Tuesday, May 5, 2015


Twelve years ago, I had a seizure.  While my brain rebooted itself and I regained consciousness, I couldn't articulate anything, and I was somehow completely aware that if you had asked me what my name was, I couldn't have told you.

The only thoughts to clearly come up in my mind were an image of my soon-to-be husband Doug, and an image of my twin brother, Michael.  I couldn't have explained at that moment who they were, but the image of their faces in my mind somehow made a disorienting and frightening situation OK.

There's been a lot of stress the last few years, in our lives, in the lives of people we care about.  Relationships have changed, relationships have ended, jobs have ended, lives have been rearranged.  But I still find the presences of both these men inherently reassuring.  I've had moments where I've wanted to string one or the other up by his toes, but I've never, never doubted that they love me,  and that I can count on them. 

My first day of clinical for my nursing program, my very first patient died.  His family wasn't there, which made me a little sad, but it was merely an accident of timing, not the story of his life.  An instructor made the comment that we all come into the world alone.  In my head I thought, "I didn't".  No one else may die the same day as me.  But my twinhood and my marriage have made me believe that no one comes to or leaves this world alone.

And a sort of rough Friday last week told me that I'm right to count on those two.   I'm glad that, in a life overflowing with good and generous people, the Lord gave me both of them.  They're good men, good fathers, good friends and I'm grateful to be loved by them both.

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