Three years ago today, we began the final twelve day journey with our precious Joy. I try so hard these days to not mark time. I intentionally choose to stay in the moment...not looking back and trying so hard not to look too far ahead. But this early morning, I find myself completely unable to rodeo my thoughts as this conversation box begs for my words to spill onto its emptiness. Joy lay nearly motionless in the hospital bed that now held her most hours of the days and nights. Her breaths were shallow and painfully far far apart. I counted them over and over again. Six, seven, maybe ten times a minute her chest would gently rise and fall while the late afternoon sun danced across the hardwood floors and lit her precious face. The rays revealed no signs of pain, no struggle, no angst...at all. I felt no panic. No need to call a nurse, or need to rally the family in fear. No, it was most peaceful. When she finally began to rouse from her deep and distant slumber, she smiled and began to share with us all that she had seen, smelled and heard while she was away. It seemed as though she was being lured away from all that we here on earth hold dear. Just seven days later, she again seemed to slip so far away, but not too far. This time when she woke, she spoke of seeing her mom and dad walking on a beach. Our dear Granny was dressed and wore long white gloves much like the familiar pictures we now treasure of her as a young vibrant woman. Joy was thrilled because she had on clothes. One of her concerns about leaving us for heaven was that she might not have any clothes. She told my daddy that she had seen his parents waving to her from across the way. She even whispered in her halting speech that an angel had pointed out her name in the Lambs book of life. The next five days passed in a blur of tender moments, bitter tears, and those final agonizing 17 hours of bitter struggle. What is it that allows us to let our most precious and dear ones slip the surly bounds of earth? How do we prepare to die while living? How does one embark on the journey of grief that is so violently and brutally thrust upon us? My questions still linger and ramble through the corridors of my mind. What did she see? What did she experience? What did she know that allowed her to let go that somehow our not knowing keeps us here? There is so much not known. The unexplained this morning does not frustrate me as it sometimes does. I am learning to find comfort in the unknown. I trust her. I still trust Jesus. I trust that what she saw was enough and it will be for me one day, too. Our Jesus is enough. He promised that He was preparing a place for us....a mansion with many rooms! Joy told us she saw her room!!!! Later today, I will go to the doctor with Joys oldest sister, Mary. Cancer in all its ugliness has bullied its way into our lives yet again. I am afraid. I have been here. We have done this before. It is only natural that we recall and tend to assimilate familiar fears and feelings with similar events.....BUT GOD. He again will be enough! He again is preparing the way. He longs to know us and experience us. Dr. Paul Cone once prayed as he battled leukemia, God, I thank you that you are sparing nothing so that I will know you better! Please remember MEF today in your prayers as she returns to the oncologist for the next best thing in her journey battling cancer. And to Him who is more than able to do more than we could ever imagine or even dream about be all the praise and all the glory. God grant us acceptance with JOY all that YOU have for us. Stay with us....hold us closer. amen.
Posted on: Thu, 24 Oct 2013 05:46:00 +0000