God Knew
The day that my dad came home for the first time was just for a visit during his therapy team's home evaluation. At one point, he was explaining to the OT what the original layout of the house was and how he had renovated and added onto it. She made a quite comment that I'm not sure anyone else heard other than me: "Well, apparently God knew back then that someday you were going to need wider doors and an open layout."
That statement was great cause for pause for me. What an intricate, intimate idea. God knew this accident would happen and gave my dad the skillset a long time ago to prepare his house for what he would someday need. And it's not just the open floor plan! In some cases, it's down to the inch. This one blows me away the most: my dad's motor wheelchair fits into the master bath with maybe a quarter of an inch to spare on each side, probably less. And that's after removing the door! God knew.
But it's not just the dimensions of the door frame. It's the chair, too. Most of you probably haven't heard the story behind that chair. My dad has a long-time customer who has become a friend over the course of his work for her. She says he's like a brother to her. This woman happens to have had a lifelong relationship with the nuns who taught at the school she attended decades ago, and she visits them regularly. They visit her as well, and, ironically, my dad put in a ramp on her house some years back so that those who are wheelchair bound could still enter her house. Anyway, these nuns receive wheelchairs from Medicare, and they have an arrangement with a local prison to make sure the chairs are still in good working order after the nuns have finished with them, and then the prison donates the chairs to whomsoever they wish. Somehow, within that cycle of wheelchair use, repair, and donation, this client arranged for the nuns to donate a motor wheelchair to my dad. So this chair isn't just a greatly useful piece of equipment for him, but it's also a meaningful gift, and it just so happens to just barely fit through the smallest doorway through which he ever has reason to pass. God knew Dad would need that chair, and He set up that whole complicated sequence of events which I'm sure has had many other God-ordained outcomes, but it sure makes me smile to know that the chair was one of them.
God also knew that my dad would have some peculiar, particular needs right about now, such as not being able to hold his left foot erect but needing to do so in order for it to heal properly. So what did God do? He gave my dad a wife who sews, and He gave my dad a brain to imagine solutions to all sorts of problems. As a result, my dad now has sock-toe pockets to put over his feet just up to the balls of the feet, and they each have "reins" attached to them so that he can adjust the position of either foot as needed. This not only helps him keep his feet and ankles in more natural positions while he's not moving, but it also helps him to lift and manipulate his feet and legs a little more easily when he's transferring between surfaces or changing positions. These small details really add up!
Dad's ingenuity also came in handy when he decided to design his own bedside ramp, and you may remember the tale of the commode seat from an earlier post. His most recent creation was a sort of trapeze hung from the ceiling of his bedroom so that he can sit himself up in bed when he firsts wakes and is stiff from the night of lying down. God knew he would need to be able to come up with creative solutions to problems, and He gave Dad a mind capable of doing just that.
My favorite characteristic of my dad that has stood out through all of this as being a direct gift from God is his incredibly keen awareness of real-life geometry. My dad's spatial reasoning skills are off the charts. He can visualize and execute down to a fraction of an inch exactly how to maneuver himself through tight spaces and around obstacles. I can't tell you how many things I would have scratched, dented, and smashed by now if it were up to me to get that wheelchair anywhere. I took it through the house, out the door, and down the ramp once and it was missing pieces by the time I'd finished. There's a scratch in the front door that bespeaks my guilt. I nearly peed my pants from laughing at how badly the whole episode was going as I simultaneously worried I would fall right off of the ramp. But not so with Dad. The only thing that surprises me about his skill at driving that wheelchair around is that he hasn't installed rearview mirriors yet.
God knew what my dad would have to deal with in this season, and He graciously chose to make it a little easier by giving him so many skills that are helping him cope. I could go on, but this post has already grown quite long. It has almost become a game for me to look for little "coincidental" details like these and realize, "Oh, God knew about this or that, and He prepared a solution for it way ahead of time by doing ____." It's quite a comfort.
That statement was great cause for pause for me. What an intricate, intimate idea. God knew this accident would happen and gave my dad the skillset a long time ago to prepare his house for what he would someday need. And it's not just the open floor plan! In some cases, it's down to the inch. This one blows me away the most: my dad's motor wheelchair fits into the master bath with maybe a quarter of an inch to spare on each side, probably less. And that's after removing the door! God knew.
But it's not just the dimensions of the door frame. It's the chair, too. Most of you probably haven't heard the story behind that chair. My dad has a long-time customer who has become a friend over the course of his work for her. She says he's like a brother to her. This woman happens to have had a lifelong relationship with the nuns who taught at the school she attended decades ago, and she visits them regularly. They visit her as well, and, ironically, my dad put in a ramp on her house some years back so that those who are wheelchair bound could still enter her house. Anyway, these nuns receive wheelchairs from Medicare, and they have an arrangement with a local prison to make sure the chairs are still in good working order after the nuns have finished with them, and then the prison donates the chairs to whomsoever they wish. Somehow, within that cycle of wheelchair use, repair, and donation, this client arranged for the nuns to donate a motor wheelchair to my dad. So this chair isn't just a greatly useful piece of equipment for him, but it's also a meaningful gift, and it just so happens to just barely fit through the smallest doorway through which he ever has reason to pass. God knew Dad would need that chair, and He set up that whole complicated sequence of events which I'm sure has had many other God-ordained outcomes, but it sure makes me smile to know that the chair was one of them.
God also knew that my dad would have some peculiar, particular needs right about now, such as not being able to hold his left foot erect but needing to do so in order for it to heal properly. So what did God do? He gave my dad a wife who sews, and He gave my dad a brain to imagine solutions to all sorts of problems. As a result, my dad now has sock-toe pockets to put over his feet just up to the balls of the feet, and they each have "reins" attached to them so that he can adjust the position of either foot as needed. This not only helps him keep his feet and ankles in more natural positions while he's not moving, but it also helps him to lift and manipulate his feet and legs a little more easily when he's transferring between surfaces or changing positions. These small details really add up!
Dad's ingenuity also came in handy when he decided to design his own bedside ramp, and you may remember the tale of the commode seat from an earlier post. His most recent creation was a sort of trapeze hung from the ceiling of his bedroom so that he can sit himself up in bed when he firsts wakes and is stiff from the night of lying down. God knew he would need to be able to come up with creative solutions to problems, and He gave Dad a mind capable of doing just that.
My favorite characteristic of my dad that has stood out through all of this as being a direct gift from God is his incredibly keen awareness of real-life geometry. My dad's spatial reasoning skills are off the charts. He can visualize and execute down to a fraction of an inch exactly how to maneuver himself through tight spaces and around obstacles. I can't tell you how many things I would have scratched, dented, and smashed by now if it were up to me to get that wheelchair anywhere. I took it through the house, out the door, and down the ramp once and it was missing pieces by the time I'd finished. There's a scratch in the front door that bespeaks my guilt. I nearly peed my pants from laughing at how badly the whole episode was going as I simultaneously worried I would fall right off of the ramp. But not so with Dad. The only thing that surprises me about his skill at driving that wheelchair around is that he hasn't installed rearview mirriors yet.
God knew what my dad would have to deal with in this season, and He graciously chose to make it a little easier by giving him so many skills that are helping him cope. I could go on, but this post has already grown quite long. It has almost become a game for me to look for little "coincidental" details like these and realize, "Oh, God knew about this or that, and He prepared a solution for it way ahead of time by doing ____." It's quite a comfort.
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