We will carry you there

One of the things I've enjoyed doing for myself is running. I'm not setting out to win any marathons, it's only recreational. Honestly though, it's always been more than that. It's an escape. I don't have to think about what chore needs to be done next. There's no one asking me questions. My playlist is customized to whatever I need to hear that day.
But always when I run, I hit a proverbial wall little more than halfway through. I have two options at this point - push through or take it easy. If you know me, you know there's very little take it easy about me. So push is the only real option.
When I would reach that push point, my body would take over, even if it was just going through the motions. Shortly after that, there was a euphoria I felt as my body released the adrenaline & endorphins I needed to reach the end. And I would finish, victoriously.
Thirteen weeks ago our family set out on a new marathon. Caring for gma has been a race that none of us have thoroughly enjoyed to be quite honest. Watching her slowly slip away has caused a litany of emotions none of us had experienced to this degree for this amount of time. There have been plenty of times we needed a push from each other and the voices of those who have cheered us on from a distance. But this is not our race, it is gma's. We are her supporters.
Things took a definite turn last Thursday. Sitting here today, I can tell you I couldn't have imagined being in this place. Gma, the gma we know, is now gone to us. She is now blind. Her body remains, struggling for each breath she takes in, but for the most part it is simply the mechanics of life we are now watching. And for that, our hearts grieve.
But something amazing happened, at least for me, last night. We've attempted to keep as much routine as possible for her. Sunday morning when she was moaning, I asked her who she was talking to, she said, "Chrissy." I said, "Oh. Yes, Chrissy comes on Mondays to do bible study with you." She replied, "And Krista."
So last night, because she still hears us,  Chrissy and Krista opened their bibles & read to her. Mike had brought dinner & we were all there. Ever since gma moved 12yrs ago, my family has done every birthday, every family dinner with momma & daddy at gma's so she could be a part. Last night felt oddly "normal".
Then after everyone left, when it was just momma, daddy, Mike & I, momma & I set about getting her "ready for bed". We've ended every night with momma sitting on the left side of the bed, I on the right, holding her hands & saying our goodnights. (Sounds a little Walton-ish, doesn't it?) I was completely taken by surprise when momma began talking. She sounded so upbeat, so happy after such a emotionally draining day.
"Momma, it was such a beautiful day today. Everyone is doing so well..." I listened as my momma went through the entire list of family members & recounted the highlights of God's faithfulness. (which I can share with them independently) "....and Jeffrey starts work in the morning. Momma! God have him a job! So see momma? God's answered your prayers. It is ok. We're going to be ok. God is taking care of us. So you can go home & rest now. You can talk to Jesus face to face. You can tell daddy all about us and hold those babies you never got to hold. Momma, it's ok." Then without so much as a break in her voice, my momma said, "I love you momma." and gma smiled. Of course I was sobbing uncontrollably by this time. I took a very long deep breath and said, "I love you Mawmaw." She smiled again.
Then as if someone had opened a window, the fog was cleared. The heaviness was gone. There was a peace, the peace I've been so anxiously awaiting & anticipating.  Now it was the peace that was overwhelming me.
I've never felt anything like that before. Ever. No words I type would ever be able to express to you how very deeply and widely I felt it. None.
This morning I sat on her bed and took her hand once again, "Mawmaw, can you see it?" I asked with great anticipation. "I can see it. I can see the finish line! You're almost there. We're going to hold your hands and carry you right up to Jesus. Then when we let go, He's going to take your hands and carry you the rest of the way. We're right here with you." I know she heard me. She moaned again.
As I look at the familiar face in that bed, I see my gma, blind & confined to a bed. But when I close my eyes, I see her open her eyes again to the sight of the Savior she lived her life for. I see her dancing. I can see her singing.
It is with great honor I will carry her through until her race is done. I don't know why my momma & my aunts deemed me so worthy of this honor. I'll never be able to tell them thank you enough for all I've learned or the precious memories they've allowed me to have. So together, we will all carry her victoriously right up to the finish line where her Jesus is waiting.

