Month: February 2009

I can’t go further without thanking someone so dear to our family. Pastor Tommy Moore. We grew up in Carmel Assembly of God Church and raised our family there. There has never, in the history of the Church, been a pastor as caring and protective over his flock as Pastor Tom. Even when the family moves and has to change churches. Thank you Thomas Earl (my name for him), for being the brother-in-Christ that you are—and for loving our family as you do.

Around 10:00 p.m. on Monday night, after much singing, praying and praising the Lord, we sent my husband, Jeff; Aimee’s husband, Juno; and mother’s sweet husband, Grandbuddy (our name for him), to the motel to sleep. Promising to call them with changes. Our home church pastor Tommy Moore, stayed with us. He had driven Juno down after he preached on Sunday and remained by Mark’s side. Tommy and Wanda had graduated high school together and our families are very close.

The monitor numbers had not changed in any significant amount and we felt like it could possibly be days before she (Wanda) left us. Mother, Aimee and I, went around the corner to a little waiting room to pray and get a bit of shut eye. During which time we talked a bit privately, sharing our feelings, sharing some memories that were personal to us and sharing most importantly, that our faith remained in what God decided to do.

A woman that worked in the hospital came in to “play on the computer” and eat her ‘noisy’ snack of potato chips and very smelly burger. Now get this picture with me. The room is fairly large. Has a love seat, some chairs and a square coffee table. On one side there was a work table for patients to do crafts, and on the other side an organ. Books were along one wall for children with a locked cabinet for the craft supplies. The lights were off. We were talking in hushed tones, being the only ones in there, we were in a spiritual mode of resting. Not really able to sleep, but yet, we each arranged our tired bodies as best we could in the chairs, with legs dangling and our heads in odd positions, almost as a hat set askew on our heads, to try and sleep —if sleep would only come.

In our extremely exhausted state, everything was amplified. Every noise. Every click of the computer keys. Did I mention she had potato chips?? We toss. Crunch. We turn—if you can actually ‘turn’ in a chair—Crunch. We look at each other. Crunch. Click Click Click.

I have to be honest with you all here. I was mad. I wanted to scream. I wasn’t necessarily mad at the woman—well—sort of. But I was mad that things were winding up this way. CRUNCH. Mother looked at me. We all sort of took deep breathes. I am certain the woman with her back to us could FEEL the tension in the room. I wanted to scream at her—“Look lady—my sister is dying—right down the hall! COULD YOU PLEASE SHOW A BIT OF RESPECT HERE! COULD YA?” Yes, I wanted to …but no. I didn’t.

I got up several times and went back to the room. (If I didn’t—I would have probably laid that woman out flat.) The sounds in Wanda’s room–brought me back to reality. The sounds of her breathing. In. Out. The tears continually coming down Marks face as he sat there, wiping her mouth or forehead. She never knowing—he always loving. And Pastor Tom. He never left Mark or Wanda’s side. That’s reality. Living and dying. There are always distractions in life (like SweetPea Paula said this week) to get your focus off of what is going on. But we MUST keep our eyes and hearts focused on the bigger picture. WHAT IS GOD DOING in our lives and through the situation. Girls, no matter what it is—how difficult or easy—He has a plan in mind through it all.

Within an hour Tommy text-messaged us to come back. Her heart rate had dropped. But when we entered the room and began talking to one another—asking questions, her heart rate came right back up. We lingered, praying quietly and singing softly. After about another hour, Aimee and I went to the chapel and mother went back to the waiting room to try and sleep. (The noisy chip eater was gone–PTL). We had been in the chapel for about 30 minutes when we got a text from Tommy, come back. We went by and got mother and decided not to call the men yet. We felt they needed to sleep. And—probably—this would be the same thing. Watching the numbers go up and down.

Before we walked in, I took mother’s hand and said to her and Aimee, “let’s be real quiet this time–I think our talking is disturbing her”. So we entered and all knelt around the bed and laid our hands on Wanda. I took one hand, Aimee took the other. Mark had been loving on her sweet face and mother’s hand rested on her leg. We all began to quietly pray. For mercy. For grace. For peace. For the help we needed to let go.

As the tears fell, and we began to release her, I watched the numbers began to change. They started slowly dropping. We felt, more than saw, something spiritual taking place. It was as if a Presence had entered the room and was taking her lovingly by the hand.

As the heart line became straight, I felt in my spirit her take her leave. As a music conductor holds his wand for the high note to be reached, I felt her soar up off that bed and into His waiting arms. In one gentle sweeping motion of the Conductor’s Arm…she was gone. She was healed. She was breathing celestial air…without any help from any breathing apparatus. She was whole. For the first time in her life.

