Lessons in gratefulness

Happy Thanksgiving from London.

I'm just back from visiting a new American expat friend who is hospitalized. She's recovering from a stroke that came out of nowhere. Her mother and aunt are here from the States. They're taking her back home to continue her recovery.

Cheryl is such a character -- still. And she's very blessed to have family who knew what to do. They aren't rich. They've just had their share of struggle and sicknesses, and they've never given up. Never stayed down. Never lost sight of the miracles in life. So when their baby girl had a massive stroke at age 37 halfway across the world, they stepped up to the challenge. They're figuring it out as they go. She is so loved. So supported.

It's been a month and she's walking. Cheryl is a very independent, outspoken woman who has traveled all over the globe. Even robbed of speech, she still is a handful in the stroke ward. She cuts her eyes when her mother entreats her to slow down and chew her food. She's not used to being told what to do. Not interested in being treated like a child. This Thanksgiving meal is her first solid meal since the stroke.

When she gets up to show off her newest victory -- walking -- she dances a little jig of joyful playfulness that belies all the hard work in rehab. She tries to send away the speech pathologist who arrives for her daily lessons. Maybe today she will learn another word. Her right arm is still paralyzed. So she writes her mom and aunt's name with her left hand. But she can't remember her father's name. That frustrates her. She throws down the blue erasable pen. She doesn't want to write anymore. But she would like some tea. So very much in her power -- still.

Her mother and aunt, my mother and myself sit in Cheryl's small apartment near the hospital and each take a turn stating what we're grateful for this holiday. There was so much. So much.

Live, Love, Laugh -- Fearlessly.
Nadirah