Sometimes God communicates with people through His word. Sometimes He communicates with people through circumstances. For me, God has always communicated through signs. Sometimes these signs are huge, demonstrative sightings that overwhelm me so, that I cannot even speak. Others times the signs come to me so softly and quietly that I cannot help but look up and smile. Today, my sign was soft and quiet. Although the giver never even knew God was using her, I knew and God knew, and really, that was enough.
Ever since I was a small child, I have loved red birds, especially in the winter when they sit on the back drop of the silvery white snow. Because they seem to appear more readily in winter, I seem to miss them and their beauty much of the year. And so it is no wonder that I readily identify these beautiful animals as gifts from God. However, it wasn't until much later, when I was worried about one of my children, that I knew for sure that these amazing birds were God's way of blessing me...they were His signs for me.
God, I prayed silently as I rocked back and forth in my rocking chair...where is he? Is Jeff okay? It's so awful out. I do not know where he is. I do not know if he is safe in this storm. He will not answer my calls. Oh Lord, I am so frightened for him...and I dropped my head in my hands and began to sob. Please Lord, if he will not call me, Ii I do not know...how will I ever fall asleep and get some rest? Will you give me a sign...something that I will recognize as You telling me he's okay...I just need to know...I love him so very much... I prayed and prayed all through the night as the wind whipped snow and ice everywhere. I rocked and I prayed. Prayed and rocked. And still no answer. Where are You God? Where is Jeffy? Is he okay? Suddenly the phone rang, "Mom, it's me...I just wanted you to know that I am safe and that I love you. Okay Mom?" Jeff said quietly into the phone as we talked briefly. "Don't worry Mom, I can take care of myself..."
I listened intently to the short conversation, so very grateful that he had called. I hung up the phone, stood up out of my chair, turned around, and looked at the big lilac tree out the big picture window. There sitting on snow covered branches was a tree loaded with red birds. many, many red birds...so many I could not count them. And that is when I knew...my sign...the red birds were my sign. God wanted me to know that He had specifically answered my prayers for Jeff. The red birds' presence told me so.
And that was only the beginning. If ever I was worried. If ever I didn't know what to do, God would send red birds my way to know that all was well. And send He did. Now I know it sounds silly. And I know that no one will believe it. But I do not care. Because a sign meant for me from God only needs to be believed by me.
If we had a long night of sickness, I would rock that child next to a red bird on the window sill. If I had to make a heartfelt apology that I didn't want to make, the red birds would be on the rock outside the window dancing at me when I was done. The red birds became little blessings between me and God letting me know that we were all right, He and I, that I was following Him the right way.
When my son killed himself and I lay my head on his tombstone in desperate tears to fix the situation, God sent a red bird to sit beside me and reassure me that it was okay. When I was told I may die of a brain tumor and I walked into the bathroom to sob by myself...it was a red bird that sat in the small bush outside my window and refused to leave, no matter how hard I cried. When I dodged to miss an animal in the road and almost went into the ditch...two red birds dove in front of the car at the very moment I opened my eyes to see that we were okay. So you see, the red bird has become a life saver in many ways...
And today, today when I have been missing my son so much, wondering if I am making the right decision to walk away from a job and customers that I love in order to get stronger in health..I received a knock at the door. A knock that I was not expecting, from a woman who has never been in my home, and in her hand, she held a red bird. "I found this in my mother's things and I thought of you and how much you love the red birds," she said smiling as she handed it to me. I put the shiny red bird in my hand. I stroked it's smooth exterior. I could hardly believe what I held. I wanted to jump for joy. I wanted to tell her what that small statue of a red bird meant to me, but I could not. I was too overwhelmed to speak of it. But I held it. I did not put it down. I merely thanked her and made small talk and showed her my home. Later, as I watched her leave, I looked up at the treasured red bird now sitting in a place of prominence in my home, and thanked God for this gift and the woman who brought it to me. Even though she may never know what that red bird meant to me, I will know that God knows how He used a beautiful woman with a sense of timing and wisdom to answer my prayers of insecurity. He used her to tell me that yes, I am doing the right thing staying home and that Jeff will be alright in heaven. And if I will not take the time to look out the window on a rainy day for a red bird, that He will send one to me, with friendship and love...
