Putting It All in Perspective

I had intended to continue periodic postings on my job, but things at work quickly became a parody of dysfunction. So I've been struggling not only with what to share, but with my own next steps in resolving the madness.

Then, last week I received this message from my mom:

My father had been returning from his annual fishing trip to Canada. Each July for the past couple of decades, he and his best friend from high school arranged an expedition into the wilderness for a week. My dad would drive from Virginia to Ohio, pick up Gilbert, then they would drive to whichever town was closest to the lake they were visiting that year, and take a bush plane to their destination.

All I knew in those early hours was that they'd been in an accident. Gilbert had been killed. My father was medevacked to the closest city: Thunder Bay, Ontario.

My mother and sister flew up to Thunder Bay the next day, and my sister sent me updates via WhatsApp. It was torture being 6800 km and 6 time zones away and helpless. I'd snatch a few restless hours of sleep, only to wake up every time my phone screen lit up, and anxiously read the next status report.

Over the course of this week I've agonized vicariously through reports of my father's intubation, chest tubes, rebreathers, nasal feeds. I've obsessed over the swelling around his brain, and the numerous broken bones--including one of his vertebra.

My sister sent me a link to an article about the accident. When I saw the pictures, I had a flashback to the girl I was back when I believed in God.

all photos from TRCCTB.com

God, Gaia, the universe--whatever--clearly had some plan for my father for him to have survived this head-on collision.

Which of course made me think about my life and where I was and what was my purpose. We all say life is too short and uncertain. But until you get that unexpected reminder that hits at your core, those are just words.

Now, just over a week later, my father's physical injuries have been repaired, and he'll be flown back to the U.S. to begin the long road to recovery. The doctor says it may be weeks or longer before he regains full consciousness.

But his situation has awakened in me a renewed need to focus on what's most important:

• To surround myself with what gives me joy, hope, and energy. 

• To cherish my time with friends and family and make the time to stop and smell the roses. 

• To let go of the grudges and the irritation at things that, when it comes down to life and death, do not matter in the slightest. 

• And most importantly, my next steps must be to use my gifts in whatever way I can to actively make things better for someone other than myself, even if it's just one person at a time.

Every moment of every day matters. Make the most of them.