A legacy of lasts and laughter

Last night was perhaps the hardest night so far in the journey God is guiding us through. By 2am I could still not find the sleep I so desperately needed. I'm not really sure how long I laid in bed waiting, just waiting. My mind wouldn't let me sleep because I knew the sooner I slept the sooner the possibility of that early morning phone call would come. The phone call I had been dreading so much. I woke several times & sat straight up in the bed, sure I had heard the creak of gma's bed. I know I heard her call my name once. But I didn't. How could I? I was in my bed and she was a football field away.
The morning finally came & Brian just held me tightly as I cried, still unsure of how the morning would unfold. My heart sank when my phone buzzed at me. I rolled over & read the words "She's still asleep" at 9am.
I've thought over the past few months how truly fragile life is. We treat it oh so flippantly. Each night our fear takes over as we each dread leaving, knowing that smile, that prayer whispered in our ear could be the last.
With babies we celebrate every first that they have. The first smile. The first roll. The first step. In my strange family, even the first poo-poo in the potty has been celebrated with a call to daddy & Mawmaw.
Yet even with my babies, there has been the sting of each last. The last time they need help bathing. The last time they sleep with their favorite night-night. The last time I heard my little boys voices as puberty hit.
It's been two weeks since gma had a shower. I rushed through my errands that morning & got back to her house at 945 but it was still too late. She & momma had already done it as the plans for the day had changed. Even that night momma said something to me about wondering if that would be the last and the hurt her heart felt at the realization. It was indeed the last.
But even as we find ourselves in a season of lasts, there is laughter. The snarky grey headed woman in that bed finds it funny when we jump at her every move. She lays there with her eyes closed most of the time now, with a smile on her face, repeating the words, "Thank you Jesus. Thank you Jesus." Then she says, "More ice..." and squishes her mouth at you so all you can do is laugh with tears streaming down your face.
Her thoughts get crossed between the time they leave her brain and reach her mouth but she ALWAYS goes back to her default - Thank you Jesus. Thank you Jesus. Thank you Jesus. Soon, there will be a last time I hear those sweet words with that voice. Soon her voice, to my ears, will be silent.
I would be lying if I told you there wasn't a sense of dread to that statement. As hard as it is to see her like this, to know we've each prayed for a relief to her suffering, it is equally hard to know that when the relief comes, she will be gone to us.
BUT that's not the only sense I have right now either. There is also a sense of anticipation of the complete peace & joy that will come. Maybe not immediately. Maybe not even for days or weeks to come. But it is coming & I know it. That is how God is sustaining me for now.
So as I take each long stride on the short walk from her house to mine, wondering if this time will be the last, I will remember her words to me last night, "I'm not done with the race yet. I will run and keep fighting." I will keep in mind that the last time my ears hear her say, "Thank you Jesus" will be immediately before He hears them in person for the first time and gives her her crown of glory to top that beautiful grey hair. And that is what we will celebrate. 
That is her legacy.

It's not going to be ok

Perhaps one of the greatest lessons I learned as an adult was as a young minister's wife. It was my first year to direct Vacation Bible School & the weekend before we were in full on decorating mode. I spent a lot of time that weekend with a dear woman who was about my momma's age & had just the summer before buried her only child. Being a natural listener, I spent most of that weekend silent, gleaning all the wisdom that I could.
She talked about her son & I eagerly listened. I too was the mother of an only son at the time. She talked about the happy times & plans that they had had for his future. She talked about the horrible bacteria that invaded his brain & body in such a short time. She talked about the whirlwind days that followed & the outpouring of love she & her husband experienced. And it was then that she cautioned me, "Never tell someone you understand what they're going through. Every circumstance is different & while you maybe able to identify with them to a degree, no loss is ever the same. I find myself wanting to tell people that share how much it hurt when they lost their mother, father, brother, that they have no idea what I'm going through. They just don't know."
I took her words to heart & to this day have never once uttered the words, "I understand." to anyone, in any circumstance. I've thought about all the platitudes we offer when perhaps it is just best to remain silent. "They're in a better place" and "You'll be together again one day" are things we say when we just don't know what to say. But my most hated platitude is "It will be ok".
"It will be ok" implies that you have some foreknowledge of what the future holds. It implies that the current suffering is supposed to be somewhat less because it will soon end. It implies that the loss that will be incurred won't forever leave a scar on the heart of the one standing before you in tears. It implies the current hurt has no eternal significance.
The truth is it will not be ok. Life here on Earth will never have the same richness that it does when you have to say goodbye to a loved one. I will not be merely ok.
So when you ask me how things are going & in one breath I answer you, "My brother lost his job & has been without work for 5 months. My 87yr old gma is struggling with the treatment for her pneumonia to the point that her eyesight & heart are being seriously affected. It's excruciating to watch my 92yr old gma fight to wake up in the morning & throughout the day with nausea & pain that bare her no relief. And my aunt, my second momma's, battle with terminal metastasized breast cancer has now reached the point that they're pulling in the big guns in hopes of stabilizing the ravenous toll the cancer is taking on her body." DO NOT TELL ME EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OK.
Please, just take me by the hand & tell me the truth, "It's not going to be ok. But it's going to be exactly what God has planned. I have no words to offer but instead my silent arms will be right here." Tell me stories of my gmas & my aunt. Tell me how much they mean to you. Let me know that you grieve too. When I need it, let me stand in the corner silently while you carry on conversations without me so that I'm not alone but don't have to engage either. And when I burst into tears of deep soul-felt sadness, gently wrap your arms around me & patiently wait until I can gather the strength to move on.
"For I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able." Yes, ultimately, the truth is it will be far better than ok one sweet day but for now, it just hurts too much to hear you say it.

