Classes, so far anyway, seem do-able. I was nervous about heading back, because (I'll admit it), Anatomy and Physiology scared me. That was a hard, hard class. By the end of it, I was bleary eyed, and waving the white flag, and yelling 'uncle'. I am pretty darn proud of that B, but ay yi yi, what a horrible class.
So I did head into fall semester's classes a bit cautiously, and I took my seat at the back of the class and I listened to the teachers' first day talks, and carefully looked over the syllabus (syllabi?...huh...must check that one out.) I think I'll be okay, but I'm not saying that with any great confidence at this point. The OT classes themselves are filled with a very diverse crowd of people, and there are a number of people in that class who are close to my age. I think it will be challenging, but in a good way.
Tim and I were talking in bed, about the weird turns that life has taken lately, about all the exciting things that are happening. For both of us, really. We wonder what this means. Tim mused, "I've been watching your writing take off, and I know where that is leading, but I wonder about the OT thing. Why are you there? Why did that door open so quickly?" Yesterday in class, I listened to a teacher talk about the different facets of OT, about our work in other areas besides geriatrics. She ticked off examples. "Prisons, rehab hospitals, treatment centers for the mentally ill..." She went on, but my mind had stopped. Right there. I thought of what this could mean in my own life. To be able to stop grieving about my girl and to help her, really, truly assist. To make her feel good about herself, to inspire within her the confidence to step out into a new world. And suddenly it was clear to me why this door had opened. I've prayed for that girl for so long. Wept. Wrung my hands. Agonized over what to do. And now, I may find a direction. I cannot tell you what this means to me.
I came home to find an e-mail from WhiteStone that actually had me weeping with joy. She's had good news. She's dealt with ovarian cancer once, and it came back. She's doing her second round of chemo. Lost her hair for the second time. Dealt with all the uncertainties a second time. Yet through it all, she's remained firmly rooted in her faith and family. She has stood strong. She had a PT scan, and well, just go there and read it yourself.
In the middle of my rejoicing about that, Brianna and Buddy walked in. Home for just a time, we took them out to supper. They seem happy, and it was lovely to see that. Those early days of marriage are full of adjustments. It's not easy, but we talked about the baby, and they are downsizing to accomodate the extra expenses. It ended all too quickly. I had to get a notebook from the Walmart and get home to do some homework, but I hugged my girl and I said what I always say. "I pray for you every single day."
It was a wonderful day. Really.