I waited twenty three years

I met my sister in a hospital delivery room. Ironically, it was me in the bed, waiting to give birth.
Yep, laying in a hospital bed with one of those fashionable open to the back gowns, connected to an IV pole & a baby monitor was, in my brother's mind, the optimal time to finally let me meet this new girl he had been dating.
As weird as it was for me, my mind was a little preoccupied but that poor 17yrs old girl who walked into my room was a little more than weirded out. Perhaps it wasn't one of my brother's best choices but it has given us both a story to tell of a relationship I had waited 23yrs to begin. A relationship typified by meeting in a hospital delivery room for the first time.
Having grown up with two brothers & hanging out with predominately guys my whole life, the hole that had existed was quickly filled by this equally tomboyish, no drama or frills, female who instantly became the sister I had been waiting for.
That day, she became known as Aunt ReeRee as my children would have to call her something, right?
Fifteen years of memories swirl in my mind & bleed over into one another but as I was on my way to her house yesterday for our annual sister day, the one day a year these two non-shoppers shop for everything Christmas, the recent memories made overwhelmed me. I cried all the way to her house, a fact I'm sure she was aware of from the streaks of missing makeup when I walked through the door.
My sister loves her family so much that this fall she rearranged her entire schedule to fill in, as needed, with a grandmother who loved her & prayed for her by name, even before she knew what that name was. Sister spent every day she had off providing relief & care to someone, that by today's standards, she didn't have to, a grandmother-in-law.  She would work all day on Mondays then spend each Monday evening with gma, doing a bible study with her, trying to glean all the wisdom she could fit in before we would have to say goodbye. Really though, she was NEVER a granddaughter-in-law, but a granddaughter by all meanings of the word.
As I drove to her house yesterday, I cried because I missed gma. I cried because I wanted to pick up the phone & call her & hear her calming reassurance. Then I cried because I realized that God had given me someone who shared similar experiences this fall & whose heart was broken, just like mine. I cried because I knew as soon as I saw my sister, there would be a peace, a comfort in being with someone who understood where I was because she was there too. I cried because I knew she would talk about gma with me & we would laugh about the snarky things she would say. I cried because I know she'll do it all over again with me when the time comes.
She is my sister. And she was worth the wait.

