Hope
I watched my Father's chest rise and fall... his ribs really. I can't really call it a chest. He's mere bones. A man's chest is strong, muscular, firm, heavy. Not small, weak, frail... boney. His body looked like a holocaust victim. No grown man should weigh 90 pounds. It's not right. I shifted to his eyes. They seemed to have disappeared with his body. Not right at all. It was a depressing sight.
It seems all my growing up years were etched with sadness. As I was sitting with Dad, my Mother and I were reminiscing over the years.
When I was twelve, I came home from school and my sister, Sue, wasn't feeling well. I looked at one of my other sisters, Darla, and rolled my eyes. It seemed like Sue was always sick. Little did I know that this afternoon was a lot different. Mom told Darla to call the ambulance but for some reason, Dar couldn't get through, so Mom got on the phone. All of a sudden, Susie yelled out "I'm going to have a seizure!" then went limp in the chair. It obviously was not a seizure.
She stopped breathing and Mom cried out for Darla and I to start CPR. Darla was 15 and I was 12. It floors me to think of that. Micayla is 15 and Nikki will be 12 in a couple of weeks. Susie was just a little thing, but she was so heavy to Darla and I. It took everything within us to lift her to the floor. I start the ventilations and Darla was doing the chest compressions. The whole time was surreal to me. I couldn't believe this was happening. My mom got off the phone; the ambulance was on its way.
A few moments later, Sue vomited in my mouth. I completely broke down. Mom took over while I went to the bathroom to clean up. I told my Mom, for months I thought I had killed Sue. I thought it was my fault because I didn't have her head tilted back far enough, all the air got in her belly instead of her lungs. It was several months before I discovered it was a bleed in her brain stem that ruptured that caused her death. She died in the chair; there was no bringing her back. Yet, I carried that guilt with me for so long. I felt guilty because I rolled my eyes and didn't take her being sick seriously. She was always sick. Who knew she was really that sick?
Darla and I were so young. It baffles me now. She was 27, I was 12.
Then, the year after that the grandma that had lived with us for four years passed away. I helped take care of her. Helped bathe, feed, change, catheterize her... love her. She died at our home. I was 13.
Then the year after that, my other grandma died from cancer. I adored her. I was 14.
Then the year after that, my sister, Deanna died from breast cancer. She died in our living room. She was 30, was 15.
Then the year after that, my brother, Dave died from adrenal gland cancer. He died in our kitchen. He was 27, I was 16.
Then the year after that, my brother, Joey died from heart complications. He died in my Mother's arms. He was 4, I was 17.
Then the year after that, my sister, Angela died from complications in surgery. She was 13, I was 18.
It sucked. So much sadness. So much sorrow.
I was reading in Lamentations last night. What a sorrowful book. Basically this book of the Bible is five funeral poems. This dirge talks of how awful Jerusalem is; how much she's crying; how barren and left alone. How betrayed, forsaken and forgotten she is. Sad. But smack dab in the middle of this sad, miserable book, there is hope:
"Yet, this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning, great is Your faithfulness.
"I say to myself 'The Lord is my portion therefore I will wait for Him.' The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him, to the one who seeks Him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.
"Let him sit along in silence, for the Lord has laid it on Him. Let him bury his face in the dust-there may yet be hope.
"For men are not cast off by the Lord forever. Though He brings grief, He will show compassion, so great is His unfailing love." Lamentations 3: 23-26, 28-33
There is hope. Although the storms may swell and rage, there is hope that the waters will be still and tranquil once again.
Although my family was dropping like flies on a window sill, I knew the Lord was going to be there every morning to hold my hand through the day. I knew He was the one constant in my life that wouldn't change.
Even though I was angry, hurt, frustrated, confused, lonely, guilt-ridden and just plain sad... after all the flowers had lost it's petals, the cards had been put away, the visitors had forgotten us...I laid in my bed and soaked my pillow with tears. It was the Lord who showed His compassion and love, looked at his heart broken daughter, picked me up, cradled me to His big, strong chest and rocked me back to healing.
Hope.
The Word tells us that the Lord "gives and takes away." (Job 1:21 Message) My Dad's journey will soon be ending here and beginning in heaven. My niece, Becky is about to give birth. God's giving a new life; bringing home another. He has cradled Becky's new child to His big, strong chest, and He will soon be welcoming my Father to His chest as well. There is hope in the Lord.