I remember Aimee telling me that as we were kneeling by Wanda’s bed, she glanced at mother, to make sure she was okay—the nurse-daughter instinct. She said that mother’s face held a look of pained intensity—as a woman does when she is pushing with all her might and body to give birth to the life trying so hard to get out. If you think about it in life giving terms—that’s what was happening. Wanda was leaving this shell—this mortal—for that immortal life. She was being birthed into the eternal. And mother was releasing her once again. The bodily fluids lost by mother this time though, were the rivers of tears falling to the bed.

When the nurses came in, in response to the alarm on the monitors, they turned off the alarm and were very tender toward us. They notified the doctor on call and he came quickly. Aimee and I had stepped out of the room briefly to call the sleeping men. We returned just as the doctor pronounced her “gone”. I don’t like the word dead. I didn’t use it then—and I don’t use it now. The dictionary defines “dead” as, no longer living; deprived of life…but she was living! She was FAR FROM DEPRIVED OF LIFE! It was a life that we can not even imagine!

As we stood in the room, waiting for our husbands, we all were praying. You will think this strange—but we were praising the Lord. I know that so many would find that so hard to believe! But God had given us an awesome gift! Wanda’s faith was incredible—and it spread over into our lives in such a wonderful way. As we were standing, with arms raised toward heaven, thanking the Almighty for the gift of mercy and grace—I felt mother touch my back, almost as if she was wanting to get closer. But when I opened my eyes, mother was further down to my left. The touch came from my right. Aimee was across the room on the other side of the bed. I turned around and no one was there. Maybe it was an angel. Maybe it was God’s gentle way of allowing Wanda to say goodbye. I felt His love. More than I can say.

A few hours later, we left the hospital to drive home. Home. What did it mean to me? Surely I would never look at anything the same. Jeff and I drove Mark’s car home. Pastor Tom drove Mark. I sat in the seat that Wanda had just a few days before. I leaned it all the way back to shield my face from passing cars. I wept quietly. As Jeff made a few phone calls, he wept openly. Hardly able to talk at times. That was my total undoing.

I am leaving this post as is. Only minor details were left out. I was glad she didn’t leave on the 11th, for that is Grandbuddy’s birthday. Nor on the 14th…for Mark always celebrated the sweetheart day with much grandeur. Those days needed to retain their good memories. But she left us right in the middle. On the 12th. God knows what is best for all His beloved children. Even when we can’t see His plan for the tears in our eyes…it’s still exists. We must keep trusting. Just as Wanda did. Although she didn’t know the “whys” —she trusted.

So do I.

Today, we leave for vacation. I have 3 more posts regarding this time last year. I will save them until I return. Next week is the 12th. Aimee and I will be together sharing memories of Wanda while we are on vacation. Mother is in Israel. God is working incredibly sweet blessings in Mark and Victoria’s life. They are doing very well. I thank you for all your prayers.

Just in case you are worried about our new baby Lucy—someone will be staying in our house and looking after her. She has been a fun blessing. Oh—maybe you don’t know about Lucy. Well—scroll down until you see the brown-eyed beautiful lab-mix.

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We stayed by her bed. Off and on each taking turns.

The room was small and we went out from time to time to give other family members a minute…but Aimee, mother and I were claiming our place by her side. I was up and down, having trouble sitting still from the back problem I had encountered in November. I would try and walk –never leaving the room for long—fearing what might happen if I did. I was dealing with my emotions as best I could. Aimee, the loving nurse-sister was able to understand more of what was actually going on than the rest of us.

Of course, Mark rarely left her side. Not even for food. When they told us they would do all they could to keep her comfortable, he never left her again. No naps, no food. We brought food into him, he ate some, picked mostly.

I take that back on the no naps. On Sunday night, in a brief 20 minute nap, the man snored so loud while we were keeping watch, that I figured the nurses could hear him. It became quite comical to Aimee and me. Little Wanda never knew. As her body processes began to slow, she had been less “with us” and more “somewhere else” over the past few hours. The minutes ticked by slowly, just watching the monitor and it’s glaring digits.

After her doctor informed us that she was not having any kidney output, and that tests had shown her kidney function had all but ceased, she knew what was next. She was an incredibly loving doctor and had talked to Mark about “releasing” Wanda, and that we each needed to do the same. We in turn, began to go to her and love on her and tell her that it was okay that she left us. It really wasn’t okay with us. But in the deepest part of my heart, I knew that she would be whole again with Him.

So, with tears and severe heartache like we had never before experienced we each did as the doctor instructed. We had been singing to Wanda, songs of praise, like “As Long As I Have Breath…I will praise You Lord”…and other such worship songs. The Presence of the Holy God could be felt. After I spoke to her again, I slipped out of the room to go to the bathroom. I regret my bladder keeping me from hearing her voice for the last time.

