they’d bloom sometime early this year.  Until Maria came back with us on the 21st, I had been checking those buds faithfully each day and it seemed like they would never open up and bloom.  In January, after we got hit with the hard freeze, I saw how the buds looked a little browned and frayed around the edges and I also heard they were likely to fall off without blooming.

These past two weeks, getting through each day has been about what I had right in front of me, and nothing more.  When Maria woke up this morning, she was spoiling for a fight, refusing to take her meds and adamant that under no circumstances would she return to TDC.   Sherod and I spent a good part of the morning with adrenaline zinging through our veins, with emails flying and phone calls back and forth to the attorney in Tallahassee.  And finally, finally, the log jam has begun to clear.  First, Maria’s teaching staff at her school in Tallahassee prepared a letter describing in painful detail how frequently Maria arrived to school with no grooming or personal hygiene, how resistant the TDC staff was to work with them to address this issue.  With that letter, we finished gathering all the extra documentation and our attorney prepared the petition.

All the legal parties involved have agreed that the documentation we’ve provided in support of the transfer is strong enough not to require a formal hearing.  If (and of course, the operant word is IF), the judge sitting in for the judge who would normally render a decision about our petition, is able to review our documents tomorrow, by the close of business, the permission may already be granted.  Everything indicates that latest by Friday, the approval will come in.  The Agency for Persons with Disabilities will have to follow through on a few last steps.  It has helped enormously to let our girl know that it looks pretty good for us to head to Fort Lauderdale in the middle of next week.  Pray God, that will be the case.

At lunchtime, during a brief lull in the drama, I went out to get the mail.  A small flash of color caught my eye and when I looked, it was the camellia bush, with many of the buds beginning to bloom.  They show aftereffects of the deep freeze and with another one coming tomorrow, who knows how much of a bloom we’ll get.  But it was one of those moments when the only thing you can do is fall on your knees because even if it was small, and a little tattered, it was still the miracle most needed.  We have to get through the next few days, but somehow, we will.

4 thoughts on “Small and tattered miracles

  1. My own camellia looked so brown last week. Today I saw a bud opening. There is hope. Thank God things are beginning to fall into place. Keep saying “Yes, Lord; Thank you Lord.” Cannot wait for a chance to have a meal with just you and S. and talk.

  2. So we hope for spring and now and then, there is a flash of color that reminds us it is coming once again into our lives. Thank Sherod for the email and I will keep you informed of the events of our world..

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