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Threading the Needles Because I Can't See...My Sissy...Melissa
Sometimes in life we are blessed to have a great friend; a soul mate, someone who knows you better than perhaps you know yourself. But sometimes in life we are also blessed to have a great sibling as well; a sister, someone who perhaps shared the same memories as you and knows who you were from the beginning. I am blessed to have both in my sister Melissa . Most people call her "Moe", but I have always, always called her Melissa. Ever since I could take her in my arms and stroke her beautiful little freckled self, I have been in love. I have loved her in the good times and protected her in the bad. I have changed her diapers, helped potty train her, and bought her school clothes. I have dressed her in party dresses, bought her wedding dress, and when she was nine months pregnant; let her use my clothes as maternity clothes. Heck, I even went into the delivery room with her when her two beautiful children came popping into this world. She seemed to always have been my baby girl as well as our mother's. Mom worked long and hard to support us and I never ever hated the imposed responsibility of taking care of this young child. She literally was my life at times. And when the "Boogie Man" came into our lives and times were tough and times were scary, it was I who covered her eyes and hid her until it was safe enough for her to see the light once again. It wasn't an easy task. It wasn't without it's hardships. Loving her sometimes was my only purpose- my reason to live.
And as with many sisterhoods, we grew into adults and have faced many challenges. Our paths have always been smooth and we have never been so angry with one another that we couldn't work it out. I was jealous of her when my son chose to live with her. Mad when he threw into my face that she was a better Mother figure than I. But time makes you see facts more clearly and I came to know that she was only protecting a child, my child, from the deep seeded demons that haunted him until his self inflicted death. Together we found my child, dead on an old dirt road, blood everywhere, gun in his hand. It was at that point that point in our lives that somewhere, somehow, the tables had turned, and she was no longer the baby sister, but she had taken on the role as big sister and I, the baby. My reality had ceased to exist anymore, and because she loved my children as her own, she also grieved him as her own. It gave us an unlikely bond, but one we both knew existed none the less. And so we had faced this awful death together, my sister and I, visiting and revisiting that day until we both were able to face the world without him and find some sort of "peace" about it.
Melissa has always been the wiser one. Always been the one who could hold her own in any situation. She has been the peacemaker in a family that is as dysfunctional as the sky turns gray. She is the one I turn to for advice when I am confused, and she is the one I turn to when I am so horribly lost that I cannot find my way. So it came as no surprise that she was there at my side during this illness, everyday organizing my children; finding rides, getting food, giving money, and playing Mommy to them. She was our rock. Our go to person to solve these problems that I could no longer lift my head enough to solve.
She came to the hospital to visit me in those first unknown days and it was the first time in my life that I saw "scared" in my sister. I looked into her eyes and I knew. I knew that she knew that I was in deep crap here and it was about to hit the fan. I could feel it in her eyes as she stared, studied, and questioned. I could feel it when she spoke of my children and how they were. But mostly I could see that she saw that this bond that we shared so deeply could be severed, and it was something that neither of us had ever entertained.
I called her a lot in that week I lay on the bed at home, in the bedroom, or in the chair. I called her late at night and whispered so that my children couldn't hear through tears of fear and despair, how frightened I was to die. I knew God had this, but somehow His will did not always work out to be my will, and that scared the living hell out of me- literally. I reflected with her my loves, my life, my regrets. I asked her to take care of Tim and my babies and grandbabies. I shared what I wanted for them and their lives. And I told her how much I loved her and how thankful I was that she was and had always been my best friend.
She was there when my head hurt so bad I couldn't see and she was there when I needed someone to take me potty. She was there to help me get dressed, buy me clothes, and help me have the courage to go under the knife. But mostly she was there to love me. To help me through the hardest battle I have yet to face. She was there as my sister, but mostly she was there as my friend and for that, I will always love her.