Today I realized - I don't really like my kids

When I was a little girl, I had one real dream. There was only ever one thing I wanted to do - be a stay at home mom, just like my momma. With four children & the opportunity to homeschool, that dream has come to pass. I hear all the time - I don't know how you do it, I don't have the patience. But what those people don't know is - NEITHER DO I!
Spending all day, day in & day out, with your children causes even the smallest of things to grate on your nerves, at times, like nails on a chalkboard. Add to that a little bit of defiance & a whole lot of disobedience & you have a recipe for a complete & total meltdown.
(Now, before you get this picture of my kids that paints them as little heathens running around all the time with war paint & feathers in their caps, know that we have a very high standard. Still, as all children do, they take advantage of every opportunity they can to push the boundaries & make sure they're still in place.)
Tuesday was my meltdown. Upon arriving to biology, a 20 minute drive from home, it was discovered that, "I forgot my folder (of stuff that was due today) on my bed (AT HOME!)." Forgetfulness & distractions with this particular child are over the top right now but that's a different blog for a different day. What was I to do? Let him take 5 zeroes in a class he's already struggling in? No.
The tears began in the parking lot before the car was even in reverse. "I can't take anymore of this! I hate it. I don't like y'all very much. And I don't even want to be around you." I sobbed as I flipped on the blinker after safely depositing the bio kid.
I fumbled for the cord to connect my phone & escape in my music. My mind kept mulling over & over all of the times my children would say that they loved me then turn around & treat me like they had. I thought about the times when they would sneak YouTube videos instead of the book they were supposed to be reading or that paper they were supposed to be typing. I thought about all the undone chores I would complete & the broken toilet seat from standing on it. I thought about the piles of laundry diligently folded only to end up on their bedroom floors. I thought about arguing & fighting over who's bracelet that was, even though it came out of the dumpster at church. I thought about my newly ordered, never used, now broken Tardis coffee mug. No wonder I didn't like them.
As the tears kept falling & the music kept playing, "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" began with a soft piano playing. In a time when I didn't think I could cry any harder, my shoulders began heaving as I heard a voice begin to speak.
(Great is Thy Faithfulness, O God, my Father. There is no shadow of turning with Thee. Thou changest not; Thy compassions, they fail not. As thou hast been, Thou forever will be.)
"My children do the same thing to Me. But you're really nothing like Me, ya know? You want what's best for them but when your children are disobedient & defiant, what's the first thing you want to do? Run away. You allow their behavior to dictate your own so much that right now, you're really nothing like Me. I want you to be more like Me. Let Me show you how."
And there it was. My analysis of my pity party & the truth I needed to hear all in one. As He often does, God was using my children (& their behavior) to show me what I needed to change. The truth is my current state of martyrdom is laced with impatience, mood swings, very little compassion & a lack of self discipline. As equally as my children's behavior failed to reflect God's character, so did my own.
Desperately needing a break, I spent that afternoon with momma at gma's house. I sat on the floor in front of gma's chair like I had countless times before only this time it was my momma that sat in that chair & listened to me. And cried with me. And reminded me, again, of God's faithfulness.
For my children, reflecting God's faithfulness and mercy means a zero tolerance policy & strict discipline right now. Just as God has done countless times for His own children, Jesus reminds us that He disciplines those He loves. In doing so, He saves them from themselves. Discipline is an act of mercy. So I HAVE TO step up the discipline as an act of love before they get out of hand & fall further into this trap of sneakiness, disobedience & defiance. No more yelling. No more pity parties over having to be the one to do this. No more martyrdom. This is part of my job, my dream job, even though it's the part I hate the most.
For me, God's faithfulness looked a little different than I thought it would after my revelation that morning as my 19yr old pulled me aside before he went to bed with tears in his eyes - "Mom, I heard what you said to Mawmaw today. It was hard for me to listen to you tell her that you're not like God at all. I honestly wanted to run over & shake you. I've had a lot of time the past few weeks to think about some things & one of the things I've thought about is you & dad. How I wouldn't have asked for any other parents. How if I could have picked my own, I would have picked you & dad. You are more like God than you think you are."
As it turns out, I don't like 3 of my children very much right now. And that's ok. Because of the discipline that must follow, they aren't going to like me either. But just like with the oldest, I love them always. I discipline them because I love them.
So that night, after a broken heart, not only the result of my children's actions, but also of my own, God used my oldest to remind me how great His faithfulness is because he sees me for who I long to be. And because he was once their age too.

A different kind of thankfulness

This morning my car wouldn't start. Yep, the day before Thanksgiving with errands to run, I woke up early to get to town & back before the crowds. But there it was, another reminder of just how much fun life is right now. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty to be thankful for but it's become increasingly difficult over the past few weeks to gaze into the darkness & look for the light, any light.
This isn't me. This isn't who I am, who I've always been. I used to think I was a pragmatist, seeing things in a very practical way so as not to make them more than what they are. I'm definitely not a pessimist, that much is true. But I never viewed myself as much of an optimist either. It's become apparent to me that perhaps what I have always been would be best described as a hope-timist.
As life has rolled on, I would see things as they were but could ALWAYS see Hope in any situation. I could easily spot God's goodness & find rest there. But with life changing so fast, in so many unpleasant ways, that Hope I had always spotted seemed almost like a dream of years gone by, becoming harder & harder to spot as the days roll on.
I picked up the phone & called daddy. "Yes, it seems as though the battery is bad.....Yes, you can use mom's car when she gets back." But then, the plan suddenly changed. I would ride with momma to gma's house, take her car while she took gma to the Dr in gma's van, then come back to pick her up. There it was in a tiny measure - Hope.
But then as I knelt down beside her van to lift gma's legs to get her safely seated, my hope was dashed again. The long term steroid treatment for the pneumonia has caused a dramatic change in not only her appearance but also her physical abilities. I gently cupped her foot and carefully placed it inside the van. Flashbacks of the journey recently traveled flooded my mind, then my eyes. I don't want to do this again. I'm just not ready.
I cried all the way to town but found solace when "Be Still My Soul" began to play over the radio. I listened, NO REALLY LISTENED, to the words this time like never before. 

