wish i could write about something else!

So, I know for some it may seem odd that the sickness and loss of my grandmother is such an overwhelmingly significant event for me. This time has surprised even me - a veteran of loss in this department, walking through the loss of grandparents when I was 12 (Grandad), 13 (Grandma) and 16 (Pawpaw). Each of those were difficult. And, because of the nature of Gramma's diagnosis in 2006, I knew we may be walking through those events again. And I knew it would be different.

I didn't realize how different. For those of us who have had that special, one-of-a-kind, undeniable, irreplaceable bond with a grandparent, this moment is understandable. There is no one in my life like my Grandmother. She is sassy and brilliant and tough and uncompromisingly demanding. But right now, we see very limited glimpses of those parts of her personality in the short moments that her hazel eyes peek open.


She had a "good" morning this morning. She sat up for a moment and we were able to feed her breakfast (in the form of Ensure). She uttered some sparse sentences. The most prominent of which described her desire to "go home". But, for the last six hours or so, she's been asleep. And I have been in this chair beside her. Waiting. Just in case a moment of activity comes and I miss it.


It would take too many entries to describe who she is to me. But today, as I've been sitting here, I've touched every page of her One-Year Bible, reading through all her notes scribbled in margins and meditating on all the highlighted passages - reading some of them back to her.

The best part? That Bible is now mine. What a treasure...

We'll let the rest of the family fight over dishes and jewelry ;)

Thanks for listening, friends.

these 24 hours.

It feels like yesterday could have either been a full week or the blink of an eye. It was lightening fast, but all the while felt like slow motion. I knew I would need to head to Arizona on either Sunday or Monday. I planned to spend the weekend tying up loose ends. Cleaning my house to perfection, making sure everything at work was as far ahead as possible, thoughtfully packing what I might need for the undetermined amount of time I would spend here. Here...

I went to lunch yesterday with my best friend, Leigh, because I knew I might not get to see her for a little while. And, also, I wanted to be able to tell her in person how serious the situation with Gramma was becoming because Leigh is more than my friend, she's my sister. She's been part of our family for 14 years. And I knew this would be hard for her as well, in her own way.

As we sat down to lunch at Panera, my mom called. She had been at work for an hour and was called home by my sister-in-law (who is, by the way, doing an absolutely incredible job. I could never have dreamed God would bless us so much with such a gentle, compassionate and wise woman to be part of our family). Mom called me on her way home and said, you need to think about flying out. My immediate thought was, "Finish lunch with Leigh. Tonight, get things in order. Fly out in the morning." But, it's a four hour flight. And morning just wouldn't do. Mom called back, "I booked your flight. You need leave for the airport in an hour."

I was speeding home to get things ready. I called my 'nother mother and said, "Ok. I've got to go. I don't know what to do...tell me what to do." My brain could hardly calculate how to get home, let alone how to put what I needed in a bag and get to the airport. As well as figure out how to pay my bills while I'm gone, cover my job while I'm gone, tell each person I had plans within the next couple of weeks that I would be away...

I flew into the driveway to pick her up, gave a quick hug to my adopted dad and followed calm instructions on what we would do next. As we sat down in the car, she pulled out a sheet of paper and began making a list of all I needed to do (a role-reversal indeed, as that is generally my M.O. with her!) All the while, I was choking back tears and controlling anxiety because I couldn't just throw everything in the car and drive to Gramma. No, 2200 miles cannot be navigated quickly enough.

I wish I had time to tell you about all the favor that followed me yesterday. From the scale at check-in for my flight which was mysteriously out of order (there's no way I could have paid for my obviously overweight bag). To the cash I was blessed with which bought me a smoothie before I boarded the plane (one of my favorite things in the world). To the fact that I was seated in the window seat (my preference) and the seat beside was empty (icing on the cake). And, to top it off, I was seated by about eight Veteran's Administration Nurses (my mom's exact vocation) on their way to a conference in San Diego (which my mom had just attended). Now tell me God doesn't see us!

The flight was easy and peaceful. I was reminded of looking out at the same brown, mountainous landscape as we flew in for my Grandfather's funeral in 2001 (his passing was more sudden, shocking). But that memory assured me that God had walked us through that. And He would walk us through this.

My favorite men picked me up in Phoenix (my dad, brother and nephew). And we laughed much of the ride home. Apparently the gentlemen who delivered our necessary items from Hospice was quite entertaining. As he entered the house through the sliding glass door, he left it wide open. My brother closed it behind him (duly noting that this, "idiot must not pay his own electric bill"). And, upon leaving, the man assumed the door was still open...