And as with many sisterhoods, we grew into adults and have faced many challenges. Our paths have always been smooth and we have never been so angry with one another that we couldn't work it out. I was jealous of her when my son chose to live with her. Mad when he threw into my face that she was a better Mother figure than I. But time makes you see facts more clearly and I came to know that she was only protecting a child, my child, from the deep seeded demons that haunted him until his self inflicted death. Together we found my child, dead on an old dirt road, blood everywhere, gun in his hand. It was at that point that point in our lives that somewhere, somehow, the tables had turned, and she was no longer the baby sister, but she had taken on the role as big sister and I, the baby. My reality had ceased to exist anymore, and because she loved my children as her own, she also grieved him as her own. It gave us an unlikely bond, but one we both knew existed none the less. And so we had faced this awful death together, my sister and I, visiting and revisiting that day until we both were able to face the world without him and find some sort of "peace" about it.
Melissa has always been the wiser one. Always been the one who could hold her own in any situation. She has been the peacemaker in a family that is as dysfunctional as the sky turns gray. She is the one I turn to for advice when I am confused, and she is the one I turn to when I am so horribly lost that I cannot find my way. So it came as no surprise that she was there at my side during this illness, everyday organizing my children; finding rides, getting food, giving money, and playing Mommy to them. She was our rock. Our go to person to solve these problems that I could no longer lift my head enough to solve.
She came to the hospital to visit me in those first unknown days and it was the first time in my life that I saw "scared" in my sister. I looked into her eyes and I knew. I knew that she knew that I was in deep crap here and it was about to hit the fan. I could feel it in her eyes as she stared, studied, and questioned. I could feel it when she spoke of my children and how they were. But mostly I could see that she saw that this bond that we shared so deeply could be severed, and it was something that neither of us had ever entertained.
I called her a lot in that week I lay on the bed at home, in the bedroom, or in the chair. I called her late at night and whispered so that my children couldn't hear through tears of fear and despair, how frightened I was to die. I knew God had this, but somehow His will did not always work out to be my will, and that scared the living hell out of me- literally. I reflected with her my loves, my life, my regrets. I asked her to take care of Tim and my babies and grandbabies. I shared what I wanted for them and their lives. And I told her how much I loved her and how thankful I was that she was and had always been my best friend.
She was there when my head hurt so bad I couldn't see and she was there when I needed someone to take me potty. She was there to help me get dressed, buy me clothes, and help me have the courage to go under the knife. But mostly she was there to love me. To help me through the hardest battle I have yet to face. She was there as my sister, but mostly she was there as my friend and for that, I will always love her.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Sewing Without a Pattern
I began to slowly call the kids one by one. I didn't know if there was a tomorrow, heck, I wasn't even sure that there was a today. I told the adult children of my fears. I told them all of the stored up feelings of love and regrets I had. I told them everything on my heart. But my little ones, I just said that I loved them. Really loved them and that I was having tests done. My voice broke as I played possum to them and never let on what big trouble I was facing. I felt like a liar. But I couldn't rock their world. Kids in school do not need to know adult stuff. They had just lost their brother. Wasn't that enough for a kid for a lifetime?
The next few days were a myriad of tests. Then the surgeon walked in. He introduced himself and I shook his hand. Tim stood up and did the same. "There's a tumor...," he began. Focus...stay focused. Listen. Stay calm. Where are you Lord. Are you getting this? Am I gonna die and leave these children. These Grandchildren. This man whom I adore? Focus. Stay focused. "It is about the size of a golf ball located right behind your ear. It has been there awhile. Ever feel fatigued? Suffered hearing loss? Blurred vision? Spots in your eyes? Lights flashing in your eyes? Ever feel off balanced? Sinus headaches? Insomnia? stressed? Emotional?..." The list went on and on. I explained that I thought I just wasn't sleeping well. I explained that I take good care of myself, eat right....
