8/17/12
Yesterday was a "puddling" kind of day….and it ended up running in to this day.
"Puddling", for me, as faithful readers know, is my euphemism for crying---
especially the blubbering kind. It can start with a knot in my throat, a
welling up of tears, escaping tears that trickle down as does my drippy nose
(neither of which I can feel) and eventually the blubbering comes. It’s not a
pretty sight.
Puddling
#1 occurred 8/13 when I heard disheartening results of CT Scan of dear, dear,
friend and sister in the faith.
Puddling
#2 occurred when I heard her always chipper voice explain that she knew it was
bad when Dr. Mullins asked her if she had made plans for her hubby, who is both
blind and paralyzed---since a 2004 accident. Since the diagnosis of stage 4 adenocarcinoma last summer, I know the prayer of her heart has been to live to take care of
him.
Puddling
#3 As I drove to pick her up to take her to her chemo, yesterday, K-LOVE blared
out the last verse of Matt Redman’s “10,000 Reasons” as I started my car.
And on that day when my strength is failing
The end draws near and my time has come
Still my soul will sing Your praise unending
Ten thousand years and then forevermore
Puddle
#4 occurred when I left there remembering the last time I had been there with
another dear friend whose hubby was closer to death than any of us knew.
My
emotions were set up to “puddle” and the numbers increased though I kept
repressing (somewhat) ‘til I could “blubber” in private.
But
God…….gave me these Claudia induced “glory bumps” as I recalled these two days.
Everytime
I’m with her, she blesses me by her “dance” with Jesus. It's like she's already soaring above the clouds. abunDANCE!
Her Discovery
of God in this situation is so intimate, that she said, "It’s as if I can feel
His breath.” She’s Accepted her mortality without morbidity. She’s grateful
for the time the Lord has given her to “pack her bags” and train everyone to
help care for her Terry. She Notices God’s hand at every turn and thanks Him.She Celebrates time with family. I even watched her “train” her
8 year old granddaughter, whom she homeschools, to administer the “prick” and
the measuring of her hubby’s blood sugar. More than
all of that, she never misses a chance to Extend her story as an encouragement to others so that they
might know the One who is the source of her strength. Tuesday night, with all
the pounds left in her little frame, she spoke BIG encouragement to a
group of women in the “Way Out” ministry, an incredible ministry that exists to help women leave the sex
for sale industry and discover the fullness of life in Christ. She contends her
pain is nothing compared to their incomprehensible pain of rejection and abuse.
That, my readers, is Encouragement---the capstone of her most recent struggle.
Today,
following transfusions at Baptist East, we headed to Jones clinic for a
necessary shot. Entering the large room, I saw the plastic bags holding the
slowly dripping meds that were hanging from the IV poles; I saw blinking monitors, the baskets---available with blankets, and the stacks of charts/files at the big nurses desk. She,
on the other hand, saw people. She smiled and greeted folks she knew and then
stood, stock still.
“What
pretty music,” she said.
I
hadn’t even heard it----though it was certainly a step above any kind of “canned”
music typical of doctors’ offices.
Heading
over to the couch to await her nurse, we saw the source. A dark haired woman in
a pink and red stripe sweater with gold “Gigi-type” sling sandals, was gently
strumming a beautiful, small Aziliz harp. A gift that soothed.
CP
closed her eyes and listened. I “puddled” quietly.
She
doesn’t “puddle” I do. She smiles through it all.
