When friends visit and we spend any time outside, the first question we get is “Don’t the trains going by bother you?” The easy answer is “We don’t hear them anymore”. I’m sure the same holds true for my good friends to the east and to the south who are even closer to the tracks. As we get used to noises that are repetitive, our mind has a way of quieting them down to the point that you don’t hear them anymore.

For the two weeks since her surgery, Suzanne has had a chronic problem of coughing up phlegm from her lungs due to her tracheotomy, especially during the nighttime hours. The cough doesn’t work like yours and mine as it has to come out of a tiny hole in her neck, not a very efficient process. My job as the ‘Pretender’ is to hear that sound and jump into action. Turn on the hall light so as not to blind us both in the middle of the night; get her into a more upright position; help remove the inner cannula for easier access; suction the Trach airway with what must feel like a garden hose to remove the phlegm; clean the inner cannula & help replace it; tuck her back into bed; shut off the hall light; find my way to bed and try and go back to sleep before it happens again.

These two weeks I have been able to hear the problem as it develops, the sound is kind of like the sound your baby made with it had a stuffy nose. But last night I caught myself just stirring as my wife began to cough. My mind wasn’t as engaging as her distress became greater. That unmistakable noise has become my newest Train.

The mind is an amazing device that the ‘Man Upstairs’ has blessed us with. It’s ability to adapt to how we use it astonishes me every day. I shared that observation with Suzanne this morning as we were preparing for the day. I told her I’m concerned that at some point, I won’t even awaken during her nighttime issues. The easiest solution I gave her was to just give me a good ‘wack’ to get me in gear if I don’t wake.

But as for trains, them I’m not blessed with. Hearing the pipes bang in the walls at night or the doors of the house rattle, you would think we live on the San Andreas Fault. I can only assume my good friends that live closer to the tracks have velcro on the bottom of their dishes at the dinner table.

Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.
Colossians 3:2