The Year the Focus Shifted

The Year the Focus Shifted

The temperature hovered around 20^o below zero on December 20 when Donna left the ranch south of town to go to work. A thaw a couple of weeks earlier followed by the bitter cold had left deep frozen ruts in the gravel road making the daily trip to town and back again quite treacherous. Whether she was going a little too fast or was momentarily distracted or it was inevitable, Donna hit a rut at the wrong angle and her car flipped into the ditch.

She was NOT knocked out and was able to crawl out of the car. She made her way to a neighbor’s house about 200 yards down the road. No one answered her knocking! However, the back door was not locked and she went in. She was able to call 9-1-1. (In 1983, cell phones were unknown and country dwellers usually left their back door unlocked!) Then she lost consciousness.

The calls went out, “Donna rolled her car. She’s in the hospital.”

Suddenly, my screaming “to do” list faded into oblivion. My worries over the budget were overwhelmed by concern for Donna. Noisy teenagers, home from school, were strangely quiet after hearing the news. Each going off silently to homework or chores. Supper grace was not for food but for Donna. The sense that our family circle had a dent in it made those gathered around the table a little closer.

Later, another call came. “Nothing is broken. She’s badly bruised but should be ok.”

My thoughts did not go back to the “to do” list or the budget concerns, but stayed in the mellow warmth of the real importance of holiday celebrations. God sent His son into a family! The family is the touchstone.

Donna was in the hospital until the 24^th. The family had all gathered at the ranch by then. She was stiff and in considerable pain and we were all very solicitous. Because the five steps into the house were difficult, a roll-away was set up for her near the Christmas tree. Traditionally the grandchildren rolled out sleeping bags on the living room floor and whispered and giggled into the midnight hours. This night they went quietly to sleep to avoid disturbing Aunt Donna. Always one to pick up on the drama of any situation, Donna presided over the gift opening Christmas morning propped up on pillows in her bed by the tree. Then, so she wouldn’t get too full of herself (my opinion), as the rest of family went off to get the day started, we heard a squeal and then a crash. Rushing back to the living room, we found Donna in her bed with the Christmas tree on top of her.

“I could see it coming but I couldn’t move out of the way.” Unfortunately, no one got a picture of Donna, bruised, battered, and decorated but we remember the year the focus shifted.