Grasping Gabrielle Giffords' Memory

     I, as many, have been drawn to the shooting of twenty individuals--the killing of six.  Others are well-equipped to address the motives, proper criminal adjudication, appropriate legislation to enact.  I am responsible to communicate my beliefs to my Senators, and Representative.
     Yet, for now, my attention is stuck on the brain injury of Gabrielle Giffords.  As I understand it, the bullet went through the left hemisphere of her brain, and came out the other side.  My interest is not academic.  No, I have never been struck in the head by a bullet.  No, I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on television.
      My interest in Gabrielle Giffords' current condition, and the future impact of her brain injury, rests in my experience being born with cerebral palsy.  My umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck five times at birth, which caused the oxygen supply to the left part of my brain to be cut off for several seconds.  I remember those facts better than any fact entrusted to me in my 50 years of living.
     Speech loss, and difficulty regurgitating what has been spoken to you, has been mentioned a number of times.  Though feared at my birth--rarely, not always, but rarely--am I at a loss for words.  Yet, when it comes to retaining what has been spoken to me, that is another story.  I do not have a proclivity for the sciences, but, I do have a deep fascination with--appreciation of--the interworkings of the brain.  They are truly miraculous.
     I remember an imbalance of anticonvulsants left me coherent in my written communication, and understanding, yet, wholly without short-term memory for three weeks.   I was an outsider to the human thought process.  I recognized people I knew, I remembered their names.
    Yet, spoken words, and instructions were beyond my grasp--they floated by as a kite on a March day.  I was frightened that my short-term memory would never be returned to me, as if it was My Possession to keep.
    My short-term memory never has been my best of friends.  Yet, she and I are coming to an understanding. If I listen, she will tell me when she may no longer serve me.  She and Intuition have formed a partnership.  Both commit themselves to serve me--to serve the sharing of my person each day.
    May Gabrielle Giffords be given the service of her brain--her speech, her short-term memory, all of the amazing gifts of her brain.  May no pressure be added to her brain as to what her future may be--may allow.  Only God knows what she--what any of us--may do a moment from now, much less a day, week, month, year or more from now.  An accident, or an injury deceives us into thinking that anticipating the future is possible to accomplish.
       May we live each day, not for what it might be, but, for what it is.  May we find some appreciation of the "is" that is beneath what we hope it "might be," as if it were ours to dictate.  May we be given the hope, and the strength to seek what "might be" without being embittered to what "is."
      God grant me hope.  God grant me strength.  God grant me laughter.  Thank God for the Written Word.