Just Call Me Chippie

Chippie the parakeet never saw it coming. One second he was peacefully perched in his cage. The next he was sucked in, washed up, and blown over.  The problems began when Chippie’s owner decided to clean Chippie’s cage with a vacuum cleaner. She removed the attachment from the end of the hose and stuck it in the cage. The phone rang, and she turned to pick it up. She’d barely said “hello” when “sssopp!” Chippie got sucked in. The bird owner gasped, put down the phone, turned off the vacuum, and opened the bag. There was Chippie – still alive, but stunned. Since the bird was covered with dust and soot, she grabbed him and raced to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and held Chippie under the running water. Then, realizing that Chippie was soaked and shivering, she did what any compassionate bird owner would do  . . . she reached for the hair dryer and blasted the pet with hot air. Poor Chippie never knew what hit him.  A few days after the trauma, the reporter who’d initially written about the event contacted Chippie’s owner to see how the bird was recovering.  “Well.” She replied, “Chippie doesn’t sing much anymore – he just sits and stares.”  By Max Lucado.

Yeah, epilepsy does that to you.  In fact, it does it to you over and over again with every new seizure.  I’ve been held under more faucets and blasted with more hair dryers than I can remember . . . and I don’t feel much like singing anymore. Thankfully, Savannah sings for the both of us.  Even though she’s the one with epilepsy, it’s almost as if she is blissfully unaware of the smack down we endure because she doesn’t remember the seizures.  And since she doesn’t have the mindset to compare herself to others, she doesn’t really seem to see how epilepsy limits her.  It’s actually kind of beautiful. So at this Thanksgiving time, I am so thankful for my beautiful Savannah.  Her persistent smile, infectious giggle, and unending love allow me to still sing . . .despite epilepsy.  Happy Thanksgiving.  J