I watched my Father's chest rise and fall... his ribs really. I can't really call it a chest. He's mere bones. A man's chest is strong, muscular, firm, heavy. Not small, weak, frail... boney. His body looked like a holocaust victim. No grown man should weigh 90 pounds. It's not right. I shifted to his eyes. They seemed to have disappeared with his body. Not right at all. It was a depressing sight.
It seems all my growing up years were etched with sadness. As I was sitting with Dad, my Mother and I were reminiscing over the years.
When I was twelve, I came home from school and my sister, Sue, wasn't feeling well. I looked at one of my other sisters, Darla, and rolled my eyes. It seemed like Sue was always sick. Little did I know that this afternoon was a lot different. Mom told Darla to call the ambulance but for some reason, Dar couldn't get through, so Mom got on the phone. All of a sudden, Susie yelled out "I'm going to have a seizure!" then went limp in the chair. It obviously was not a seizure.
She stopped breathing and Mom cried out for Darla and I to start CPR. Darla was 15 and I was 12. It floors me to think of that. Micayla is 15 and Nikki will be 12 in a couple of weeks. Susie was just a little thing, but she was so heavy to Darla and I. It took everything within us to lift her to the floor. I start the ventilations and Darla was doing the chest compressions. The whole time was surreal to me. I couldn't believe this was happening. My mom got off the phone; the ambulance was on its way.
A few moments later, Sue vomited in my mouth. I completely broke down. Mom took over while I went to the bathroom to clean up. I told my Mom, for months I thought I had killed Sue. I thought it was my fault because I didn't have her head tilted back far enough, all the air got in her belly instead of her lungs. It was several months before I discovered it was a bleed in her brain stem that ruptured that caused her death. She died in the chair; there was no bringing her back. Yet, I carried that guilt with me for so long. I felt guilty because I rolled my eyes and didn't take her being sick seriously. She was always sick. Who knew she was really that sick?
Darla and I were so young. It baffles me now. She was 27, I was 12.
Then, the year after that the grandma that had lived with us for four years passed away. I helped take care of her. Helped bathe, feed, change, catheterize her... love her. She died at our home. I was 13.
Then the year after that, my other grandma died from cancer. I adored her. I was 14.
Then the year after that, my sister, Deanna died from breast cancer. She died in our living room. She was 30, was 15.
Then the year after that, my brother, Dave died from adrenal gland cancer. He died in our kitchen. He was 27, I was 16.
Then the year after that, my brother, Joey died from heart complications. He died in my Mother's arms. He was 4, I was 17.
Then the year after that, my sister, Angela died from complications in surgery. She was 13, I was 18.
It sucked. So much sadness. So much sorrow.
I was reading in Lamentations last night. What a sorrowful book. Basically this book of the Bible is five funeral poems. This dirge talks of how awful Jerusalem is; how much she's crying; how barren and left alone. How betrayed, forsaken and forgotten she is. Sad. But smack dab in the middle of this sad, miserable book, there is hope:
"Yet, this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning, great is Your faithfulness.
"I say to myself 'The Lord is my portion therefore I will wait for Him.' The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him, to the one who seeks Him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.
"Let him sit along in silence, for the Lord has laid it on Him. Let him bury his face in the dust-there may yet be hope.
"For men are not cast off by the Lord forever. Though He brings grief, He will show compassion, so great is His unfailing love." Lamentations 3: 23-26, 28-33
There is hope. Although the storms may swell and rage, there is hope that the waters will be still and tranquil once again.
Although my family was dropping like flies on a window sill, I knew the Lord was going to be there every morning to hold my hand through the day. I knew He was the one constant in my life that wouldn't change.
Even though I was angry, hurt, frustrated, confused, lonely, guilt-ridden and just plain sad... after all the flowers had lost it's petals, the cards had been put away, the visitors had forgotten us...I laid in my bed and soaked my pillow with tears. It was the Lord who showed His compassion and love, looked at his heart broken daughter, picked me up, cradled me to His big, strong chest and rocked me back to healing.
Hope.
The Word tells us that the Lord "gives and takes away." (Job 1:21 Message) My Dad's journey will soon be ending here and beginning in heaven. My niece, Becky is about to give birth. God's giving a new life; bringing home another. He has cradled Becky's new child to His big, strong chest, and He will soon be welcoming my Father to His chest as well. There is hope in the Lord.
Rebecca... you are an inspiration. God has truly given you a gift of writing... Love to read your passages. Thanks for sharing your life...your story. May God continue to hold you to His chest... Prayers are sent your way.
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