"Be still my soul, the Lord is on your side. Bear patiently the cross of grief and pain." Oh man, the cross of grief and pain - check! I've got that one down pat! The whirlwind of storms that are raging right now, threatening with every wave to draw me under, are my present, everyday, every moment reality. I'm bearing it buddy. That Hope that I've always seen, I've always heard beckoning to me, is being drown out by even the simplest of things at this point. An overflowing toilet caused me to have a sobbing-so-badly-you-can't-catch-your-breath breakdown Monday. Right now, I'm not bearing much patiently either. I want this grieving thing to be over. I want to move on to the happy, fluffy clouds and cute bunnies part of life - like yesterday!

"Leave to thy God to order and provide, in EVERY change he faithful will remain." There is no doubt that life is changing. At 38yrs old, I have found myself in roles that I never would have envisioned, doing things I never wanted to do. At times I feel more like a fourth daughter than a granddaughter. Recently walking one gma right up to the finish line through the loss of her physical, mental and emotional abilities has left me with memories - some pleasant that I would not change for anything, but others that bring back floods of tears for the things that we had to do for her, to her. The yelling, the hitting, the accusations were only temporary but their memory drowns out my hope sometimes. I'm in a place now where I'm pumping myself up to face it again, sooner than I would like. That drowns out my hope too. Still, I am disciplining myself now to intentionally look for God's goodness, His order, His provision, his faithfulness when mine is waning. The beautiful fall leaves changing. The phone call made at the perfect, God ordered, time this morning. The opportunity to humbly and lovingly lift gma's feet today. God is so faithful through it all, even if it's harder for me to see it at times.

"Be still my soul, your best, your heavenly Friend. Through stormy waves leads to a joyful end." To be completely honest, I've started this particular blog over six times in two weeks. I realized this morning why. I'm not looking forward to tomorrow at all. Thanksgiving has ALWAYS been my favorite holiday. Because of my Hope-timist personality, I've found it rather simple to ALWAYS find something to be thankful for but this year I'm struggling. Yes, I'm thankful for a house and food and transportation, but that's not the sum total of what I've typically thankful for. With stormy waves crashing all around me, my focus has been broken. My gaze has been set into the darkness, wanting, praying, begging for a light. Yet week after week, I've continued faking right along that everything is ok, that I'm ok. But I'm not. 

Like medicine to my soul, my friend Stacey sent me a blog a few weeks ago though. I've referred back to it many times, probably more than any other blog I've read. SheReadsTruth had a blog series about hymns. "Be Still My Soul" was one of those. (http://shereadstruth.com/2015/11/11/be-still-my-soul/) It was through that blog that I learned, "Even in the most joyful tones of life, as in music, the space between the notes is just as important as the notes themselves......If space is a kind of loss, the comfort of the stanza is this: like notes on a page, we ought submit ourselves to receive the notes themselves (like joy) and the space between the notes (like loss) before God." Loss. That's all I've been able to focus on lately. Bearing that cross of grief and pain. And the idea of submitting or turning myself over for anything, especially more pain & grief, right now is simply overwhelming. (Did I tell you that I don't want to do this again?????)

But it was the end of the version of "Be Still My Soul" that caught me up short. Selah ends their version with the end of the first verse from "What A Friend We Have In Jesus" - "Oh what peace we often forfeit. Oh what needless pain we bear. All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer." This is my storm, my pain, my grief. I don't want to share with anyone. I've been bobbing in these storms for weeks, virtually alone, isolating myself, by choice, because I am afraid of what is coming next, be it small and simple or completely life altering. I am afraid that I'll never be able to just see God's goodness when I look around like I used to. I'm afraid I will have to be disciplined to do this for a long time to come. I'm afraid that this is the new me, serious and melancholy. And I don't like this me. I'm weary already. But then - 

Be still my soul, the Lord is on your side. Look at the peace you're forfeiting. Look at the needless pain you're bearing. All because you refuse to carry everything to God in prayer. I know now what I must do.

