But yesterday, Boxing Day, saw me step into the ring again. However, this time, it was against the Mohammed Ali of fisticuffs. This time it was against God. Needless to say, I didn’t stand a chance and I awoke this morning with two bloodshot eyes.
Let me explain.
On Thursday night, I visited our good friend Jack to deliver a Christmas gift. Over the past few weeks, I had put together a collage of pictures of friends from his old neighbourhood to remind Jack that we still care and think about him. Terry also had some of the neighbours sign a giant Christmas card to bring him some cheer. Although I am banned from visiting, I thought I’d take a chance and drop in at eight o’clock in the evening when fewer staff are around to monitor visitors.
I made my way to his room without incident. The Christmas package in my left hand was a good cover for my nefarious mission. His door opened immediately when I knocked. It was Jack’s son-in-law…..my banning nemesis. I was shocked. Quickly, I explained that I was in the area and came by to drop off a present. Jack appeared from his bedroom looking happy and confused all at the same time. I shook his hand, wished him Merry Christmas and then went on my way not wanting to create a scene. What bad timing.
My bad timing continued on Christmas eve. My daughter Carolyn was coming in from Ottawa with daughter Janice, her husband Kevin and 10 month old Isla. At just about the time they arrived, I noticed my right eye was getting quite itchy and red. Terry quickly diagnosed that I had pink eye and any thought of holding my granddaughter or attending Midnight Mass evaporated. I was being banned again.
My Christmas Day included a visit to the walk-in clinic to get some medication for both eyes now. The doctor said that pink eye is highly contagious and that I should restrict contact with Christmas guests. Although I can’t say that I’d been planning to hug my brothers anyway, I did miss acting as host for our family Christmas get-together. Terry was a one woman show. It was like watching a parade from inside a phone booth.
Then, like another body blow, the cough and cold that had been coming on for the past week decided to go take over. My voice became thin voice and raspy. Now I couldn’t even call for help to get me out of the phone booth.
My voice all but disappeared on Boxing Day along with my plans to attend a special football game at Hart House on the U of T campus. For the past eighteen years, a group of Brebeuf alumni brave the winter elements and take to the field for a friendly game. Although on the DL, I had wanted to watch from the sidelines. I had even assembled some Brebeuf memorabilia for these hearty combatants. Needless to say, my plans were scuttled and those 2012 Brebeuf calendars will be of little use when the next game takes place.
And so, last night I was sparring with God. It was almost midnight and I was feeling belligerent. I challenged Him to show me how any of the past five days was part of some master plan. How can I serve anyone while standing in a phone booth? What part of the plan is not being able to hug your grandchild, attend Christmas Mass or carve a turkey? I just don’t get it. My mind raced. And what about the plan for starving children in Somalia or victims of natural disasters? How does that work? I was swinging wildly now.
God didn’t punch back. In fact, He backed off. He let me punch myself out....the classic rope a dope trick.
This morning, I knew I had lost ROUND 7 bit still wasn’t quite sure why.
So Jacob was left alone,
and a man wrestled with him till daybreak.
Genesis 32:24
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