On Monday morning, Wanda spoke her last words. Talking had become so difficult—requiring far too much breath and effort. Even today, her words ring in my heart. As she looked up at Mark very solemnly she said, “I don’t understand….(long pause)….we trusted God….(long pause for breath)….but….I still….trust Him“. The last five words were said with a resolute firmness of one who has walked through the fire and seen the reward up ahead.

And trust Him she did. With every single ounce of flesh and blood she possessed. A short while later, she lapsed into a semi-coma like state. We continued to sing over her…we talked about who would be in her “greeting party” upon entering those Gates. Even in our tired delirium, we laughed quite a bit about silly memories, and funny family stories. My sister Aimee kept us in stitches as she shared funny antics of her teenage son.

And then we’d cry.

A whirlwind of emotions. Aimee, mother and I had only been to bed for an hour on Monday afternoon. That evening after much prayer and talking and singing, we felt that it could be another couple of days. Her heart beat was very strong, although she never gained consciousness again.

I told mother, I think Wanda was floating somewhere between her body on the bed and her heavenly destination and she was getting a big kick out of all the singing, stories and laughter. When we looked into her eyes, which could not completely close, we couldn’t see Wanda anymore. I think that even then, she was preparing to leave us soon.

I clung to a sweet memory from when we entered the room that Sunday morning. Aimee was searching for something behind Wanda in the cabinet. I was sitting directly in front of her. She rarely spoke. She had no energy. I searched her face for signs that she completely understood what we said. She did. I asked her a question and got no answer. Just a puzzled look. I asked her again. She looked at me and smiled and said, “I’m thinking.” With a brilliant, sister-shared smile, my eyes filled. I knew that spectacular smile would soon be witnessed by our loved ones who were waiting for her There.

A quick note to my sweet readers. I’m almost done. Just a few more posts. I know some of you were with me last year when all of this happened. I wasn’t able to share this last year. I was too raw. It was too hard. It hurt too bad. Today, the pain is different. I KNOW I will see her again. Perhaps very soon. “No man knoweth the day or the hour the Son of Man cometh”…I intend to be ready. If I can encourage anyone to make sure they have their hearts in tune with God—that you give EVERY thing in your life to Christ—holding nothing back—I ask you to simply examine your life. Talk to the Savior. He’s always ready to listen.

Thank you all for your patience and your comments. I have not had a chance to respond to everyone….but I will. You have all blessed me with your ear and shoulder more than you realize. I love you dear sisters!

Some things will be repeated—simply because I wrote them just after experiencing them.

On that Sunday morning, February 10, 2008, as we were on the road to Gainesville, the team of doctors had gathered in Wanda’s room to discuss what was happening in her body.

Her kidneys were shutting down. They were suggesting dialysis. Her breathing was labored. Getting more difficult as the hours passed due to the accumulation of fluid around her heart/lungs. Her heart was enlarging. Had been for quite sometime.

As they began to lay out the facts to Mark and Wanda, they asked her what she wanted to do. They told her that they could put her on the ventilator and it would do the breathing for her and the dialysis would act for her failing kidneys. She lay and thought about all they said. Then firmly, but quietly, she said, “no, I don’t want that.”

She chose to keep her faith in the Lord. She knew what would happen if they put her on the machines. She already knew that she would never come off of the life manipulating machines. And, for her to be on the ventilator, she would have to be kept in an unconscious state.

She made the decision to trust the Lord. As she had for the past almost 44 years of her life. She firmly believed, as we all did, that God could restore her to full life. He had brought her out before…from the very door of death just 4 years previously.

On Saturday night prior to this particular Sunday, as I lay on the floor, prostrate before the Lord in my little study room, I had called out to the Father who had heard and answered….but I didn’t know what to pray. I begged for words. I cried for words. All I could do is cry that it was too hard! That we wanted her healed…but was asking for His divine will. As I continued to cry to the Lord, not having the words, the Holy Spirit came in and interceded for me. Mother had told me that a similar thing happened with her days earlier.

As we left home that morning, she leaving her husband in the pulpit, to preach a message that he couldn’t grip—because his heart was with his wife…who was hurting with the pain of the possibility of losing her sister…and my sweet man drove us down there. We had gotten on the other side of Tallahassee, Florida when Mark called. With tears of pain in his voice, “come now”. “We are on our way” was our reply. We were all choked up with the realization of what the next hours may bring and made several phone calls. All the while calling on the mighty name of Abba Father.

While we were driving down, some very hard words were spoken—hard words heard—reality realized.

As the group of doctors explained things to Wanda and Mark, mother and Grandbuddy walked quietly into the room. Having just come from the motel, they had no idea the things that happened during the long night. Struggled breathing. Knowing, yet not wanting to know.