Today, I am truly thankful for a car that wouldn't start. I'm thankful for precious moments with gma and the awesome privilege of walking her through this new journey. I'm thankful for the yelling out, the hitting, the accusations because they all made gma more real to me. They helped me realize the depth of love that I had for her, a love that will always remain, like my faithful Friend. I'm trying to be thankful for the spaces. But I am thankful for a life that isn't easy because it causes me to grow. I'm thankful that I'm not who I used to be as much as I'm thankful that He's not done with me yet. I'm thankful that the stormy waves truly do lead to a joyful end.

Thank you Jesus.

Thank you Jesus for Hope.

Learning life's most precious lessons

Tonight there is a tiny twinge of anxiousness at our house. No, the kids are fine. It's me.
This year marks the fifteenth year we've been homeschooling. Surely in those fifteen years I've gotten things down to a fine science of routine & discipline, right? No. Just as each child is different, each year has presented new challenges & opportunities. This year it was "How does school work when you're caregiving?" The answer I've come up with is "One day at a time".
We've always waited until after Labor Day to start our formal educating periods. (I'm pretty sure it's the rebel in me.) This year, that day fell much later than usual, the latest it possibly could, September 8. Because of the whirlwind of activity in August, I wasn't as prepared as I typically am. Missing workbooks & a lack of supplies took its toll on our glorious beginning. Football season was in full swing, which also caused us to have setbacks.
Many of our days were spent running from this outside class to that, checking on gma, yelling & crying about completing work during the precious few hours I had with my children, then ending with football practice for our middle guy with the two youngest in the care of their oldest brother until dad could get home while I was with gma & momma. Distractions were at a premium. We muddled through, each miserable in our own right, five weeks of work. Then there was October.
October changed everything. There was this one week, the week of October 4. My aunt started chemo that week. My cousin's little guy got sick. That Wednesday stands out as the day everything changed. It was the last day my kids got any schoolwork done.
I had hit rock bottom. The overwhelming responsibility I have as their sole educator engulfed me. I can't tell you how many times I simply broke down in hopeless despair that my children, you know, the ones I stay at home for, were getting the short end of the stick.
But it was also the day momma had issued an ultimatum - Go have tea with Susan or I'll call her for you myself.
You see, God placed Susan in my life six years ago in my Bible study small group. It was my first year there. I was in a place that I desperately needed to learn to trust people again. For Susan, it was the year they pulled their girls out of school to homeschool AND the year her father passed away. She, along with her mom, were his primary caregivers. Our friendship quickly grew.
When you homeschool, people watch you very closely. Because of this, there is an added pressure to perform. If anyone knew what I was struggling with in this school year, it was her. So I relented. I had basically begged her for our Wednesday morning tea time at McDonald's.
That morning she sat with me, listened to my concerns, cried with me, loved on me then gently placed her hand on mine & spoke one word - Stop. Stop trying to perform. Stop trying to do it all. Stop trying to live as if life is normal right now. She told me about days, even weeks, when they would just pile up in the bed to enjoy each other & watch movies together. She reminded me that the education her girls got during that time could never be rivaled by any book learning they could have done. I know her two precious girls & I can vouch for the fact that they are both amazing young ladies who are full of love & compassion rarely seen in young ladies their age. They didn't suffer at all academically for the time they chose to just live life. Then she referenced a verse from Joel about God restoring the years the locusts striped away. And that was it. That was what I had so desperately needed to hear. The tears faded away, the clouds of doom began to part & hope began to grow deep inside me.
I listened to Joel 2 on the way to my aunt's house that afternoon. The absolute destruction God's people faced could only be restored by a gracious & compassionate God who is slow to anger & abounds in love. He saw their situation & he took pity on them. He would send them not just enough, but enough to satisfy them FULLY. They never need to be ashamed again.
We put the schoolwork away that afternoon. We enjoyed every single second we could learning life lessons over the next two and a half weeks. We spent every moment we could with the great grandmother who lived next door that my children have never known life without. I regret NOTHING! Just as God used that time in my life to shape who I am, he will use it in their lives too, in who they will become.
So after two weeks of a break from everything following gma's victorious finish, we will start formal schooling again tomorrow. I know there will be bumps. I know there will be kinks. It will be almost like our first day of 2015.
But true to his character, Saturday morning as I sat on the floor in a room full of women who are far more godly than I, he gave me something more. Something to satisfy me until I was full. As I listened to them tell God who he had been in their lives that week, I heard one word - Teacher. All of the things I've learned since July, all of the lessons so diligently taught - he was teaching my children then too. So tonight as I log off, I will take hold of that Teacher's hand with the calm reassurance that tomorrow morning & in the mornings that follow, I will merely facilitate that teaching. He's taught their hearts, now I will assist in the progress of their minds.

