Frustration's Gift

     I marvel at the words I hear regarding Gabrielle Giffords' condition as she arrives in Houston for her rehabilitation.   I feel so good for her.
     The doctors are pleased that Gabrielle has acknowledged the speech of other people around her.  If the doctors did not express the optimism they have, two layers of frustration would set in.  Most acknowledge the first.  When she regained consciousness, the efforts to use the human faculties impaired by the traumatic brain injury impose frustration that all may understand.  Yet, far more frustrating than being unable to perform--to exhibit--any given task, is the unspoken frustration that screams to be heard--unspoken screams to loved ones.  
     "I can hear you talking to me.  My body is not cooperating with your orders.  But, I am here.  Be still. Listen. Pray. I can hear you.  I am here.  Let us not despair.  Let us be together in this moment's challenge."
     As I listen with others to Gabrielle's recovery, I cringe.  I pray.  Will she return to normal to satisfy her family, friends, colleagues, and doctors--her healers?  Or, will she be allowed to be turned to a new life that may emerge from what has changed her? Will she be given, not the old words to be spoken that acknowledge healing, but, the instruments to re-create her life anew?
     I hope--I pray--that Gabrielle may be spared the full onslaught of Frustration's Screams.  May she be given enough that she may open Frustration's Gift of Appreciation.