In case you were wondering, NO you cannot get a few minutes extra sleep when there are 2 small dogs in your bed growling as they protect their chew sticks from the 1 large dog who is running (literally running) around in the bed with a plastic water bottle in her mouth...not even if you have a king sized bed.
Tori the wonderdog aka "the granddog" is visiting with her grandparents, Uncle Adam and her furry Uncles, Harry and Zeus. The granddog is lively. She is much more lively than her senior citizen furry uncles.
She likes to run A LOT. She likes to play A LOT. She likes to chew A LOT. She likes to give you kisses A LOT. She eats A LOT. She drinks A LOT. She likes A LOT of toys. (Detecting a pattern here) Middle aged grandparents with a 7 month old granddog is an interesting combination, especially when the jealous senior citizen dog Zeus wants to be held all the time. I think he is afraid that his place as "Mommy's baby" is at risk.
I will be going back to praise team practice tonight. It will be the first time for singing since my friend went to rest with Jesus. Yes, I'm a bit nervous that my emotions will get the best of me, but I felt a strong pull to get back "in the saddle" so to speak.
Which reminds me, many people have asked about my recorded version of "The Rose" which was played at Angie's service. Here is the story on that. Ronnie and I began to think about the service in the week prior to Angie going home to rest in Jesus. We talked about this idea and that, with our goal that the service would be representative of Angie's life. We decided to have the children of 7Mile sing some songs since Angie has devoted at least 2 decades of her life to teaching the children at 7Mile. She also sang with the praise team at 7Mile, so we asked the praise team to lead the congregation in 2 songs.
Ronnie texted me after I got home from their house on Friday night, Feb. 1. The text said "Can you sing "The Rose" or get someone who can for the service." I sang this song when they got married in Sept. 1985. I'm notorious for failing at singing when my emotions get high. It's awful. So after talking about it with John, we decided I would record it.
So after a long day of being with Angie as she continued to fade and a long day of being with friends who had come to visit with her, John and I went to the church. Let me also say that during supper that night, I ate some pinto beans which had been mixed into some taco salad. I'm allergic to pintos. I know...big, fat, stupid food allergy. Anyway, I took 3 benadryl to attempt to avoid a ER visit. It was successful but I was groggy.
I was able to record "The Rose" without any meltdown. I think the benadryl helped. After listening to it several times, John suggested the song needed harmony. So he recorded me singing the harmony and put the tracs together. The end result was me singing harmony with me. Kind of neat huh?
After recording, John burned a CD and we took it back to the house late on Saturday night and played it for her. We also had some other songs already recorded so we put a few of those on the CD as well. It does my heart good to know that she was able to hear the song. I sang it for her.
At the service, Ronnie said that that "The Rose" would be played as we exited the building. He said their life together began with that song and it would end with that song. Breaks my heart, but so glad that I was able to do it Thanks to everyone who have had such kind words to say about the recording.
Now for the question everyone asks: "How are you?"
What I say: "I'm fine. It will get better."
What I mean: "My friend died I still can't believe she is not in a place where I can go see her. I'm lost, lonely and so deeply sad. I'm trying to figure out how to live this new normal. Please be patient with me, I tend to be quiet and reclusive these days. But, it will get better."
What I don't mean: "Please ask me lots and lots of questions about how I'm doing."
Have a blessed Wednesday. Oh and "Happy Birthday Tricia!"
I am a traveling girl. I love to go and do and see and be. I feel most settled when there is a trip on the calendar that I can work toward. Perhaps that's why dreaming of heaven soothes me so. I know I'm going. Jesus has saved my soul and I live for Him. Not perfectly, but if I could do it perfectly, I wouldn't have needed Jesus. I don't know when my heavenly trip with happen, but I know it's coming. I wish it could come soon.....Back to earthly travel....I adore having a lovely trip on the calendar so I can anticipate, plan and save.
This past 14 months has put me in a place I never dreamed I'd be. I feel fairly strong spiritually, but emotionally and physically I'm drained. I'm learning how to live in this new normal without my friend. Quite honestly, it took me a long time to accept the new normal of my friend living with cancer. But now so soon, to live without her in the wake of cancer....I'll just admit it...my boat is rocking and I'm searching for calmer waters to set my anchor.
My heart is called to and soothed by my Celtic homelands. Being in Ireland and/or Scotland just does something magical to my heart, mind and body. My connection to those lands is so strong I'm sure you can see it, hear it and feel it when you are around me.