The day the hummingbirds flew away

One of things that's brought the biggest joy to my family lately is the migration of the hummingbirds. Living in southeast Texas, the annual trek southward to Mexico for these beautiful, delicate birds runs right through our yards, our porches & right past our windows. At gma's, two feeders have ensured we'd have plenty to watch as twenty or more of these juveniles would attempt to crowd around seven small plastic yellow flowers & take in as much syrupy goodness as they could before continuing onward. But after they are done, after they have had their fill, migration is the natural process that follows.
Today, I noticed there were no hummingbirds when I got there. Gma & momma told me that there have been a few today but for the most part, they are gone.
Today, I also noticed something else. That breathtaking smile that has met me there in that room is getting weaker. Today, it was much more forced than it has been. As I sat on her bed, she took my hand & told me how tired she was, how much pain she's in, how the nausea never completely went away today. Her purpose here is nearing an end. She's had a full, joy filled, life and this is the natural process.
Every night it grows harder & harder to leave her side. Tonight was exceptionally hard. Bedtime routine went by without a single hitch. She was stronger than she had been all day. There was very little pain & no dry heaves for the first time in weeks. The five of us (gma, momma, daddy, Buster, and I) sat laughing & having a good time when suddenly the nausea came back & the dry heaves revisited. They didn't last as long but the after effect did.
I have to admit I was suffering from a little bit of jealousy as momma & she sat there holding hands while I just sat on the floor beside the bed. But just as if God himself had whispered in her ear, she tapped the bed with her free hand & I took hold for dear life. I laid my head on the bed, staring at that beautiful old, wrinkled hand that was squeezing mine just as it had when I was a little girl. I watched her mouth the words to the radio - Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of his glory and grace.
We sat there for what seemed like eternity, though I know it was only thirty minutes. A couple of times momma & I traded glances, both of us sure she was asleep but neither of us ready to let go. She was holding tightly to our hands as if she still needed us to be there with her. I found myself breathing the same pattern that she was & realized how quickly my lungs were gasping for air. Her mouth fell open like it always does when she's deep in sleep & her hands began to twitch. Still, neither of us was going to make the first move. She slowly opened her eyes & told us both to go, she would be ok & was ready to sleep now. Reluctantly we both conceded, kissed her on the cheek, hugged her one more time & told her we'd see her in the morning.
There's nothing about this process that's easy. Watching her suffer through nausea & pain on a daily basis is sometimes more than I can bare but everyday I am faced with the reality that this will too soon come to an end. Just like the hummingbirds that temporarily buzzed around her window until their purpose here was done, she too will make a migration of her own. She's just passing through. This is not her home & how selfish would I be to want her to stay one day longer than it took for her purpose to be fulfilled.

There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens.....a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.

I want to laugh. I want to dance. And I will - WHILE I'm weeping & mourning because I'll always remember the night the hummingbirds flew away.

