Hearts in Service

  It is easy to give thanks when things are going well. When my cup overflows and things go my way and all is right in my world, "Thank you, God," rolls off my tongue.  But when life is hard and you feel like all you can do is cling to the vine or the cold wind of anxiety will blow you away, it's a lot tougher. And yet, on the night Christ was knowingly going to His death, He broke bread, lifted it heavenward and gave thanks.  "Thank you for this cross you have given me to bear, Lord."   May I be able to pray the same. When Job's children, servants and material possessions, and even his health had been taken from him, He blessed the Lord. "Naked, I came into the world. Naked I depart. Blessed be the name of the Lord."   May I be able to say the same.  As Stephen was being stoned, he cried out words of forgiveness for those who were throwing the rocks. "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." "Lord, do not hold this sin against them."  M

My sister and I were so blessed to have the opportunity to do what most don't have the chance to do which is care for our mom at the end of her life. It has been a hard month, but one I would never take back. I'm thankful I made the decision to not go home for Thanksgiving because Mom passed away on Tuesday night. And I'm thankful that God gave us what we desired which was to be there with her by ourselves when it happened. We laid her to rest the day after Thanksgiving in a small ceremony officiated by my brother-in-law. She loved autumn so we picked colors we knew she'd love. She is in a crypt next to my grandmother and my stepdad has a space next to her. I have many overwhelmingly sad emotions this morning. My mom was our greatest supporter and the one I could always turn to when I needed a listening ear. I also feel like I've lost a dad too. My stepdad has dementia and is going to live with his daughter. He will be well cared for and loved, but mom was our conne

Tightly gripped fists, trying to control each moment, each event, each activity and often, each person in my life. So often I say, "God is in control," but more often than not, it's Terri in control. As I sit here day after day, waiting for my mother to pass, one thing is apparent to me. I'm not in control. There is nothing I can do regarding the circumstances that happen to me or another. I can't control the pain that another experiences. I can't control death or life or anything in between. I'm not in control of the fact that my son did indeed receive a positive Covid test, or that I canceled Thanksgiving with my family to stay here with my mom and sister. I'm not in control of how long this is taking. The only control I have is in my response to things that come my way. I can choose to react with anger and denial. I can choose to react with fear. Or I can choose to be at peace and to trust that God's timing is always best. That in the middle of

I'm up and typing this at 2 in the morning because once again, I cannot sleep. Some of that is because I'm feeling torn. A week ago we thought my mother would only have a day or two more. She hasn't had anything to eat in 3 weeks nor anything to drink in 7 days. And yet, she is still hanging in there.  She is being given round the clock pain medications and most of the time now she is unresponsive, except when becoming agitated with pain. We are tired and worn out. Most nights we are only getting a few hours of sleep. Writing is therapeutic for me and usually once I get things off my chest, I can get to sleep so here I sit. My sister and I have divided the work load with some overlap. She is so much better at the gentle nursing side of things and has done a lot of the care of mom. I'm more task oriented and so, have been giving some of the medications, keeping our stepdad entertained, preparing some of the meals, and doing some cleaning. There is a giant-sized task ahea

The story of Alice in Wonderland is about a girl who chases a rabbit and falls down a rabbit hole into a strange and wonderful new world. I've always liked the story even though it's a bit bizarre at times. My life is feeling a bit like Alice's lately. It seems as if I've fallen down a rabbit hole into a surreal time and I can't get out of it. Unlike Alice who saw it as an adventure, I'm not enjoying this at all. And I'm feeling selfish. Selfish because I don't want this reality. I don't want to be here missing my daughter's move into her very first apartment. Missing news from my middle son because every time he calls I'm in the middle of talking to a nurse or caring for someone else. I'm sad that I'm missing out on events with our new church family because I'm 12 hours away. I don't like the possibility that I may have to miss Thanksgiving with my children and husband. I feel selfish because I want my life back. Here I sit a

Tension grips the air at times. At other times, love washes over us. There are times of laughing so hard one can barely breathe and times of crying so hard that one can barely breathe. Times of memories. Times of angry words. Times of asking for forgiveness. And it starts all over again. I feel like I fell into a black hole and I can't get out of it. I came down to take my mom to an appointment and this is where we landed. I know my sister feels the same way. Medical jargon is being thrown at us left and right. Medicines and feeding tubes and syringes. There are moments when hurt feelings ensue and other times when great memories are poured over. I'm meeting my stepdad's side of the family for the first time and we have been crying and laughing and hugging. My sister and I have been in ministry long enough to know that all of this is normal. We've seen other families go through it and our time has come. But it's a hard road to be walking down. A precious moment came

Life is fragile. It changes in a blink of an eye. When it happens to you it doesn't give you time to breathe and it doesn't give you time to think. When the life-altering change happens, you do what you have to do. My mom landed in the emergency room on Monday and we have found that the cancer has grown so much that it's cutting off parts of her GI tract. She will be coming home on hospice care sometime this week and the doctor said it could be 6-8 weeks or a bit longer, but she is at the end of her life. Hug your family members. Forget the hurts. Ignore slights. Remember the good times. Laugh, love, enjoy life while you can. It's fleeting. I'm so thankful my sister and I are here to care for my mom and to care for our stepdad. I'm thankful that some of his children are here to help encourage him as well. God has allowed us the privilege of taking care of our mom as she has cared for us in our lives.

I've always been a voracious reader and even as a teen some of my reading was different for a girl my age.  This morning this book leaped into my memory. It's called The Singer by Calvin Miller.  The Father and his Troubadour sat down Upon the outer rim of space. "And here, My Singer," said Earthmaker, "is the crown of all my endless skies-the green, brown sphere of all my hopes." He reached and took the round new planet down, and held it to his ear. "They're crying, Troubadour," he said. "They cry so hopelessly." He gave the little ball unto his Son, who also held it by His ear. "Year after weary year they all keep crying. They seem born to weep then die. Our new man taught them crying in the Fall. "It is a peaceless globe. Some are sincere In desperate desire to see her freed of her absurdity. But war is here. Men die in conflict, bathed in blood and greed." Then with his nail he scraped the atmosphere And both of th