Put a bird on it!

This summer I met a delightful Canadian couple, and when I introduced myself as being from Portland, Oregon, the woman giggled.
"My wife isn't laughing at you," the husband quickly explained, "we've just finished watching two seasons of Portlandia on Netflix."
"Ahh," I smiled understandingly.
"Is it really like that?" The woman sheepishly asked, almost embarrassed to think such a caricature could be grounded in truth but desperate to know from a genuine source.
"Actually, yes. It's almost exactly like that. In fact, when the show first came out, I was shocked to discover people did not put birds on things and call them art. My roommate from Reno, Nevada had to explain to me that was a distinctly Portlandian thing to do."

I'm pretty liberal in telling that description of my Portlandian soaked nature; I actually like birds on things. When I was first in the hospital, knowing the Portland joke, my friend Carol brought me birds to put on my bed and make me feel at home. In the Portlandia sketch, the Portlanders paint birds all over objects and hilariously freak out at the arrival of a real bird. Yesterday morning, a bird flew in my room. I laughed once I registered the absurdity.

My life constantly seems absurd.

Random birds fly in my room to be shooed out by frazzled nurses, and my bestie from America made plans to visit me weeks before my accident. Sarah has been a huge part of my life for almost a decade once we met as part of a church plant in Hillsboro, Oregon. She was with me at the airport when I checked in to my one way flight to Germany last summer, and this visit was beautifully timed though drastically different than what we originally planned.

While I hoped to walk her sound Kandern, she wheeled me around the rehab facility this afternoon, and we talked about what has happened in my heart since I saw her last. While I hoped to play games with her and my new friends here, I passed a balloon back and forth with her while a therapist kept me from falling over. While I hoped to spend every waking second outside of my classroom with her, I have to send her away at the end of visiting hours each day.

It's a different visit than I hoped or planned, but it's still a stupendous opportunity fit me to share my soul with one of my favorite people on the planet, and I consider it such a gift that not only could she come, but she could care for me in a way only old friends can. I was particularly blessed to share my old friend with a new one as Dayla came tonight for our usual Tuesday visit and to take Sarah home for the night. I loved laughing and talking with two women I love dearly who have gotten to know me on opposite sides of the Atlantic and both want to spend time with me.

I'm grateful for the friends who are willing to stand by me as I navigate the absurdities of my life. I'm thankful for all you reading and continuing to follow my story or pray for me. Thank you for continuing to be concerned for me as a whole person as I emotionally and physically adjust to my new life. Please continue to specifically lift up bathroom functions. I'm still praying for a complete recovery, but I also need to learn patience and independence in the mean time. My core muscles are still getting a beating after nearly four months holiday, so please pray they catch up quickly and that I'll soon be able to easily put on and tie my shoes (praise God for the success of completing the task for the first time ever in a mere thirty minutes). Pray also for my left hip to learn to hold its weight when I'm finding my balance. I currently rotate to the left (or completely fall backwards) when I try to stand without holding anything because the muscles are weaker on that side.