Caring for Our Own

I have been very, very fortunate. I have spent the past twenty-plus years in nursing. The vast majority, I have spent working in a Level One Trauma Center, on the trauma service.

Oh, trust me, I've seen it all... I've heard stories and seen injuries that you wouldn't believe if HIPPA laws would allow me to tell. But, I have never experienced what the staff in our Emergency Department experienced Monday morning. Thank You, God!

One of their own returned to their care.

Yes, I've cared for nurses and 'medics - even extricated a few from their vehicles in my EMS days. But never, ever one of my co-workers. Hospital employees and their families, yes. MY peers, no.

She finished her shift and was heading home. Not long after, she returned to the care of the doctors and nurses to whom she had just said good-bye. I have no doubt that they mounted a valiant fight, but apparently, God has other plans for her.

I know she will be long remembered and her signature fish with the words "Have a Blessed Day" will be etched on the hearts of many, as it was on the dry erase boards she came across.

I ask that you pray for the staff. And for her family.

It is Well... sort of....

I have no words today... just exhaustion. Physical. Mental.

Not only was it a full day, but close to three hours of it was spent in a visitation line. I knew his mom and had met others in his family a few times. None the less, I knew I needed to be there.

I hugged my son closely as we walked through the line. My daughter slept in a pew at the back of the chapel.

As we got into the 'final stretch' before greeting the family, a song from this morning's worship played over and over again in my head:

whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, 
 It is well, it is well with my soul. 

I hugged his sister, his father, his wife and his mother, but it was the card that touched me most.

Hand-colored by a four year old girl:

"I [heart] you. I [heart] you. I [heart] you. I miss you."

She had written it that morning, and her mother had tucked it beside her fathers head to be sure it got to him in heaven.

May "peace like a river" to "attendeth [their] way", and God surround them in the midst of this....

Remembering Dad...

It's hard to believe it's been five years. Five summer visits without him. Five birthdays without a crack of dawn phone call on my birthday (He said it was the only time he was SURE he'd reach me...)

But, you know, it was time, and the timing was perfectly choreographed. My children and I had just returned from a visit to Massachusetts. He had just spent an afternoon at my sister's house with all four of his children and nine of his grandchildren (#10 was born the following April). He and my mother had just celebrated an anniversary.

I had been home about two or three days when I received the call from my mother. She then asked me if I wanted to speak at his funeral. I needed some time to think about that.

So, I packed up my kids and did what we always did - we went to the Y. With a pair of (then) three year olds, I was bound and determined to use every second of the nine hour per week childcare limit! I signed them into the nursery, made a few phone calls and headed to the shower.

There I simply cried. It was quiet, peaceful, and I learned that "Love never ends....". I also was flooded with memories of the things my father had taught me through the years, and I decided I would speak at his funeral. To appreciate it fully, you must remember that my father spent half of his childhood and all of his adult years, blind.

This is what I wrote and read:

"....My mother asked me if I wanted to speak today. My first thought was "Gosh, I don't know what I would say", but I agreed to think about it.

Then, I started remembering some of the things I had learned from my father through the years:

• I learned that there are other, perhaps better ways to "see" than with your eyes.
• I learned how to pour a glass of water in the dark without spilling a drop.
• I learned that blindness isn't the handicap: surrendering hope, ability and perseverance to your "difference" is, something my father often refused to do.
• I learned that humor is a great way to address what the world perceives as your weakness
• I learned that just because the world stares, doesn't mean you should not do it, or stop doing it.
• I learned that the world isn't fair.
• I learned that what I did with the unfairness is what mattered.
• I learned the importance of "Attitude" and the consequences of both a positive and negative outlook on life.
• I learned that "If you'd thought about it first, you wouldn't have to apologize now"
• I learned that men DO ask for directions.
• I learned that it's OK to ask.... the worst thing that can happen is they'll say no.
• I learned that although it may be effective, "You don't always need a sledgehammer to swat mosquitoes"
• I learned that he wasn't always right: Nurses DO do more than empty bedpans.
• I learned that *I* wasn't always right either.
• Once I had children of my own, I learned that the ridiculous house rules -- like "wash your hands after you eat", "don't eat in the living room", "if you put things away after you use them, you'll know where to find them" -- do make sense after all.
• I learned that family time does matter.

My father encouraged me to read aloud. He encouraged me to speak in front of people. He encouraged me to write. He encouraged me to try new things and to do my best.