What every caregiver wants to tell you

Every once in a while I'll jot my thoughts down without any spiritual lesson, no neat bow, as you would, to tie things up. Feel free to act on whatever lesson you learn after reading this blog because there will be none applied. Please know that this is NOT the result of any conversations I've had. I've been mulling some of it over for a while.

Caregiving has been the hardest journey I've faced in my life. It was harder than pregnancy and childbirth. It was harder than parenting has been. It was even harder than maintaining a somewhat happy marriage. (*wink wink*) (I love you honey!)
I joked a few times about needing a book like "Caregiving for Dummies" to walk us through the little ins & outs of our journey. From things like "Call this agency for (this)" down to the simplest of things like "Dasani lemon water is NOT sweet and therefore does not upset the stomach in times when taste buds have changed. It will act as an excellent mucus cutter." There are plenty of other personal hygiene & medical tips for a book like this but perhaps what caregivers would need the most would be the last chapter. It would probably be entitled - Top Ten Things A Caregiver NEEDS You To Know. So with that, entertain me a while.

10. Telling me you send thoughts and prayers is awesome but it's acts of kindness that speak to my soul. Please, don't misunderstand this. A caregiver NEEDS to hear that you're thinking about and/or praying for them. These words WILL strengthen them. BUT if you really want to meet them where they are, make them dinner, rake their yard, set a lunch date, call and just listen. (Without the countless dinners brought by momma & daddy's Sunday School class, we would not have eaten many a lunch or dinner the past few months.)
9. Don't ask how I'm doing if you don't want me to answer honestly or take the time to listen to my reply. Caregivers have little to no reserved energy. NEVER expect them to simply give you an answer to placate to your flippant "How ya doing?" Then once they've expended the little energy they have answering your question, blowing them off hurts more than walking their journey alone. Remember a simple smile or hug says more than your words can at times.
8. Do NOT say anything about my weight. Yes, the truth is I've lost/gained A LOT of weight but I was trying to survive. I'm conscious of it already & you pointing it out is like rubbing salt in the wound. A diet of M&Ms & string cheese is not typical for me. So know I'm working on it now. Thanks.
7. There are times I just can't engage. Please don't take it personally when I can't pick up the phone to talk or find the clarity to text. It's not that I mean to be offensive. It's not that I'm not thankful. I'm not even angry with you. There are times it takes all my strength to breathe. I'll get back to you once I've figured out how to do that again.
6. I feel like I just finished a marathon. I'm exhausted in every way. Yes, I'm sleeping. I'm sleeping a lot. Some of it is time made up for sleepless nights but some of it is attempting to cope. My physical, mental, emotional and spiritual person is the most fatigued I've ever been in my life. Don't expect me to just pull up my boot straps or put my big girl panties on. I don't have the energy to find either right now.
5. I need to get away. Ok, so while we're being honest there are times I don't answer because I need to escape from this place. There are reminders all around me - a dirty house, laundry piled high, my loved one's dishes brought home to wash - that someone I love is gone. I can not be here right now. Not physically, not mentally, not emotionally. I am hiding sometimes.
4. I will randomly burst into tears. The people at the grocery store seem most alarmed by this one. No, I don't need or want you to do anything. No, please don't touch me unless I initiate the contact. I'm going to cry. I'll do it when I'm happy or when I'm sad. I'll do it when I hear that song or smell that smell. I'll do it when I think, "Oh, my loved one is out of (this). I'll pick it up while I'm here at the grocery store." (Personally, for me, making coffee is the worst. I don't drink it, never have. But I learned how to make it for gma at the beginning of our journey. I could never make coffee again & be just fine.)
3. My world just ended. Ya, that sounds a little melodramatic but hear me out. As a caregiver, my life at home stopped x number of weeks/months ago. My whole world has been consumed with providing hands on care and thinking forward to what is needed or needs to be done for my loved one. While everyone else's world kept spinning, mine was paused. This new world I've been living in for (however long) just ended. It's going to take me a while to learn to live in my old world again.
2. I feel lost. For me, every evening is the worst as it was the consistent time frame that I spent caregiving. Don't get me wrong, there were days in the mix and short trips to find out how each day was going too but evenings were our special time together. My routine is now suddenly gone. What am I to do? I know what I can do. I know what I should do. See #4 again.
1. I am trying. I really am. The number one thing you can do as the family member or friend of a caregiver is be patient. Understand that they really don't understand the place that they're in either. They don't know why they're crying....again. They see the sun & they want to get back out into it but they're afraid. They're afraid that moving on with life means forgetting where they've been, what they've learned, the way things smelled, the way her hand felt. Everyday I do a little more. Everyday I cry a little less. But know that this has forever changed who I am. And while I'm grieving,  I'm trying to get to know me again. It's going to take me a little while but I'll rejoin you as soon as I can. For now, though, if you really love me, love me until I can return.