Mother and Grandbuddy stood by the bedside as Wanda looked up into the faces of the doctors and then Mark. With a quiet question, but firmly spoken, she asked, “am I dying?” Even now, as I typed these words….knowing her soft spoken voice so well, I can hear it reverberating in my ears. The doctors quiet response was simply, without the ventilator and dialysis, yes.

As the tears pooled and poured from every eye in the room it was finally understood. Wanda would soon meet, face to face, the awesome Creator. But unfortunately, when we think of someone who loves God dearly, finally getting to meet Him, we think only of our loss. Not of their gain. I thought that way. Couldn’t really help it. This conversation we didn’t know as we were driving. It was a good thing.

We arrived to find an extremely weakened sister. She didn’t have much strength to speak, but as we each leaned over her to kiss her, she told us all she loved us. As we did her. I don’t handle things like this very well. I stepped out of the room so that no one would see me start squalling like a baby. I DID NOT want to give up my sister. Not my prayer partner! This could not be happening! Not to us. We had always loved and followed the Lord! Or, at least Wanda had. I had my days of rebellion, but Wanda had been the most faithful servant of God that I had ever known.

Nevertheless, we trusted. We believed. I had followed the Lord for many years, had times of extreme testing in my marriage and child rearing…but the Lord had never failed me…and I knew He would be right here, holding my hand and heart. I had never lost someone that I loved as we did/do Wanda. I didn’t know the specifics on how you are supposed to react. I didn’t have instructions, or a map for this one.

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“…Come; for all things are now ready.” Luke 14:17

Those are the words that the Bride of Christ will one day hear. And we so long to hear them. However, they were not the choice words of that day.

When Mark’s call came, we knew immediately what would be soon taking place.

As Aimee urged Jeff to drive faster (he was already driving fast enough) she told him she’d pay his ticket. (What about the increase in insurance Aimee?) We were thinking like sisters. Not like responsible drivers. Yes, it’s a good thing Jeff was there. For many reasons. He’s my help-mate. He gives my heart peace when my world around me is crashing down.

But there are some things he can’t do. He couldn’t do what I wanted him to do.

When we arrived, wait, let me preface this with—-“I don’t do well in hospitals”. At all. No joking. Never have. Okay. Said that–maybe you’ll understand the rest.

When we got up on the 5th floor, Wanda’s room was now located just outside the nurses desk. We found it quickly and we all went inside. I was not prepared for what I saw. I have told you before—my face tells too much some times. I just really hope that on that day, God somehow hid my reaction.

I leaned over Wanda, kissed her cheek, told her how much I loved her, and then with tears in my eyes, went to hunt my purse. (Sounds crazy I know.)

Years ago—actually, in the early months of 1985, my maternal grandmother was very ill and in the hospital. I was over 8 months pregnant with April and having just been to my doctor to have my blood checked and walked over to the hospital where “Mamo” was. Ya’ll…I told you I do not do well—-when I saw Mamo, I almost fainted. I became very light headed, nauseated, and things started going blurry. I sat down quickly and put my head down—as far as a pregnant woman can. (Not very far.) After a drink —and some “not looking” at Mamo—I was able to pull my mind together and get up, hug her and then leave. Quickly.

Fortunately, this time I didn’t quite do the fainting thing. But—I became very anxious in my mind and heart. I picked up my small Bible from my purse—I needed to hold onto something that represented GOD—and that was it. Then I went to find Jeff.

I knew right then and there—I was NOT going to leave this hospital no matter what until God did something. One way or another. I was there. Period. So, I “thought” that Jeff might not want to “sit around” all day—he might want to get a hotel room—or go eat—or something. I didn’t want him bored—I wanted him comfortable. That’s what I was thinking anyway. He wasn’t thinking anywhere near that ball park. (I didn’t mention that cool headed Jeff does well in almost every single circumstance. In our families, he’s the one called on if someone has an emergency. Any emergency.)

He was standing just outside the door and I came up to him and said, “do you want to go to the motel and rest? Do you want to go eat? Do you want to go to the waiting room?” See? So many questions—because my mind was in a race.

He didn’t quite see my point—and with a little bit of a tone (girls you know when they have that tone)—he said, “Well Angie, what do you want me to do?”

That was it. My undoing. Right then and there—my thoughts were—“I WANT YOU TO HEAL MY SISTER THAT’S WHAT! BUT YOU CAN’T!”

Sorry for yelling like that—but my MIND yelled it. I just never said it. I was desperately wanting her healed…and it just wasn’t happening.

Coming up: “Hard Words”; “While We Are Waiting”; “Going Home and Going home”; “The Choosing of the Purple”; “Keep Coloring”; “The Hope We Have”.