Moments

Moments 

 

Over the last two months, I have spent more time in or traveling to hospitals than I would have liked.  Instead of being the one offering words of comfort and hope, our family has been on the receiving end of the words of comfort, the acts of service, and the prayers.  God has been present with us every step of the way.  I am thankful for our church family(s) and community(s) who have loved on my dad, brother and his family, and me and my guys in the midst of losing my mom.  

 

My mom went into a local hospital on June 8^th, and she was transferred to a larger hospital on June 13^th.  During her stay in the hospital she endured numerous poks and prodes, countless x-rays, CT scans, MRIs, had a colonoscopy, a stint placed, had a drain put into her lung and had that lung drained numerous times, had an NG tube inserted and reinserted, and was on varying levels of oxygen during her time in the hospital.  On June 25^th, she transferred to hospice, and the focus was on keeping her comfortable until she passed.  She breathed her last on June 29^th.  We had her funeral on July 5^th, and on July 6^th, we went to visit Joe’s family.  Jacob had a seizure on July 6^th after we arrived in Pennsylvania.  One ambulance ride and ER visit late,r we learned Jacob’s seizure was most likely a febrile seizure and that he had tested positive for 3 different viruses.  Thankfully, he bounced back well and had no other seizures.  Apparently, febrile seizures are common; hopefully, we are done with those now.  I think our medical bingo card is full.  

 

Last week, Peter and I were back at the hospital for his yearly overnight EEG.  He has 27 leads attached to his head, face, and upper chest.  The process of getting them on and off is the worst and smelliest part of the process (second place is getting them removed, which he also hates).  Then we hang out in a hospital room.  Peter gets anxious about procedures and tests.  He asked why he had to keep having these tests and if this was the last one.  I held his hand as he cried crocodile tears and reminded him of how brave he was, and tried to count down until the yucky part of the procedure was done.  I’d give anything to swap places with him or to somehow stop the pain.  But I couldn’t stop the pain or the procedures for my mom, and I can’t for my boys either.  

 

Recently, I took Jacob to the dentist.  As we were driving, he asked where the hospital was.  His sweet three-year-old brain is trying to figure out why grandma, who was such a big part of his life, is no longer around.  The only things he understands about heaven are that Jesus and grandma are there and that it is far, far away.  

Grief, sorrow, joy, laughter, worry, and peace have been intermixed this summer.  Amid all the grief and hospital time there has also been sweet moments of joy (celebrating all three of my guys birthdays, the Peter competing in the Ohio Special Olympics, spending time with extended family, Joni and Friends Camp, Jacob taking swim lessons and loving it), moments of just ordinary life (eating meals together, doing laundry, walking the dog, sitting on the deck) and moments of frustration and exhaustion  (potty training Jacob, things not going as planned, missing mom and the many ways she was an amazing part of our team).  All of these moments mix together to form our lives.  There are many things out of our control, but how we respond to the moments determines a great deal in life.   

 

I don’t want bitterness to creep into my heart.  It doesn’t help anyone, it doesn’t help me process my grief, it doesn’t take the rough edges off of life; in fact, it adds more.  I also don’t want to wallow in grief, anger, and sadness.  But there has to be room for those emotions and places and spaces to deal with those.  In the midst of the hard, there are echoes of joy, of grace, and of blessing.  A number of people gave us wind chimes after Mom's passing.  We have them hanging on our back deck.  Whenever we hear them, we say hi to Grandma.  I try to be thankful for the memories and times we had together.  The other day, Jacob climbed so he could make the wind chimes ring and said, “Hi Grandma, I love you.” I said me too, buddy me too.  He then transitioned back to playing.  I think he is on to something.  When the moments of sadness and missing her come, feel them, lean into them, and then continue on living.