The grease-mark from his forehead is still on the door, but Jeff did put it back in the frame. The guy about knocked himself out, my mom and Lisa catching him before he hit the floor. And mom instructed him what to do because, clearly, he gained himself a concussion. Every, single family member thanked God I hadn't arrived yet. They managed not to laugh outloud in the man's face and, had I been here, that would certainly not have been a possibility.

As I arrived and walked into Gramma's room, things were quiet with the exception of her labored breathing. I took her hand and sat by the bed a while. Mom gently asked, "Momma, do you see who this is?" Her eyes scanned a bit - no response. "Momma, this is Amanda." Her hand abruptly squeezed mine, tight. That was enough for me.

This morning is a similar story. I sit in the living room with my nephews - one watching Sponge Bob and one hiccupping after his bottle and relaxing in his swing. God brought little Lance to us at just the right time. We've all taken turns just holding him, receiving the assurance that God's still in the business of creating even during such a difficult time of loss.

Though there's a definite heaviness in the house, there is also much laughter. We can't help it! We're all hilarious! And we're all thankful that God has us together for this time.

By the way, plane tickets to come here on such a last minute basis were $350 & up, one way. I choked as I searched for an alternative. But, no worries, Gramma had already budgeted in my flight with the other costs of this time. She can't say my name and she's still taking care of me...

our God of all comfort.

Our church has a wonderfully intimate and powerful Christmas tradition. Each year, we share what we call "Family Communion". It's an opportunity for our Senior Pastors to share communion with each family individually as we embark on the new year together. They pray over pressing needs, celebrate God's goodness in the past year and anticipate what's to come in the next. And, at the end, they share with each person a different scripture to encourage them in the year to come.

The last year, the scripture I received was 2 Corinthians 1:3-4. "³Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, ⁴who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God."  

And, in these past few months, there have been many moments when I clutched that scripture card in my hand, or even pressed it to my heart, receiving God's comfort and asking Him to help me extend it. 

As I talked with my grandmother this morning, I could hear her voice weaken. Choosing words was proving to be a difficult task for her (a woman whose livelihood was made by inspiring people through speech). She explained the amount of pain she was in. She told me she was hoping she'd make it long enough to be at her next Doctor's appointment. It is on Wednesday. 

And then she comforted me:  "Spiritually I am doing well, Amanda. My family is close to me and their love is helping me."

I watch her and I am absolutely amazed. I have never seen someone face death with such courage. I can't imagine what that must be like - knowing your own body is choking out your life but that, in the end, all will be well. But she knows in Whom she has believed. And, though you can hear tinges of pain or fear in her voice from time to time, she squares her shoulders, turns her eyes, and declares His goodness. And then, she receives His comfort. Which is beyond any comfort man or medicine can bring. And she passes it on - comforting with the security she has embraced.

While I was home, in May, she jokingly mentioned to someone that, "Having a pastor in the family is great! She'll need to preach my memorial service!" And, overwhelmed at the thought, I laughed with her and said, "Ohhh, no, no. I'd be happy to do a prayer, though". But I knew she had meant what she said.  And I knew I wanted to do that. So, last week, I called and told her I would love to. And we both cried.  

It is beyond the human mind to grasp the comfort to be found in God's Word (His peace that passes understanding). I especially love those Words brought in the form of hymns; they are a sweet salve for my heart right now. 

"No guilt in life, no fear in death; this is the power of Christ in me. From life's first cry, to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny."

"And, Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight, the clouds be rolled back as a scroll. The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend, even so, it is well with my soul..."

...this is what it means that He's the Father of compassion; the God of all comfort...

romance moments.

A few years ago, I read Stasi Eldridge's book, "Captivating". In it, she speaks several times about "romance moments," or the intimate messages that God conveys to your heart using means that no one else would even know to use. He's the best Romancer because He knows us so incredibly well. And He got me good on Monday. It was a true "make your pulse race, put a lump in your throat and wrap secure arms around you all at the same time" moment. 

I was babysitting a friend's daughter for a couple hours before work. She's just my kind of kid - savvy, sassie and smart! We hung out at my house for a while and then we both drug our feet a little as we headed out the door, me to work and her to day camp at a local Catholic church. I creatively closed the door behind me with my arms full and she bopped down the stairs, jamming out to her iPod. In a few minutes, we pulled up to school and I walked her in. That's when it happened...

