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I remember the day my brother died. Of course I remember, but sometimes I just feel the need to relive it all again. To write of it, or talk of it. My mom and my dad stood on each side of his hospital bed. I looked at just the three of them and it reminded me of when he entered the world. Just him and his parents. I think that was one of those moments when I thought he was dying. We had such hope for him to recover. The doctors thought we were crazy. I don't blame them. We knew that God could do anything, but more than that we had been praying in Morgantown that if God was going to save his life or take him home to Heaven that he would do it quickly. After that things just seemed to roll quickly into place. He was suddenly being airlifted to Pittsburgh. We thought this meant that God was working quickly to save his life, because we thought that's where he needed to be to be healed. Looking back I see that God still answered that prayer. We just didn't understand. He was moving him to Pittsburgh to die quickly.
It was during the night. We were losing him. None of us really slept or showered or ate regularly. The waiting room for the ICU was the shape of a U and we had overtaken one whole side of the U. We were laying on the couches, not sleeping. My sister-in-law might have dozed, but she woke with a start, half out of it, sat up and said, "He's going." She went into the ICU to see Danny. You know he's in pretty bad shape when the doctors and nurses just let you walk in at any time. There was a mostly naked man having medical personnel perform some tests, but no one tells us to leave. It's just one big room separated by curtains. Machinery everywhere. My brother was the youngest one there.
I will never forget his eyes. I cannot even write it yet. Maybe someday I can. My dad didn't want anyone taking pictures of him. I wish I had a camera. Not that I really wanted a picture, but my sister never even saw him. The last time she saw him was about 8 months earlier when the family came up for a visit. Then he was cremated and so she never saw him at the funeral. She couldn't be there before the death, because she was nine months pregnant. (She was actually in the hospital the day he died having a baby.)
Some say that it is a bright spot in the midst of all the pain to have a new life. But I don't see it that way. It feels like her birth is overshadowed by this darkness. This pain that is brutal. Her birthday will come and no one will feel like celebrating -- or they will, but feel like they can't.
Danny kept getting worse that night. I went in with my mom and Liisa. I knew this was the last time with him. I told him to hold Ian and tell him we love him, then I told my brother I loved him and said goodbye and walked out. He was losing circulation -- causing more organs to fail, limbs to die. He wasn't getting oxygen to the brain. They suspected brain damage and then the eyes...
When they finally turned off the machine that morning, my husband said his heart rate was all ready at zero. It was so silent. (Except for crying.)
Then my mom touches him (she was probably already touching him, my mind is fuzzy at times, and says, "We'll see you again, Dan."
She was on the other side of the bed beside Liisa and the pastor and his wife. I was between my dad and my husband. They closed the curtains around us.
Then Eric says, "I'm still holding out -- God could raise him even now if he wanted to."
Liisa says, "God will hold you by his righteous right hand, He will strengthen and help."
I just cried and cried and cried and cried. I wanted to collapse on the floor. I wanted to run away and run and run and scream. I know God will help -- I've seen it. But I think there is a time for grief, not lack of faith, just not needed to fit everything into neat answers. (I am not saying that was what they were doing -- they were sharing their hope with us all, but for me, I just needed to cry.)
Then the kids came. It was so soon, right after almost. I don't think they even knew their daddy was dead yet. They are so young, so precious. I hate death!
We left the hospital. It was cold and snowing. My brother's change of clothes for his hospital recovery were in the car still. We didn't have to pay for parking -- I guess that's a perk when someone dies.
We arrived at the home where we were staying. It was like a small hotel/home for people that had family in the hospital and needed an extended stay. The lady in charge met us in the entry and put her arm around me. She said, I know you're hurting a lot... She was balm to my soul. The pain was so tangible. Like my whole body was bruised or sore. We went to our room. I'm not sure where my boys where. Maybe my aunt still had them. She met us in the room. I remember her, but I can't remember much else. I took a shower and then I did collapse. The water poured over me. I couldn't stop the ache, it felt so real. Like my body was physically beaten. I cried broken, half-hearted, pitiful noises. Then we slept.

Goodbye

Michael Jackson has died. It's strange to me -- it seems like he's always been a part of my life. Not that I've ever been a fan, just it was that scandal or the next. It seemed like I was always hearing about him and now he's gone. I am saddened by his meaningless existence. Not to be harsh, just that, what does he have to show for his life? Obviously many think he was a talented musician. My own husband, who is much more a music buff than I, has told me that he had talent. But it just feels so empty, and hopeless for him now. His tragic life had a tragic end.

Merciful and Mighty

This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.

It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.

They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.

Who says

People say you should sign a will. The night before my brother went in for surgery, we reviewed his will. It's one thing to plan your life when you are alive, but when you are gone, the choices aren't about you. If things go wrong -- "Just pull the plug, I know where I'm going" my brother says. What? Easy for him to say, being well, talking about something that to him isn't even a reality. You just don't think that it will really happen before you go into surgery. But then when you are lying there, supported by machines, bodily organs failing, unable to talk... do you really expect your wife or your mother or any family to just "pull the plug". The choice was not his to make.