When we could carry her no more

As hard as the past few months have been, this morning was equally as joyful. In giving love & care to gma, there were some sensitive personal things the men in our lives just couldn't do. They wanted to help and they did in every way they could from fixing dinners & doing double duty at home to grocery shopping & football practice runs. But when it came to literal hands on care, it was momma, my aunts, sister, cousins, Ms Kristy, Michelle and myself.
This morning though, this morning it was the men in Mawmaw's life that carried her tent to its final resting place. When God determined that our turn was over, their turn for hands on care began.
From daddy's nights spent on an air mattress so that momma didn't have to be alone to Uncle Randall's alertness & gentleness in loving my own son through the service. From Josh's amazing eulogy and encouragement that both honored gma AND glorified God to Brian's willingness to lead a worship service like few I've been a part of.
Then at the end, we watched with tears of sadness, amazement, and gratitude as those that had been in the shadows for so long took hold and carried gma the rest of the way. Brian, Caleb, Mike, Jeff, Kendall and Brian gently took hold of the simple, beautiful casket and carried her when we could no longer.
But each of these men have not only carried gma for the past 13wks, they have carried each of us as well through their sacrifices, though they may not have realized it at the time. THAT is love.
Gma often reminded us girls of the verses in Ephesians about submission. Today though, I watched as these men lived out the self sacrificing love the next few verses address for everyone to see.
These amazing men are our protectors, our best friends, our shoulders to cry on, our embrace when we can't take one more step. They smile with us, love with us, cry with us, grieve with us. They will continue to carry us.
For each of them, I could never be thankful enough.