I know that he loves me. I use the present tense because, although his body isn't here with us anymore, his love is.

And, I find myself now smiling rather than rolling my eyes when I hear myself say:
"wash your hands after you eat"
"Don't eat in the living room"
"If you put things away after you use them, you'll know where to find them"

I still don't know what I should say standing before all of you now, so I guess I'll just say, "Thanks, Dad".


Still not sure what to say....

so, again......

"Thanks, Dad"

Moving on...

I got one of those calls today that remind me of how UN-fixed plans really are. Schedules are not really "set". My timing is merely that... my timing.

The call was from my ex, letting me know that his mother had died the night before. The day continued, but the rest of the week got put on hold, awaiting plans for visitation and the funeral.

I thought back to my father's funeral, and my friend, Karen's death. "Love never ends", I reminded myself. I remember the acuteness of the loss, and how time eases the pain. There will be things that pop up from time to time that remind us of her, and we will revisit it briefly. One day, those reminders will bring joy for the life.

On my return home from the Elementary School, I sat to read my email. In the stack was a note from my first ex-husbands step-father. He was letting me know that his wife, my first mother-in-law, had died, early last week. "She always loved you," he wrote.

And I realize how greatly I have been blessed. How fortunate am I to have had TWO mother-in-laws who "always loved me". Despite the divorces, we have kept in touch. A gift indeed!

I am also grateful to have been able to see both of them fairly recently. Neither one was in great health, and I know that they are both "free" now of that which restricted their lives here on earth these past few years. The are moving on... to bigger and better things.

Being Met in the Grief

We've had a sad past 24 hours. Aurora, the kitten we were going to adopt when she was old enough, died. She was born on my birthday, so was 15 days old when she died. When we went to meet her, she still had her eyes closed, and we fed her with a cute little baby animal bottle.

Aurora and her brother and sister were abandoned by their mother. A family from church took them in and were providing the round-the-clock care that such little ones require.

They had all been doing well, making appropriate milestones. Aurora had even stood up on all fours the morning she started acting "not right".

She had quit feeding well, and had been taken to the vet. There, she was given some antibiotics, probiotics, vitamin/calorie paste and was heading home. Her human 'grandma', turned around and went back to the vet, where they confirmed her worst fears.

The thing that struck me about the story, I heard from someone else. The someone else is another woman from church, who happened to be at the vet at the time. She was able to be with our friend through the process. Met in the midst of her grief.

Telling the kids was a bit of a challenge too. My boy, acted just like a boy: "Well, the vet SAID she had only a small chance of surviving." My girl, acted just like a girl: She cried and cried, and called out her name, asked all the "Why?" questions and wanted to snuggle in my bed to fall asleep.

Meet her in her grief, Lord...

I continue to pray for the other two kitties, for their human family, and for my children....

Visitation Realizations

There was a death in my family recently.... my church family, that is. A young man that I didn't know very well - I know and love the women in his life: His wife, sister-in-law, mother-in-law. We all shared a meal together on Sunday after church - though he and I didn't speak. Had I know it was the last time I'd see him here on Earth, I'd have chosen differently... but I digress...

The night of visitation had come. As I parked the car, I thought back to my father's funeral, where I was reminded "Love never ends". I took a deep breath, gathered my things, and headed inside.

I'm sort of a newbie to funerals and visitations and all. I can count my experiences on, oh, two fingers. I soon learned how different visitations are when you actually know the family.

I looked around. Quite a group - a wonderful, wonderful group. Family, friends. Hugs. Tears. Laughter. It brought tears to my eyes. The palpable love of these people for one another. My heart runneth over. (And, yes, I think I may get elected the designated "church crier" :) ) Again, I digress...

Pictures of Todd scrolled through on the big screen. I got introduced to a side of him that I hadn't known. I'm fairly new in the church, and he'd been chronically ill the whole time I'd known him.

I looked around again, at the people gathered - talking to his wife, mother, extended family - talking with each other. Providing support, encouragement, love. I focused on the people I'd come to know in the past year. I smiled to myself as I remembered meeting each of them. Many I had prayed with, or studied with. Laughed with, cried with.

I shook my head as I left. The evening had nothing to do with me, but I left there with a realization of how much I love my church family - more and more every day - and that I, too, am well loved and cared for within the group.

Be well, Todd. Know that you are loved. Your wife, too, is loved, and will be well cared-for.

Reside in our hearts...

Walk with God...