Thursday, January 8, 2015

Time as We Know It 21 Months

It has been 21 months since I looked on the sweet living face of my dear daughter. Almost 2 years.
I have been thinking a lot about time lately. 
On New Years Eve day I started getting our old bedroom ready for our company who are due to arrive on the 12th. It had become the dumping ground for all of Amy's stuff and anything I didn't know what to do with! I spent most of the day piling up stuff that didn't belong in that room and also putting Amy's things in the dresser drawers and in a box in the closet. I thought I was ready to sort through  her things but I just can't yet.  Maybe if I hadn't waited until less than two weeks before I needed the room ready, I could have done it. I don't know. I do know that I cried buckets of tears that day, just being around the things that Amy held dear or that I held dear because they were hers. I found her baby book in a box of mementos, cards and small items.  I searched through the pages like a crazy woman looking for an envelope and thought my heart would break with thanksgiving and joy when I found it. It was Amy's hair from her first hair cut.  I so regret not keeping some of her hair when she died. I know that probably sounds weird, but they did it all the time in the Civil War days. I was just so thankful to have it. I tucked it carefully back into the envelope and put it back in the baby book and closed the cover. I could not spend anymore time looking through so many memories. 
The last few days I have continued to get the rooms upstairs ready for Bill's niece, her husband, and their four children.
We have the baby crib set up in our old bedroom. I have saved it for 35 years with the thought that my grandchildren would use it. It has a drop down side and I guess those cribs are not safe anymore. So it has become a place to put all the stuffed animals that were Amys. More tears came as I realized the bag holding some of the stuffed animals was a hospital bag that said "Patient's Belongings" on it. Actually I could have screamed but I didn't want to alarm my husband. Patients belongings, yes they were. Why I chose to save that bag and put some of  her stuffed animals in it, I will never know. 
We also have a cradle that I brought downstairs to use before Will was born. It was never used. We now have a "pack and play" set up in our bedroom for Will and the new baby to come. The 35 year old cradle is outdated and too big to be used by my daughter and husband in their small bedroom. I guess it will go back up to the attic. 
Time. Thirty-five years have flown by. I thought I would pass on stuff to my kids that I have held dear, but in reality, they don't really want it. It doesn't have the meaning to them that it does to me. I have come to realize that time is not at all like I have looked at it for my 56 years. Our bodies were made for this time, but our souls, our thoughts, our feelings, are made for all eternity time.  That is why I feel like it was just yesterday that I was bringing my firstborn home from the hospital and laying her in that cradle, but my back kills me if I stand up and hold Will for more than 5 minutes! It seems to me like it has been forever since I have had Amy with me to take care of her and love on her, but in eternity time those 21 months are just a moment.
I have to keep my thoughts on eternity time and not on these past few years. God is in control of my life. My children and my grandchildren, too. I need to think of how I am going to live the next years of my life. If I live for 30 more years, I will be 86.

Here is something I saw on Facebook today that is really interesting. 
http://sfglobe.com/?id=12887&src=share_fb_new_12887 

Time. Think about time. Time as we know it and time as God sees it. 

In God's time I will see Amy very, very soon, even if I live to be 86!

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Surgery, Memories, Blessings