Soooo....as of today we are planning a trip to Ireland and Scotland (including a pilgrimage to Iona, a visit to Ramsey castle, time in Derrykeighan and a deep cleansing breath at the Giant's Causeway) in late spring, early summer 2014.
My shoulders relaxed and I breathed deeply for the first time in 14 months today. My grief is fresh and new and will continue on it's long, torturous journey, BUT there is something beautiful just on the horizon for me to focus on.
If you need a wee smile, just spend a few minutes with my granddog Tori. Smiling hasn't been easy for a while now, but when this crazy, long legged girl with the most beautiful under bite comes flopping into your lap, you just have to smile and laugh out loud...a lot.
She loves you HARD. I have the bruised arms to prove it. She's a big girl who believes in her little brain that she is the size of a lap dog. She LOVES all of us but she ADORES John and she worships John David. She is a precious, very high maintenance girl, who's Grandmommy LOVES her.
We went to Cole's season opener baseball game last night. They won big, but it was COLD and the wind was ridiculous. Being at his game without Angie is beyond weird and sad. But it was nice to sit with friends and family and enjoy the night, even reliving some priceless Angie moments.
I miss my friend more than I ever thought I would. I knew it would be bad, but I didn't realize I'd live out Psalms 42. But the good news is that just as Psalms 42 describes your tears becoming your food, it also reminds me that even in this "I will yet praise Him". Grief is a lonely, very personal journey. But, I have faith God will use it to make us all better,stronger followers of Christ.
- Two weeks ago this morning during the wee wee hours, my friend left this world to rest in Jesus.
- One month from yesterday is St. Patrick's Day.
- Several people told me to go to the cemetery and talk to Angie. "It will help" they said. So I went. I cried a lot and I'm so weary of the tears. I've cried every day since her diagnosis. I think she would want me to stop crying. I tried to talk to her at the cemetery but I felt silly. I felt like I was talking to the dirt. I didn't find comfort. I wish it was comforting because then I could have a physical place to go. But alas, it did not help. I did however find myself annoyed by the dying flowers. So I asked Ronnie if I can remove the dying arrangements. He said yes.
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- Here is some wisdom God just gave me. Angie and I were able to maintain the relationship we had for so many years because we respected each other's space. We didn't HAVE to be together all the time. Sometimes when we were together, we didn't talk at all. We were just there...together. She liked going to the quiet monastery with me because we could be together in silence together...loving each other...within a comfortable space...together....but separate. That is a rare combination. We never hovered. One day after we knew the cancer wasn't going away without a miracle, I told her "I feel the need to hover." She said "Go ahead....hover." That is when I officially knew it was bad.
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- My granddog is coming to stay a few days with us. Tori the wonderdog is arriving soon. That should liven things up a wee bit.
At our house, St. Patrick's Day decorations go up the day after Valentine's Day. I'm not in the decorating mood. My heart hurts, I'm so sad and I'd prefer to just crawl in a hole and weep by myself. I'm a loner in grief I've discovered. All my emotions are raw. I cry at the drop of a hat. My friend is gone and I still can't believe it. Seriously can't believe it. I feel as if I'm watching a bad horror film and at any minute she is going to burst through the door and say "SURPRISE, It was a bad joke. Sorry."
But the true is "it is what it is". My best friend, my right arm is not coming back and I have to figure out how to do this.
One day at a time....
So today I am doing something normal. I'm decorating for St. Patrick's Day.
Doesn't everyone put up a St. Patrick's Day tree, garland, wreaths and lights?
I miss my friend.
I haven't written anything in a long time. My heart is hurting.
At 3:17am on Monday, February 4, 2013, my friend Angie "slipped the surely bonds of earth to touch the face of God."
She fought the good fight. She kept the faith.
Our last 3 weeks with her were a whirlwind of emotions as we watched her fade right before our eyes.
One week ago today, we laid the body of my best friend into the ground to await the trumpet call when the dead in Christ will rise. I promised her that I would stay with her to the end and I did. I left her house a few hours before she slipped away, but I stayed at the graveside until the last shovel of dirt was laid. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I promised.
During those last precious days, when I would first go into her bedroom, I always told her I loved her. And when I would leave, I would always tell her I loved her. I wanted so frantically to make sure she understood just how much I treasured her.
I read scripture, mostly the Psalms to her. I read every prayer I could find that would give us comfort. We prayed over and over and over. We sang. Well, I sang while she listened and sang in her heart. For a few days, she would actually mouth the words with me sometimes. I sang every song I could think of, but the song she seemed to relax to the most was "Softly and Tenderly". I could literally see a change in her breathing and the struggle when I sang
"Come home....come home...ye are are weary come home. Earnestly, tenderly Jesus is calling, calling O Angie, come home."
