Rarely does my sweet wife use her left hand to move her lovely salt & pepper hair out of her face. Instead, she uses her right hand. Why?
She can't naturally reach her hair with her left hand due to her left arm's post stroke condition. Too, she can't feel her hair with her left hand (even if she could reach it easily).
If you observe her using her left hand to touch her hair (as I did over the weekend), it's awkward. For her forearm won't bend naturally at her elbow as it should. Instead, it's stilted or hung up at the joint. As if her elbow were locked tight at a certain angle.
When she walks, her gait is biased towards her right side. Therefore, her stride is more of a left leg drag than a true symmetrical rhythm like we're used to seeing.
Because Angie doesn't have lengthy legs, her limp isn't nearly as noticeable. Were she built more like my oldest daughter, it would be undeniable.
Another deficit is her inability to jump or run at any pace. If you were to ask her to do either, she'd laugh at the request.
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When I befriended Angie in high school, she was the most delicate female soul I'd ever encountered. In line with that was her class and her intelligence, but her core attribute was this virgin saintliness that was so very inspiring / attractive. Never had I met anyone so fragile yet so compelling.
Angie loves Jesus firstly. A close second to Jesus is her love for the church.
Our church, Lakeside Pres, has never had Sunday evening church services. Angie bemoans this missed opportunity. For though she's been to church on Sunday morning, she loves the idea of returning for more six hours later.
This is just how she is and always has been.
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I am and have never been ashamed to have a wife who's physically disabled. She and I are closer than we've ever been throughout these 28-years of marriage, and much of that is a result of her willingness to allow me to serve her well post stroke.
How?
Physical stuff for one, such as housework, yard work. But then too, we've only had intercourse thrice since May 29, 2020. And I'm not embarrassed to type that. Most middle-aged couples (with a disabled spouse or not) have very little / much less interest in sexual activity compared to their childbearing / rearing years.
Being physical / doing physical is a reminder of her deficits, therefore we forgo that to make room for other things that are just as / if not moreso (for us) unifying.
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What's so very sobering is really taking the time to acknowledge Angie's limp. And I did that this past Saturday, (9/7) whilst at our daughters' college campus. We spent the majority of the day there, traversing (on foot) from one section to another (& back again) in light of their football team's first home game.
For when I take the time to observe, I see her, once again, as a teenager. Fragile. Vulnerable. And this makes me very, very emotional.
If you know me at all, you know that I feel at 150% when I allow myself to. But even when that's intentionally throttled back, compared to most, I'm hypersensitive to emotional states. And I've grown to love this about myself.
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In closing, Samson Society meetings have been unique Petri dishes for me to hone these sensitivity gifts. I've done so simply by listening / observing - just as everyone else does - but with my heart completely open.
For I know the shares will be raw and not relegated to critique as we observe each other in kind. Step by limp by step.
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