August Blog - Women's Ministry
The last time we met here online, I was talking to you about my hubby’s job loss, a layoff due to the closure of the company he worked for. This happened May 1, 2024. There are several steps in this story God has given me/us and what waits for us below came next.
It was later in May, and the warming trend for spring was in full swing. It was a weekday, a great day to be working. To give you some background, I have two siblings – an older sister and a younger brother.
We share conversations on a regular basis over text in our “sibs chat,” typically revolving around caring for and coordinating care for our aging parents. On any given day we can have several exchanges of conversation in addition to work messages. My phone buzzes regularly during the week.
On this particular day, I was in between meetings when I received a message on the “sibs chat” letting me know that my mom had been admitted to the hospital for dehydration. They were running the typical tests to make sure everything else checked out okay, and they said not to worry about it. The medical team was taking normal precautions while administering fluids.
My momma — a lovely person. She was a band majorette, high school Homecoming Queen and one of five kids who grew up in a small town in Iowa; full of humor, laughter and thoughtfulness.
Upon her admission to the hospital this time, she was scheduled to spend the night there until the test results were back. One 24-hour stay turned into 48, and more testing added to her weariness and all the poking and prodding carried through those hours.
My family members went to see her during that time. No test results until about days later. As I sat in her room, seeing her personal internal light diminish due to the medication they had her on, conversations were difficult. Sitting in her shaded room with the blinds drawn closed because of her visual light sensitivity, no sound emitted from the TV; just the steady pulse of beeping machines monitoring her vitals. The consistent rhythm of these reminded me of ocean waves as they steadily reach the break in the shoreline and flow into the beach.
My dad, close to her side and stroking her head to try and “help her get better." His hand also had a steady rhythm. My brother was close by observing. Other family members in and out. Nurses were entering her room, taking blood samples, blood pressure checks, administering medications and so on for days.
Days passed, then at the beginning of June, at 9:30 AM, her doctor came into the room with results from her cumulative tests. He gingerly approached her bed and began to speak. Listening carefully, we heard words that traveled through our ears, informing our minds, and resting in our hearts. My beautiful momma had kidney failure and liver failure that accompanied her ongoing struggle with congestive heart failure.
The words triple-morbidity fell hard when we heard them. Those words were followed by words, palliative care and hospice. My momma, 90 years old, was not eligible for treatment. Time stops when you hear these words, which seem to move slowly through your body. Questions arise. And through family conversations decisions had to be made. The world around me was swirling with “busy,” and yet time stood still in my mind.
God’s gift — one evening, while visiting my mom and waiting for orders from the doctor, my sister, my daughter and I were with mom. She had been taken off the extra meds and had more “normalcy” in her personality. She chatted, laughed and smiled when she could. Then, out of the blue, she asked for the phone.
My sister and I asked simultaneously, “Do you want to make a call, Mom?”
She replied, “No, Bill is talking to me; he told me to hurry up and get up here.” (My uncle has been with Jesus for over 40 years.) “My mom is telling me to follow the light …," “There must be a problem, something’s wrong, I don’t see the light!”
I told her, “Mom, you can’t see the light yet because you are still talking to us, but it will be okay … soon.”
To which she said, “Dying is hard. I keep seeing all these people waiting for me, my dad, mom, Bill and Harvey ... We’re all going to have a big picnic … Bill has to make the ice cream.” (My uncle Bill made homemade ice cream for every family picnic, ice churned, some of us ate watermelon, others chased after fire-flies.)
Tears well up in our eyes.
Then she exclaimed, “Hi Bob!” (My sister lost her hubby five years ago).
The three of us girls are all looking at one another, teary, overwhelmed, joy-filled, thankful, abiding in Christ as witnesses in the LORD and our momma/granny. Can you believe God gave us this gift, the privilege, the honor of hearing and watching … so humbling on so many levels.
She continued, “Come on, Jesus, it’s time for me to go.”
More tears …
Hours later, the next day, my nephew, a recent graduate, was hooded as a doctor in mid-March and came from Indianapolis to see his “granny." As we were waiting and preparing for her move from the hospital room to hospice care, my nephew knew of a condition my mom had that would cause her transfer to be very painful.
When the nurse came in, he asked her for a particular medication to prep her for the transfer. He knew this medicine was difficult to get. The nurse hesitated, seemingly accessing the need and availability of the drug, then said, “Yes, I’ll get the doctor's approval and get it for her.” A provision from God to have given my nephew the knowledge, presence that day, and care to watch over my mom. She was in his abundant and loving care.
