Pick up that 200 pound phone and call her!
Recently, I was causally reading Anne Lamott’s new book, Help Thanks Wow—and the following words jumped off the page, confronting me. Here are those words:
“God must love to hear us calling our meth-head cousin just to check in because no one else in the family speaks to him.”
So, Ann says,” I picked up the two-hundred pound phone, dialed his number, and said, “How are you?”
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A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year old grandson. The old man’s hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather’s shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. “We must do something about father,” said the son. “I’ve had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor.”
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It was two days before Christmas and a horrible ice storm hit our town. Thousands were without power and the outside temperatures were below freezing.
After cleaning up the kitchen, I sat down for a minute to relax and work on a puzzle. Out of the blue, a family from my church came to my mind. The mother is suffering from a severe mental condition and has been placed in an adult care facility. The father has a major brain injury, and the oldest son has Down syndrome.
