October 8, 2018
My commute to work is short. On a good day by missing all the lights, I can pull into the parking lot at church in just under four minutes. When I cruise through the neighborhood in the morning, I look for people I know to wave at. There are the walkers that I see, and I wave to them as well. About a year ago one of the nice houses on Cousteau Street was converted to board and care place. There’s also one on our street, but I never see anyone outside. There is a resident at the house on Cousteau that stands out with his walker almost every morning. Sometimes he leans up against the side of the house and others times he sitting on a bench but he’s always alone. For a couple of months before the stroke, I began to wave at him, sometimes honking my horn my tinny VW horn and smiling. But to be honest, I’ve been frustrated that I haven’t made the time to stop by and introduce myself maybe provide a little bit of company to someone I perceive is lonely. I’ve continued on to work the tinge of guilt.
Now that I find myself sitting wheelchair all day and wishing for anything else to do than wait for bedtime (not all days, but honestly, some) I have become hyper-aware that there are lonely people surrounding me. Laguna Hills and Mission Viejo neighborhoods are filled with people without hope, people without friends, and people without family. It could be just a stroke residual that is me sad when I think of these situations, but I feel it is more likely a prompting by the Holy Spirit.
I am still a long way off from driving, but there has been an offer on an electric wheelchair that we can borrow. I am hoping one day soon I will wheel down to that house and make a new friend.
# learningnewlessons # hatesittingstill