Dear God, make me a bird, so I can fly far far far away from here.

That kept playing through my head Wednesday night. It echoed off my lips. The words formed and found substance as the vibrations hit the air. I felt a direct line to something divine, and I hoped against hope he was listening. A small part of me half expected to sprout wings and fly out through my car window. I couldn’t help but repeat it over and over as I drove home from the Emergency Room a little after Midnight.

The phone call wasn’t the opening shot, but it went for the jugular. My Mom called. They took my dad from his physical therapy facility back to the ER. He was hallucinating and talking to someone who wasn’t even there. My heart dropped into my knees. I got the full story while my mom rushed to the ER to be with him. She called me again shortly after, while I was at a work dinner. He was having tremors, and his eyes were rolling back into his head. Flashbacks of finding him near death in his chair plagued me. I sped over to the ER as fast as I could go. He barely knew I was there. I cussed out a bitchy nurse so badly, she almost had me escorted from the hospital. All of this on top of the searing, steaming load of 80-hour work weeks and excessive travel I’d been expected to pull off.

To say Wednesday was a low point is like saying the Grand Canyon is a crack in a sidewalk. My body/mind/soul were in epic-style turmoil.

It takes those low points for you to realize how important small human niceties really are. How important your relationships are with other people. And in a devastating way, those low points remind you that you are not super-human. You are not invulnerable. You are a weak, fragile human who has to deal with the cruel twists fate likes to toss about.

I don’t think I’ve ever typed those words about myself in my life. The truth washed over my as I was saying my prayer to flee. It was as humbling as it was powerful. I didn’t enjoy it, but the universe didn’t care. So much of this year has been life shoving loads of fire down my throat and then saying, “Hope it doesn’t burn on the way down.”

But what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger right? I think a better lesson is – put life into perspective. Smile more often. Hug more often. Reciprocate good feelings. We get caught up in the hum-drum muddle of everyday drama, we forget to take a step back. My dad’s ailments over the past seven weeks have forced me into perspective. Drug me out of the matrix before I was ready. The real world stings, but at least I know it’s real. And I’m so thankful for the goodness in it when and where it happens.

This is my 100th post, and it took me forever to write it. I wanted to make it a happy note. A triumphant story about me achieving my goals. But when the words “Dear God, make me a bird…” came out of my mouth, I knew it has always been about my truths and my inner workings, not the projection I’d like to share.

So I look forward to the next hundred, hoping for more goodness and a whole lot of light. But even if there is only a touch, I’ll revel in it. I’ll hold onto it. I’ll cherish it for all that it’s worth.

God, I want to change my prayer. I don’t need to be a bird. Just help me keep being human, and remind me all the good that comes with it.

-Ry

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