Love, dreams & the Aurora Borealis

I'm just a simple person. Simple hope. Simple dreams. Simple life. There's nothing that's extraordinary about me really. But there is this one dream I've had as long as I can remember. It is to see The Northern Lights.
I've always loved nature & star gazing. I can make all kinds of shapes with the stars. But those colors. They inspire such beauty & awe deep within me that I relish the day I might actually get to see them.
This year we celebrate 20 years of wedded, uh, togetherness. To tell you that all of those years together had been blissful would be a complete lie. I can tell you however that I love my husband more today than I did yesterday although not as much as I will tomorrow. When you get married at 21 & 18, you most certainly will make mistakes, you tend to be a little selfish & you will argue about the dumbest things. But, if you are committed to each other, you will grow up together & learn what to let go of, when to give in a little & how to love each other with a love that will endure the trials you face.
At the climax of those trials for us, my husband left for a few days to find a place where he felt safe. That place was with MY gma. Since that time they've had this unbreakable bond & she's loved him as one of her very own. She's been one of his most vocal cheerleaders, encouragers & prayer warriors. Countless times I've been woken up by her early morning phone to him just to say, "I love you & I'm praying for you today." Like the rest of us, she pulls him closer, hugs him tighter & reminds him of his eternal identity - Brian, never forget who you are. You are a child of The King.
When gma fell then, it came as no surprise as to where he wanted me to be - with her as he would hold the fort down at home. With a physically demanding job, he has come home after 10-12 hour days in the heat to be mom AND dad because he loves her that much. He loves my momma that much. He loves me that much. He's freely & without complaint given up not one week of vacation but two. Which brings us back to The Aurora......
His intent in scheduling his vacation last October was that we go & celebrate our 20th anniversary in Alaska this week because September is the beginning of Aurora season. He knew that has been my one dream, the one thing I've always wanted to do. Now though, because of circumstances beyond our control he knows that just isn't possible right now. He doesn't love me just enough to live my dreams with me, he loves me enough to hold onto my dreams ever so patiently as every night he holds me close, dries my tears & reminds me of what true love really is. Sacrifice.
Sacrifice comes naturally to no one. Who would tell their stay at home homeschooling wife - Sure, I have been in the heat all day, the house looks like a bomb went off in it & the kids are driving me nuts within the first 5 minutes of being home but I want you to go to your gma's every evening until after I've fed them, gotten them ready for the next day & put them in bed. I'll do the laundry & clean the kitchen. On my week of vacation I'll take the kids to their outside classes & run errands & pick up the groceries so that you can stay home & do something you enjoy. By the way, you look beautiful (with day old clothes on, my hair more in my face than in my pony tail & sweat soaking every inch of my body because I enjoy mowing the yard).....?!?!
The answer is not Prince Charming. He's someone much greater. He is my husband. And no matter what has come, he HAS ALWAYS loved me AND my family. I'm just now beginning to realize exactly how much.

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church & gave himself for her....Ephesians 5:25

The well worn path of providence

There's a path from my house to gma's house. Of course, there's been one since she moved 12 years ago. But never has it seen so much foot traffic as it has the past 6 weeks. 6 weeks! Tomorrow marks 6 weeks since she fell. Tomorrow marks 6 weeks of all hands on deck, an increase in phone calls & texts & visits. Tomorrow marks 6 weeks of "One more day Lord. Please just one more day."
Brian was on vacation the week gma fell so my schedule was a lot freer than it would normally be with him playing the role of both mom & dad.
The kids & I installed our own "fairy lights" to mark the path only a few days after she fell. It wasn't stuff that we had to run out & purchase but rather some scrap poles & the solar lights we use for vacation. It's come in very handy for the evening ride home with daddy.
The fact that we homeschool has come in pretty handy too. We don't typically start until the Tuesday following Labor Day which meant, again, that my schedule was a little freer.
There's an exhaustion though that comes with care giving that can't be understood until you walk in those shoes. It goes beyond the mental & physical to the deep emotional & spiritual fiber of your being. You begin to feel detached from the rest of the world, consumed at all times by loving this person with all that you have in the precious moments you know you have left together. You begin to run empty, as if you have nothing left to give at times. My prayer as of late has become more along the lines of "One more moment Lord. Please just one more moment." Only this time, it's not just a prayer for gma but a prayer for my own strength as well. 
Gma's house is about a football field away yet when I step foot out the back gate, the journey looks & feels like it will never end. My thighs burn, my head pounds, my arms feel heavier than they've ever been before. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I sing. But all the time I pray. Then, just as my body feels it's about to give out, something miraculous happens. I reach the first landing of gma's back stairs & there is a renewed energy & strength just when I need it most. It's not my strength that carries me up the rest of the way in through that back door, ready to face the beautiful smile that awaits me laying in that hospital bed.
But perhaps, today I needed just a small reminder of God's providence. After a very emotional & tear filled day yesterday, I was woken up, unsurprised, by my friend, Mr Migraine. I took some medicine, kissed my family goodbye & put on Pandora.
One of my absolute favorite songs is "Give Me Jesus" by Jeremy Camp. I want nothing more when I leave this world than to be remembered for my love for him so that my children will say, "No matter what was going on, no matter what storms or trials came, my momma ALWAYS wanted nothing more than Jesus." In fact, they all four know that it IS to be sung at my funeral.
What was the first song that played? Yes. 