Grief is not a bandaid

To be quite honest with you, last night as I laid in bed, I wondered if I'd ever have the desire to write again. I wondered if the events of the day would affect me to the point that even writing would bring no release, no satisfaction. Life changed yesterday at 537am, a time that will forever be stamped on my mind's eye. I can still see the red numbers on the DVR box as clearly as if I was looking at it now.
537am was the time I got the call. The call I had been dreading for weeks. The call that announced that gma had won her race.
The house phone (yes, we still have one of those because we live in the sticks) has spent its nights tucked away, between my pillow & Brian's for at least a week. With its early morning ring, I knew exactly what to expect on the other end. And yet oddly, the first thought that crossed my mind was, "No regrets. You've lived the past 13 weeks with no regrets." It was no doubt God's comforting voice speaking to me.
I answered. Momma was sobbing. I knew & simply relied, "I'm on my way." I slipped my worn out rubber boots on, reached for the first flashlight I could find, and walked out the back door. Poor Brian was still trying to get dressed as he chased me outside, "Hey, do you want me to come?" "Please."
We walked in silence through the field to gma's. I diligently placed one foot in front of the other as I made my way up the stairs & into the house. I could hear the hymns playing on the cd player, the same ones momma, Erin & I had sung to her the night before. I peeked around the bedroom doorframe, as I have many times over the past 13 weeks. My momma was there, crying. I heard my daddy sniffle, a sound I've heard very few times in my life. I took a step back to compose myself again.
Apparently they saw us. I was in no hurry. Momma needed her time alone. Daddy stepped out a few minutes later & said, "You can come in." Daddy pointed me to the chair beside momma and so I sat down. We listened as she heartbreakingly went through each time she had gotten up during the night. She had given gma medicine at this time & that, almost as if she felt the need to give me a nurse's report. I listened and nodded. She had read from Psalms at 1030 and 230 when gma was fretful. The overpowering authority in God's words had calmed gma during those moments.
I anxiously listened as momma drew closer to the current time. Had God answered my prayer that momma not be in the room at the time? Would she have to live with the memory of that last gasp of air for the rest of her life? Did she have to watch gma struggle to the finish line even more?
She had checked on gma at 510 and had gone to attempt to figure out the day. At 525 she returned to her vigilant post. In God's mercy & grace, he indeed spared my momma from those memories as Jesus had taken gma's hand, just as momma let go, and walked her home. I imagine it was a lot the same way he did Enoch. "You've come so far, let's go on to My house this time."
Honestly for me to tell you about the rest of the morning, it would require me writing a book. The graciousness of God in allowing Laura to literally guide the funeral home to the house, insuring she would get to see gma before she was gone. The graciousness of the funeral directors in not covering her face as she left that house one more time. She was my gma, not just a body they had come to retrieve. My daddy wrapping his arms around me as I tried to busy myself by washing the sheets and doing the dishes. I'm sure no one else knew what to do with me at that point. I just needed to do something. The alertness of my family when my brother got home from work so that I could run to meet my son who works the same shift.
Then there were my babies. I would have to tell them that life had changed. And so, I did. After some time, their response was, "Can we go over there?" With no one in the house, I knew this was the time we needed. We piled up in that creaky, striped down hospital bed and Brian thanked God for Gigi. He thanked God for her unconditional love for us. He thanked God that because of Gigi we know him more. That was what they needed.
I cried myself to sleep on that bed a few minutes later. That was what I needed. Then I waited for the furniture man to come gather the things. The sound of that unplugged oxygen machine was deafening. He was so gracious when he got there though. He could tell I was holding it together as best I could. Every question was answered with a gentle, "Yes ma'am." or "No ma'am. You're fine."
I intentionally fell asleep before dark as the dread of an evening without my routine drew near. I texted Aunt Birdie at 8 with a simple "I love you" which spurred a two hour conversation sitting on gma's front porch as both of us felt lost.
Today, I've managed to walk from my bed to the lazy boy and back countless times. Drifting listlessly. As the evening drew near, momma texted to ask what I was doing. She & daddy were out walking between the four houses. I again slipped my boots on & walked out the backdoor. Together we walked aimlessly around, talking & crying some more. When we were ready, we walked through the backdoor together. There were phone calls still to be made that only gma had numbers for. The front porch light had burned out during the night. There were a few things I needed to grab from the fridge. Then, we locked the doorknob and walked out. We had done it. We had made it back into the house & then back out before the darkness set in. That was also exactly what we needed.
Over the past 36 hours, I've come to hate how I can be perfectly ok one moment and sobbing the next. Strong, then oh so very weak. But this is the way that grieving works. It's not a bandaid we can put on to cover those sudden outbursts of emotions we feel. Nor is it something we can rip off quickly so that the sting is momentary.
Life has changed. I asked my friend today what a care giver is supposed to do when there is no care left to give. This is it. Grieve. Mourn. Sing. Be thankful. Cry. Sleep. The lostness I feel each evening will wain with time. Very slowly, bit by bit, we will do exactly what we feel we can for the day, no more, no less. We are just as dependent on God's faithfulness & strength as we were when we began this journey. He has given us exactly what we needed for each moment and will continue to do so. We will laugh together & tell stories of gma. We will cry together. We will read the online guest book together & marvel at the common thread of "Lived her life for Jesus" in every post. We will take each step in faith that the Love that has never failed us before will not fail us yet.
Know that we cherish each word taken before the throne on our behalf as we live out the groaning in Romans 8. Please don't feel the need to ask me if I'm ok though. The resounding answer in my soul is no and yes. I reminded my kids Sunday that the second gift God gave us was a family. And mine is pretty awesome. None of us are ok. And we won't be for a while. But at least we're not ok together.