Overwhelmed or overblessed?

So here we go...not THE dreaded phone call, but close. My mother is 'non-responsive' at the nursing home. Rush trip to the ER and she is very ill. Between visits with nurses, x-ray techs, lab techs, doctors, and the rotation of family in and out...it's odd how God helps you find moments of humor and even moments of tenderness with your mother.....even if she thinks your name is Lisa Jack. I sit next to her as she drifts in and out of a troubled sleep and wonder how she felt when she would sit next to my bed when I was so little, so helpless, so sick. Did she marvel at the softness of my young skin, like I marvel over hers? Although the skin is paper thin and shows it's age, it is so very soft. I smooth her hair and instinctively know that she has done that to me a million times; as a child, as a teenager with a broken heart and as a woman with a worried heart. When did the switch take place....I playing the role of parent to my mother as helpless as a child? She wakes up with a start and anxiously looks around and says, "Welcome to River Oaks." That was one of the lighter moments. It's also oddly comforting (probably not to the male nurse taking her blood samples) that she thinks he is my oldest son, Josh and he has now become a doctor.

She is pretty sick this time. Her dementia is getting worse and I know I will lose her emotionally and mentally before I lose her physically. Where did the time go? When you grow up and leave home you think your parents are immortal and will always be there next week or next month when you can get around to a visit. It's all gone by so fast. We're all wrapped in very complicated tapestries that are called our families. When they start to unravel, you start to experience the harsh realities of the world. You feel the storms coming. The wind is a little stronger. The rain is a little harder. The worries are a little more serious.

Create your family tapestry strong and deeply interwoven, my friends. I pray that my tapestry is so strong and so tight and beautiful that even when I'm gone, it will keep everyone safe and warm and dry.

Every other Monday

So it's 'that' Monday again. I'm here with my dad as he takes his chemo treatment for renal cell cancer. It's our little 'time together' as he snores in his comfy chair hooked up to all kinds of things...the best of which is benadryl which knocks him out and the worst of which is Lasix which makes him have to go to the bathroom every five minutes while groggy. My job is simple. I just unplug the I.V. machine so he can pull the whole thing with him to the restroom. I also fetch water, coffee (just a half a cup, little cream, little ice) if necessary. Thank God, the chemo seems to be holding his tumors at bay so we are here...the alternative to NOT being here every other Monday would be not good at all. These treatments are not the devastating type of chemo treatments that make him lose his hair or throw up or any of the horrible other side affects I've seen. Thank God, once again.

But no matter what I'm thinking about, worrying about, grouchy about on these Mondays....it just hits me like a ton of bricks when I look around and I'm one of the few healthy ones....some patients bring someone with them. Others just call someone when they are finished because their treatment can take hours and hours. Dad's treatment is usually about 3 hours total. He drives us here but I have to drive home. He's groggy from the benadryl for most of the day afterward. He actually amazes me. His oncologist says, "Let him do whatever he feels up to doing." So when he's out there weed eating or working in his shop, it blows my mind. I used the weed eater yesterday and that thing is heavy and hard to handle!!! He's a tough old bird. The next door neighbor calls him the "John Wayne of the Neighborhood". Since Robert, Gracie and I (oh, and Stevie the cat) have moved in, he seems better. Although the house is way too small for all our stuff and we STILL haven't found a place for everything, he likes knowing someone is there for him....just in case. It's no easy task combining households, but deep down inside I'm very grateful for the time to spend with him. Who knows how long it will be?

I'm also so grateful that I don't come here with one of my children to receive chemo. I see others who have to get into a hospital bed for their treatment that will devastate their body but hopefully kill the cancer cells. I see people with ports. I see people with no hair. I see people who bravely get hooked up to a drug that is their life source almost as much as their blood, their oxygen, their sunshine. I have to admit that sometimes I sneak off the the restroom when the emotions overcome me. God bless them all and God, please make sure I NEVER take for granted the health you have blessed me with. And my kids....Lord, how do you deal with a gravely sick child? I wouldn't know how to begin except the way any long, difficult journey should begin.....on your knees.

See you two Mondays from now!
Lisa

Lack of Communication

On a recent mad dash to the library on a Friday evening to make it by their closing time (6:00 p.m.), my dear husband, Robert was perplexed and perturbed to discover upon our arrival (5:45 p.m.) that the library was, nevertheless, CLOSED. There were two signs posted; one for the closure on Monday for Memorial Day, but the other was not easily read by me from my cool location in the car. Upon Robert's return to the car, I saw the consternation (similar to constipation) on his face as he approached the car and muttered something to me that sounded amazingly like "They're closed for Lloyd Farrell Day and Memorial Day, but they are open tomorrow, Saturday. That makes no sense to me. Why in the world....." And he was off. I tried to listen. I really did. But something kept nagging at my brain....over and over and over..."Who the heck is Lloyd Farrell and why does he get "a day"?" Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, I interrupted him and yelled, "Wait a minute! Who's Lloyd Farrell???!!!"

Utter silence and a look of complete amazement from my dear husband and then...

He burst into laughter, tears streaming from his eyes....and could barely get out the words. I kept saying, "What did you say? Who is it? What's so funny?" Finally, he took a deep breath and said "NOT Lloyd Farrell. EMPLOYEE FURLOW!" And we were both off in a fit of hysterics. Nothing like going out to dinner with the hubby on a Friday night.

Ever notice when you are in the midst of a struggle, a storm, a whale of hurricane that your prayers seem to get lost in the wind, the rain, the downpour of trouble, worries and guilt that seem to be pelting you from all directions?

It's also hard to hear God's answers when we are struggling just to keep our head above water. It's hardest to be still and listen when we keep jumping up and down, shaking our fists and screaming at the top of our lungs, "God, where are you? Aren't you listening? I'm hurting! I'm afraid! I NEED! NEED! NEED! I want an answer and I want it now!" Somehow, we feel our Creator, the One who loves us most, the One who created us in His image is busy, distracted, working on someone else's problem and it becomes a little bit like a child hollering for their daddy's attention..."Watch this, daddy! Watch this! Look what I can do!" It's hard to imagine, especially if you are a parent, that He keeps this big ol' universe running and handles everything all the time for all of us. And answers our cries in the most perfect way that is perfect for us. However, if we aren't listening or watching for the answer, we'll miss it. I've heard that God often whispers...He doesn't yell or scream or knock us upside the head with a hammer (well, sometimes I guess He does if necessary). Little signs along the way, random people you come into contact with, fragments of a conversation you may hear, the sermon last Sunday, the song on the radio with that one line that SHOUTS, "THIS IS THE ANSWER". And then you know. There is love. There is a wonderful, loving, infinitely patient, heavenly Father and He answers every prayer, every whispered sigh of a cry for help. Pray without ceasing. Knock and keep knocking. The answer may be on the radio, in a bird's song, in the title of a book, in a random act of kindness you witness from afar....but trust in this fact: The answer WILL come and it will be right on time.

Faith can feel like you've jumped out of a plane without your parachute and you are falling head over heels at terminal velocity to crash- SPLAT!- onto the ground. But rest assured that God will never let you hit the ground....so you might as well enjoy the adrenaline rush!