In the morning, when I rise.
In the morning, when I rise.
In the morning, when I rise.
Give me Jesus.

Of course the day went on and Gma was very fretful today. (That's completely normal when your daughter is in the hospital & you can't go to her though.) The manifestation of that fret is pain & nausea in an already feeble body. But as soon as we got her settled, as soon as the dry heaves were gone, as soon as the pain lightened up, & she closed her eyes & began to fall asleep, what did I hear coming from her radio?

When I am alone,
Oh when I am alone,
Oh when I am alone,
Give me Jesus.
(Tears)
Give me Jesus.
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world.
Give me Jesus.

Immediately I knew. Providence. God provided a doctor for my aunt that loves her beyond a typical patient and would come see her late on a Saturday night. He provided safe travel home for my daddy & uncle. He provided this next week of a scheduled vacation for my husband last year in October. He provided a week of vacation when gma fell & lights for my nightly trip home & a flexible education schedule for my family & a big brother who makes football practice runs everyday. He provided me with the opportunity to sing this song, not once, but twice today. He continues to provide & fill us with that one more moment of strength that we, as a family, need during this time when we all feel broken, poured out & empty. It comes no sooner than he has laid out, but it NEVER comes too late.
With a renewed gratefulness & tears running down my face, I stood at gma's bedside, watched her place her hand on momma's knee & I sang the last verse.

When I come to die,
When I come to die,
Oh when I come to die,
Give me Jesus.

The afternoon my daughter taught me to Chasse

Girls are SO very different than boys. My poor Piggy ended up with the short end of the stick when it came to girl moms. I loathe shopping, I can't do hair, I know nothing about fashion, I never wear makeup or jewelry and I certainly can't dance. Most days I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with this pink bundle that was given to my care 9yrs ago. But she's always wanted to dance.
Enter Ms Stacey! Ms Stacey entered our lives at the perfect time. Although it was through soccer with our boys, she has become one of my closest friends, biggest prayer warriors & now my Piggy's awesome ballet teacher & encourager.
Last night when Pigs was trying to learn how to Chasse, she caught a glimpse of her daddy & I giggling in the mirror. Try explaining to a 9yrs old that you weren't laughing at her but at the movement her body was making & you'll quickly find there is very little difference. She was devastated. But God immediately gave Ms Stacey the words to say. I however am still devastated that my actions cut my precious mini so deeply. Still to the point of tears. How could I be so absent minded?
But because our children love us unconditionally, she's forgiven me. She's moved ahead & hopefully both of us have learned from this. Pigs has learned that there are going to be times when momma lets you down. There will be times when momma will come to you & beg for your forgiveness. There will be times when you have to forgive your own momma. And me? It is the reminder that I still have the ability to break a part of my own, tiny, independently beating heart through my careless actions BUT my children, all children, love more like God than we could ever give them credit. Their love for us is deep & real & eternally unconditional. Maybe THIS is what Jesus meant when he said to come to him like a little child. Thankfully because he's a much better parent than I'll ever be I'll never feel that devastation of being let down.