For a few months a song we used to sing years ago has been looping in my head. It was one of our favorites when I was in children's church. And that morning, this obscure song was reverberating in the halls of this Catholic church. So random. And so not random at all. I hugged my little friend and said a quick, "see ya later" as I ducked out to my car. 

The song simply says, 

"Where do I go, when I need a shelter?

Where do I go, when I need a friend?

Where do I go, when I need some helping?

Where do I go? Back on my knees again."

More than a reminder to talk to Him about them, Jesus was whispering me that He hears all my thoughts. And that day, this romance moment was much needed. 

Watch for your moment! He hears everything...

Maintenance

Making the transition from college life to "real life" is sometimes a little jolting. I don't know how much time this is supposed to take but I'm about to mark four years and I'm still working on it! (Perhaps it's a lifetime pursuit like leaving childishness behind? ;) 

College is a crazy time:  every day is a different schedule, life is full of random people and personalities from day-to-day and every time you turn around someone is slapping you on the back telling you that you're going to "change the world". Tests are finite. Seasons have definite "ending" dates. Possibilities are endless. And the future is the stuff of dreams. 

Then....

You graduate. 

Which is fabulous! 

You land a job (even better)! Move into your own place. And life, as the rest of the world has known it for quite a while, ensues. Bills come regularly. Things break down occasionally. Monday comes every seven days without fail. And summer? Fuggetabowdit. 

It feels sometimes like "changing the world" has been replaced with "change over the laundry, change the air conditioning filter and get an oil change." Mix in a few "life-changing" moments with God, conversations with loved ones and ideas birthed in our hearts and...there you have it. Life! 

I found myself a few months ago sounding like the old, wise man, "meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless." I was thinking things like, "I'm going to dust this and it will need dusting again in two days. I'm going to take out the trash just for it to refill. I'm going to pay these bills and they'll come again in a few weeks." And the it felt like the Lord shook me by the shoulders to help me understand:  if I refuse to enjoy the everyday, the maintenance, I will be miserable most days. 

God's word reminds us that "Godliness with contentment is great gain."  There is much to be gained through reveling in the SMTWTFS stuff. Don't let the disillusionment of changing seasons or passing years rob you of the excitement and joy of what God is doing in your everyday! 

As my favorite poet, Sara Groves, puts it:  "It's the everyday miracles that keep my hope alive. It's the way You move in little ways that helps me survive."

So, while much of life is just maintenance. So much more of life is filled with everyday miracles. And it's wonderful. 

family update.

This morning as I drove through McDonald's and picked up some breakfast for the office crew, I had plenty of time to observe those dining inside (in other words, it was the slowest line of my life but I took the opportunity to stare at strangers because I love staring at strangers). It's Winter Haven on a Thursday morning so most of those enjoying their coffee and hashbrowns could be my grandparents. 

As I observed each booth, I honed in on one particular lady. (This is a hallmark of people-watching:  you find the most interesting individual and then observe them for as long as possible without them noticing.) She was absolutely beautiful. And, frankly, she looked a bit too metropolitan-chic to be sitting in our McDonald's! 

Her gray hair was swept back, with a thin black headband holding it in place. Thick-framed glasses rested on her nose. She had on a black, boat-neck, three-quarter sleeve shirt and white pants. Striking jewelry. And, with perfectly French-tipped nails, she held her cell phone to her ear and communicated what she saw on her laptop screen to the person on the other end of the line. She smiled widely. She laughed. She pointed to the screen and adamantly asserted her point of view. 

I was fully entertained. And then, it washed over me. "This is just how Gramma was a few years ago. This is just how she'd be if..." 

Cancer has no respect for plans or the norms of our lives. I had to allow myself just a moment to get angry, then sad. And then, again, submit everything to God:  what was, what is, what might have been, what will be. 

This morning very early, my all-too-stubborn Grandmother boarded a plane for Hawaii to visit her grandson. She's determined to do just what she'd be doing if cancer weren't in the picture. (And more, since it seems time is drawing shorter.) Though she's had to obtain fluid through IV's because of fierce dehydration and needed blood transfusions because she's just getting weaker, a Hawaiian vacation seemed to be just the ticket. 

Each "bye" when we get off the phone is more heartfelt, heart-breaking. But I know, in the midst of this, my family is learning things about God, about each other, that we otherwise would have lacked. 

My brother, sister-in-law, and two nephews are keeping mom and dad company for the next couple of weeks and they're thoroughly enjoying each other. So, all-in-all, things are swell on the Arizona front! But I miss them.

This is Gramma visiting James in Hawaii in 2008. One of my favorites...