Jed spent 2 1/2 years building up his strength and abilities. He was getting to the point that he could see the day when he would walk, really walk. Walk without major assistance. Walk because he wanted to go someplace. He worked at it. He worked with determination and focus. We all worked. Standing practice. Squats. Over and over to exhaustion, followed by pride. It was a dream, a future reality. We knew it was just a matter of combining exercise wtih therapy, with nutrition, with good home practices. We worked, and we worked, and we worked. We bought a standing frame to help him gain strength. He got to the point where he could stand for an hour or more, watching TV or working at his computer. It was all linear and made sense.
Then he got shingles. Shingles are bad. Jed lost all desire to work at his dream of walking. Life became a constant need to rid him of pain. Then it went worse. He lost drive and stamina, but he also lost immune power. Pnuemonia set in. Weeks and weeks. He spent months in bed with no desire to move toward anything but sleep.
He wasn't even aware how long it all was, the loss of the dream. One bad thing upon another and he became bedridden and powerless.
But now he knows. He remembers where he was. He knows that the 2 1/2 years of building have been lost.
But, remarkably, he is beginning again. He is finding the strength, somewhere, to start again.
Now we are practicing standing. He is standing in the standing frame for 5-10 minutes, not the once hour. He is seeing the dream, and is willing to start the tremendous effort to begin to follow it once again.
I have great admiration for his grit.
We don't talk about God much. But we both have a powerful and constant faith that we can neither define nor grasp. It's just there. I can't imagine life without it. Grit and determination are wonderful. Following dreams, however basic, are important, but life without faith would be really awful.
Then he got shingles. Shingles are bad. Jed lost all desire to work at his dream of walking. Life became a constant need to rid him of pain. Then it went worse. He lost drive and stamina, but he also lost immune power. Pnuemonia set in. Weeks and weeks. He spent months in bed with no desire to move toward anything but sleep.
He wasn't even aware how long it all was, the loss of the dream. One bad thing upon another and he became bedridden and powerless.
But now he knows. He remembers where he was. He knows that the 2 1/2 years of building have been lost.
But, remarkably, he is beginning again. He is finding the strength, somewhere, to start again.
Now we are practicing standing. He is standing in the standing frame for 5-10 minutes, not the once hour. He is seeing the dream, and is willing to start the tremendous effort to begin to follow it once again.
I have great admiration for his grit.
We don't talk about God much. But we both have a powerful and constant faith that we can neither define nor grasp. It's just there. I can't imagine life without it. Grit and determination are wonderful. Following dreams, however basic, are important, but life without faith would be really awful.
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