2 Corinthians
-
We’re hosting a party today. Thanks to Talacey and her brother Brandon who are doing all the work while I “supervise” with one hand, tables are set. Chairs arranged. The backyard’s been scrubbed, swept, and decorated with banners. Because Nana is turning 95.
-
It’s easy to measure the day by what you checked off. The boxes you marked. The tasks you tackled. The output you created. I’m the kind of guy who does something not on the list then adds it to the list—just so I can cross it off. And today—three days after surgery—my list doesn’t look…
-
Yesterday, therapy hurt. Not the kind of hurt that fades with Advil. The kind that makes your stomach turn and your vision blur. The kind that leaves you wondering whether this is recovery… or regression.
-
Yesterday was long. Four hours to San Francisco. Four hours in pre-op, surgery, and recovery. Four more hours to get back home. Today, it’s already time to start therapy. The kind that comes with cracking and bleeding. The kind they tell you will be “excruciating” like they’re forecasting the weather.