Where Can I Go to Resign?

Ok, so I'm definitely not a perfect mom, but why couldn't I even be an average mom. Why don't my children listen to my instruction. Why don't they believe that I am trying to do what is best for them. What do I do differently? What have I done? Why do they keep sinning? I suppose I know in my head that they are sinners, but sometimes it just shocks me when I see how bad they really are. I guess without Jesus there really is nothing good, and I should be shocked when they do something good.
I must be crazy to be a mother. I mean, who signs up for a job like this? A job you pour your entire life into, a job you spend hours in teaching, correcting, pleading; only to be ignored. A job that you are so committed to, and your heart is so attached to, that you can be so deeply wounded. Who agrees to this kind of pain? The pain of pregnancy, the pain of birth, then the pain of them going their own way -- bent on destruction.
Not to mention the work! It is endless and mostly unappreciated. Then there's the sacrifice -- your body, your health, your freedom.
I must be insane.
I think of my own mother. I think of all the trouble I caused her, and she still loves me. I think there is Hope. I am in a battle, and must fight to the death.
I think that death might be mine.

The Perfect Moms

Why do I keep reading about mothers that have figured out how to raise their children? What is wrong with me? Why do some people find the solution and my kids don't seem to change? I know my job is not to change them, but to teach them; still I long for results. I know that only God can change their hearts, but why does it have to take so long? Last night as my son was listening to the Bible on cd as he fell asleep, I prayed that God's Words would not return void; my words seem to return void.
Then there are the mothers that say the stage I am in is easy, just wait until they are such and such an age. If I fail when it's easy, what will I do when it is hard?
I am not the answer to my problems.

God is Love When it Hurts

I have read the story of John the Baptist many times. I have read about his miraculous birth, his life of preaching, his strange diet, his time in prison, and how he was eventually beheaded. But you know how you can read over something many times without noticing it and then one day it just stands out like a black eye. I was reading the story of when he was in prison and asked his disciples to go and ask Jesus if He was the Messiah or should we be waiting for another. It's incredibly strange really. John was the forerunner for Jesus. He preached the Kingdom. He baptized Jesus. He saw the Holy Spirit descend like a dove. He heard the voice from Heaven. He was the one who said, "He [Jesus] must increase and I must decrease." They were cousins. They probably grew up together. He knew all about Jesus. So why ask if He was the Christ? I wonder if John was looking around him and it just didn't make sense. John was in prison. John was trapped. He didn't think that was part of the plan. What had happened? John believed. He knew in his heart that Jesus was the Savior, but I wonder if his emotions and circumstances were trying to overtake his faith. I have been there.
Seeing as I'm falling asleep I guess this is the end.

Ouch

My mouth hurts. Just returned from the dentist. I have to go back tomorrow and then next Tuesday.

Shari, the Heel

It's so easy to love myself. Not that I am that lovable. I just tend to think mostly of me. This morning I was reading in my Bible. God says, "Give up your life to gain it. Hold tight to your life and you will lose it." Sounds crazy, so I hold fast to my life. I hold tight to what I want -- my ideas, my timing, my plans. It's hard for me to be flexible.
My husband says he is going to be home from work early and then we are going to my mom's house to work on a project. Then he calls to say he will be home late and we will be going to my mom's house tomorrow instead. I seem a little unhappy with the new plan while we talk on the phone. He comments -- you don't like to have your life revolve around someone else, do you? Ha! What a crazy question, of course I don't. But why not? What makes me think I should get what I want? What makes me think that my plans can't be changed, that I should enjoy someone's company, that I should be appreciated?
This sounds a little harsh to me. In one sense it is right for a husband and father to spend time with his family and to put their needs above others. But in this imperfect world that we live in, what if he can't? What if he doesn't want to? Will I hold tight to my desires, to what I want my life to be? Or will I love unconditionally? Will I cheerfully let my life revolve around someone else?
Yesterday I failed. I did not willingly give up my life. My husband came home after dark. The kids were in bed. He decided to sacrifice for me. He massaged my tired muscles and listened to me talk. The Bible speaks of the goodness of God leading to repentance. He used the goodness of my husband to lead me to repentance. I am so in love with myself.
When I survey the wondrous cross on which the King of glory died...
I pour contempt on all my pride.

Chocolate versus Strawberry

I am always surprised when I hear someone say that they never wanted a sister -- or that a brother was as good as a sister. I suppose that some have had bad experiences with a sister and that is almost tragic. To borrow the words of my sister. "Sisters are like chocolate. Brothers are like strawberries." It's easy for someone to say that they like strawberries and don't miss chocolate, or even feel the desire to eat some, if they have never tasted it. But once you have tasted chocolate, it draws you in, it entices you. Perhaps chocolate covered strawberries are the best.