Mom was transferred to hospice at their retirement village here in Colorado Springs. For the next few days, every hug, kiss and “I love you” was felt deeply, cherished and held. Since it was in the same village where they owned a home, my dad could go see her anytime he wanted. He could walk there it was so close. God sees the need, He’s our provider, our protection.
Our daughter and her family were staying with us between military assignments. This was another gift from the LORD — they were between bases for two months, here and present, to be with “granny” in her final days.
Ladies, only God feeds our needs. Our grands wanted to go see “granny,” especially interested and intent was our oldest, who is nine. He asked questions about her, understood, and had a deep longing to see her. We took them all to see her, and he desiring to be first, stood by her bedside, held her hand and told her all the “dad jokes” he could muster. He delighted her soul and caused her to laugh heartily; she deeply enjoyed those moments she had with him and the girls. The two girls brought homemade crafty gifts to place by her bedside. She was blessed by those hugs, kisses and “I love you”s were shared.
God let me have a conversation with my momma that I had prayed about for years. We closed a chapter that had wounding in it. It was beautiful. God mends brokenness and replaces it with love.
My hubby bonded even deeper with my dad – God’s provision.
On Tuesday, June 10, I went to see my momma in the morning before I started work. We held hands, we hugged, I laid my head on her shoulder, she patted my head … and we were there together.
She asked me, in a strained voice, if my son-in-law had made it safely to his new assignment. Always checking on those she loved. I answered, “Yes, he did, and he’s doing well.” Letting her know that our daughter and grands were still with us, and they were doing well, too. My sister was there, and my dad loved her through words and touch. I stayed for over an hour. I got up to leave, and she asked, “Where are you going?” I replied, “I need to work for a little bit, but I’ll be back this afternoon.” She said, “Okay.”
My dad's sorrow was overwhelming; he jolted into sobbing. His head shaking, would drop to his hands and then his knees in deep gut-wrenching sobs of love for his bride. My dad’s short-term memory has been challenged for a few years, but this loss was exasperating and difficult for him. Details of this could take up pages, but if any of you have had parents or loved ones with declining memory, you understand what happens.
Tuesday, June 10, 3:07 PM
Me: “I need to leave … need to leave work and go see Mom.”
A phone call at 3:31 PM: “Mom is gone. She passed at 3:30.”
My mind went silent, and my body was depleted of everything. No more “mom hugs,” no more kisses, no more “I love you"s from her lips” … but memories, sweet, cherished and tender memories.
There have been days that I have needed a “mom” hug since then, and I’m sure those of you who have lost your moms or dads have felt this too. Perhaps a few haven’t. But I can say to you plainly, I have.
What is God’s gift in this? He asked me to walk slowly through Psalm 23. My walk was beautiful through this Psalm. God showed me His deep, abiding compassion for the loss of many kinds and how He guides us as a Shepherd.
I lack nothing; He is aware of those needs. Green pastures are places of rest, and He cares that we get rest; sabbath. He restores me always. While I may pass through a valley, I won’t go through that alone. He guards me; His pointed spear protects me from enemies and directs my path. Using His Shepherding staff, He leads me to hope and to be fed by Him, the LORD – He is my defense.
As a believer, He anoints my head, separating me from my enemies and setting me apart. I can fear in front of Him, but He leads me away from fear to His nurturing arms. I am secure in Him because of Him. He is merciful and grace-filled. He will never leave me. This Psalm is warming and a symbol for me of a deeply felt hug from God.
Do you remember what it feels like to get a hug from your Father or from a loved one, your momma? Have you hugged those you care for? Have you hugged someone who just needs the reminder they are seen, they are loved and they are worth hugging? Can you step into a hug knowing God first gave you the deepest of hugs imaginable?
Hug someone today and remember what it’s like to be welcomed into a space, His Kingdom. Make a memory and keepsake hug … remember what it’s like to be sweetly hugged.
In the days after my sister, daughter, and I experienced and watched my momma talk to those who had gone before her to the heavenly realm; my grief changed. God has shown me in her passing that not only is she with Him, but she is also happy, she is whole, she is with her heavenly family, she followed His light, she was met by her family, maybe having a picnic … above everything else, she is home. How can I be sad about that? Do I miss her? Yes; but I’m so deeply thankful she is whole through Christ. Amen, ladies, amen.
To be continued: aligning how God has and is stretching me, loving me, hugging me.
- Hubby’s job loss: God’s provision
- Mom’s illness: God’s planning
- She’s now home with Jesus: God detailed her arrival home
- What’s next: God is still showing up in the details
- Traci Hollingsworth