When I realized how much it relaxed her for me to sing that song, I sang it as much as I could with her. Many times I got as close to her as I could and sang a whisper into her ear. I have experienced many holy, sacred moments in my lifetime, but none compares to singing with my friend as she got closer and closer to seeing the angels of glory escort her into eternity.
On November 30, 1980 I became a born again Christian, child of the King. The song that was sung the morning I gave my life to Christ, was "Softly and Tenderly." In the last few days and hours of Angie's life, it became a victory song to remind her that we would all be ok and that her boys would be taken care of. But more importantly, the song called her home...her eternal home.
I've learned so much as we've walked this journey called cancer. I want to chronicle it so that her future grandchildren will know just how marvelous she was. And I will post some of that.
But for now....I miss my friend.
On December 29, 2011, our world stopped spinning and we just seemed to float in space with no help from gravity. My friend was diagnosed with ovarian cancer...and time stood still.
It came from as far out of left field as one can imagine. In fact, when Ronnie told me the diagnosis, I told him he was wrong. I told him several times he was wrong. Then I had a complete meltdown. The kind that results in laying down in the middle of the dining room floor and sobbing ugly, ugly tears.
I have never felt so helpless in my life. Never. When someone you love has cancer, you all carry the burden of cancer. It's a group experience with someone who is individually suffering. Strange.
I am a researcher by nature. When I started getting sick with what we now know is Dyautonomia, I researched everything. I am a seeker. I want to know. I want to understand. And I wanted to understand Ovarian Cancer.
The hardest part is that Ovarian Cancer doesn't want to be understood. It wants to confuse. It is straight from the devil. It tries to deceive us into believing it's bigger than God. In fact, the more we learn about Sarcoma Ovarian Cancer, the more evil it gets and the more it seems to mock it's victims and even the medical community.
Along with being a researcher by nature, I am also drawn to help. I want to actively do something to help get. us. through. this. I'm out of my comfort zone when I am helpless. I suppose we all are.
But in times like this, God is at his best. Psalm 34:18 reminds us that God is close to the brokenhearted and those crushed in spirit. It's when we are lying on the dining room floor, weeping until we are limp and dry that God is the close enough to touch.
There is a term in Celtic Christianity called "Thin Places". Thin places are described as physical places, experiences and moments in time when the veil between here and eternity is as thin as a piece of thin fabric. I love the term. I have felt many thin places in my lifetime and have also been blessed with some very thin moments and experiences. And even though we have learned about ourselves, our faith, our God, our friendship and the preciousness of life, I would have preferred to avoid this particular thin experience called "Angie's Cancer".
God is so willing to meet with us in our grief and confusion.Yet so many times we are so caught up in the emotion and chaos of trial that we forget to be still and listen. We have the "Cry out to Jesus" part down. It's stopping to listen to what He has to say that baffles us.
I have a text saved in my phone from my friend Terri. It came when I was having a day of melting down. We got bad news again and I was spinning quickly out of control. My text had said, "I DONT' KNOW WHAT TO DO!" Her text was simple and profound "I know...be still."
Prior to December 29, 2011, God had been pushing me along a path of prayer. He led me to particular experiences, people and places that called me to drop onto my knees and listen to Him, not talk at Him. I didn't understand why it was happening, but now I see He was preparing me to endure the heartache of watching my friend in the most incredible trial of her life. He wanted me to pray and listen like never before.
There are lots of books about being a cancer patient, being a caregiver for the patients, even being a parent to a cancer patient. But I have yet to find one specifically about of how to love a friend who has cancer through the journey. I need a book. Books help this researching side of my personality cope.
I have found many scriptures that have been the lifeline to which I've held onto as I have watched my friend suffer quietly. I've found old, time tested prayers that soothe the soul and calm the spirit in times of ultimate chaos. Our Lord promised that if we seek, we shall find. And as always, He has been faithful to do that, especially now.
I've been journaling my experience. I have a book floating around in my mind. I have many random thoughts that have helped me. Bizarre things we have done as friends to try and keep things as normal as possible, even when life is anything but normal.
I cannot begin to put words to Angie's experience, but I can put words to my own. It may never make it to a book. But at the very least, perhaps God will allow me to pray with someone like me, who feels completely helpless in the chaos of cancer.
Please keep praying for my friend.
