Wiley is having open heart surgery (can you have closed heart surgery?) today at WK North. In Atlanta next week, Daddy is having a hole in his heart stitched up, a hole that's not supposed to be there. In a medical mood, for Sunday's column, I wrote something about my initial prostate exam; one of my buddies said, "For you, that's sort of like brain surgery." You hit a rough patch and all of a sudden everybody's a comedian.
I'm fine, but please remember Daddy and Wiley in your prayers. My dear friend Sue Haley is duking it out with chemo down in Houston, and she's a trooper and her family is right there so I am rooting. And of course there are always others sick and hurting. A positive of one of life's knockdown punches: it should give you a lifetime of compassion. I've written myself a little note at home by my bed: "Be aware." (I have to write myself a note about being aware to help me learn to be aware. That's how unaware I've been. So I'm taking no chances...) And if you're aware, it's easy to throw out little prayers all day long toward people, because all of us have little hurts or big ones. We all could use some compassion, the giving and the getting. I've come to learn that it's really one of our main jobs. You don't realize it at first, but you get back more than you give. That's how it is in the Jesus Division: He requires more than you wanted to give, but you get back so much more than you'd hoped or asked for. I've asked him to keep me aware today.