My husband, Bill, had a complete shoulder replacement on December 12.  It was done in a same day surgery center. We were told all about it and how it is so much better for the patient to be in his own home to recover than in the hospital for 2-3 days. We agreed and as Bill has had pain for the last 8-10 years he finally decided to have it done. He has done very well and as each day goes by, he gets stronger and in time will be back to "normal" but hopefully pain free in that shoulder. I was not prepared for what was to come.
It was a struggle for me. I wasn't expecting the memories of Amy's last weeks of life to come flooding back to me. The Surgery Center is just like a mini hospital. When I was called back to sit with Bill after the surgery, the machine was there that Amy had  that constantly monitors the heart,  blood pressure,  and oxygen levels in the blood. It was what we had focused on at that time and prayed that levels would go up, other numbers down. I felt my chest tightening up and it was hard to breathe. The nurse we had was great. She was showing me how to use the leg compressors and I told her I was familiar with them and she asked why and I told her that we lost a daughter last year after a 5 week hospital stay. She was very sympathetic. She helped me get Bill dressed (he was still pretty much out of it) and as we were each putting on a shoe, I automatically straightened out his toes with one hand while I held his heal in my other hand. Why? He certainly didn't have his toes curled. He was very relaxed! It was just an automatic thing with me, because I had done it millions of times with Amy in putting on her shoes. She always curled her toes, and I would have to knead them to straighten them before putting on her shoes. I realized immediately what I was doing and tears sprang to my eyes. I had to get out of there! But Bill wasn't doing well. He wasn't able to stand up yet and so they decided to give him another bag of IV fluid and a little more time. I went to the bathroom and cried and prayed. 
It has been 12 days now and each day is getting easier. The flashbacks of  the home nurse coming and just the little things they do, like laying a paper towel under their bag before they set it down on the sofa would bring tears. Even caring for my husband, bathing and dressing, was difficult. It was the memories not the difficulty of the task. The medicine altered his moods and he would get irritable and then his favorite TV channel (Fox News) was taken off our provider and he really became grouchy! I was not handling this well, when God impressed upon me that He had given me a gift this Christmas. He had given me the opportunity to care for someone again like I cared for Amy, to pour all my love into the needs of another. My attitude changed immediately. Now it is not a burden but a privilege to tend to his needs. 
We were able to go to church on Sunday. Bill never wants to miss a service, but the pain and the meds had him feeling so down.    Emily, Tessa and I were singing in the worship team, Laura was singing a special solo and Tessa had the offertory  so I knew he would enjoy going.  I also knew it would be difficult for me because of the memories, but I was again unprepared for the feelings. Laura sang a beautiful song about looking in the newborn face of the Savior and being a new mother herself, brought on my tears. Tessa played a song next and as she was playing the sun came out and light streamed through the windows and sunbeams filled the sanctuary. For the first time I really felt Amy was with us. It was very hard to sing after that, but the song we were singing was How Great Our Joy.   It was a perfect song that God knew I needed at that time. 

Another thing that was unexpected were all the kind cards and letters from others. We sent out over 100 Christmas cards, as we haven't sent any out for a few years. Some people didn't know about Amy's passing as we only write at Christmas. We knew it was time.  
Yesterday we got an email and also a few letters and cards from those that didn't know of Amy's death. Bill and I both cried  reading the letter from a mom of a Rett girl that I first met when Amy was diagnosed. Her daughter was a teenager and Amy was 4 years old. We have stayed in touch at Christmas ever since. Except for last year. I planned to write her many times but just couldn't do it. 
Here is an excerpt from her letter:
"I was overjoyed with a new picture of your family. I kept searching for Amy and then felt fear, terrified to open the letter. And now I weep, heartbroken for all of you. My (daughter) and I would pray daily for her special friends and their caregivers and not knowing Amy was already in His arms, her lessons taught and journey ended." 

Her earthly journey has ended, but her real journey started a little over 20 months ago.  Amy's lessons continue to teach me each and every day.  In the gift of caring for my husband, I see Amy. In holding my new little grandson, I see Amy.  In the way my children are living their lives, I see Amy. In each shining light on the tree and around the house, I see Amy. Sometimes with tears, but more and more with smiles. 

It has been a hard couple of weeks, but our dear retired pastor (the one who wrote "Amy's Story") summed it all up in the one line he penned at the bottom of his Christmas card to us:
"Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried." Isaiah 53:4a

Doesn't that say it all?  Jesus has taken my grief and my sorrow on Himself. I can truly say:

MERRY CHRISTMAS
 

Here is the Christmas picture we chose for our card this year.



 And here are two photos from Amy's last Christmas with us.
Amy loved candles