"This could be from birth....," he continued. "Good news, is that it probably isn't cancer. Bad news is that I don't like where it's located and I want to schedule surgery within the week. There's a two percent chance that this is cancer. Great odds. But there is also a ten percent chance that this surgery could result in a spinal fluid leak or some other brain trauma. The tumor is located in a very bad spot. I'll need to go in through here, " he pointed to my neck, "make an incision about six inches long and then go in through the skull....". That was enough for me. No way can this be real. Somebody pinch me. Holding in the tears. Frightened and lonely? Where is God? Hadn't we suffered enough? Hadn't I? Lord, be real. We just lost Jeff. I searched for Tim and watched him take this all in. He just sat and intently listened. The doctor left. There I sat...stunned, frightened. And feeling very alone. Alone with a mass in my body that could steal my life away. That would steal my life away for a very long time.
The doctor shook my hand. He shook Tim's. Then he turned around with tenderness in his eyes. He with his yamaka on his head, his five foot seven stature, and his " I'm barely old enough to drive boyish grin on his face"..."You need to know something else. This is nothing short of a miracle that this tumor was found. All of your symptoms are easily treatable. It could have taken years for us to find it and by then...well it wouldn't have been good. Let's just say someone in this universe wanted you very much alive...." and he grinned again and left.
I watched him leave. Tim was quiet. The quietest he'd ever been, and he's real quiet to start with. He came over and held me for the longest time. My love. The love of my life. The only man to tame the shrew. Keeper of the emotions. My father. My best friend. My children's father. Their children's grandmother. I began to beg God to let me live. I began to play "Let's make a deal" with God. But I knew better. I knew God's style wasn't a game show. I knew His will was His will and I'd have to just accept it.
The plan was to run a few preop tests that day and let me go home to rest for a week. Rest. Bed rest. Not exactly what I had planned for that week. Not exactly who I was. How do you rest. I got so restless. The waiting in that hospital was driving me crazy. The endless praying and conversations with God were going no where. Where was He and why couldn't I feel His presence?
"I voiced my Godless feelings to Tim..."Sometimes you just have to rely on faith Kari, and for you this may be one of those times...God just is. That is a fact. There's no feeling involved...just faith," Tim said tenderly as I cried.
"Kari, I am here for you. It'll be okay. I promise you...it has to be..." my best friend Katie soothed.
"Momma, it'll be okay. I know it will Momma. I promise. I'm coming home." Lacey whispered through the phone over and over again.
"Mom, God loves you and you found it when you shouldn't. It'll be okay. I promise. Want me to come home?" Tierney soothed from California.
"Momma, just call and let me know...I'm here Momma. I'm here. It'll be okay. You know it will", Josh said half convincing himself as well.
But I doubted him. I doubted them all. I laid my head on the pillow in the quiet, lonely hospital and realized it was out of my hands. I as not in control. For some reason, until Jeff died, I thought I controlled everything. But no, I knew now that I did not. I began to weep. The kid of weeping that goes so deep that you are unlikely to think clearly. I hushed up inside, closed my eyes, and rested my sore neck on the pillow. Tim was asleep in the chair. The room was still. And there out of no where, was God. I felt His hand stroke my hair. I felt the softness of His robe as I laid my head in His lap. I could feel the soft breeze of the angel's wings caressing my skin. I felt a light and peace that was so intense, I could barely breath.
"Now do I have your attention? Stop. Stop running from me. I will take care of this... I promise. It will not be easy. It will be the hardest fight of your life, but I will take care of you. Trust me. Be still, and know... Have faith in Me...", I heard God's voice stroking my heart. Calmly. Sternly. Surely.
And I slept. And I knew. I knew I would be alright. If I died, I would be alright. If I lived, I would be alright. But in that moment, for the rest of my life, I knew that God had this. I just had to trust. And I went to sleep with His arms firmly around me, and they are around me still. Psalm46:10.
The next few days were a myriad of tests. Then the surgeon walked in. He introduced himself and I shook his hand. Tim stood up and did the same. "There's a tumor...," he began. Focus...stay focused. Listen. Stay calm. Where are you Lord. Are you getting this? Am I gonna die and leave these children. These Grandchildren. This man whom I adore? Focus. Stay focused. "It is about the size of a golf ball located right behind your ear. It has been there awhile. Ever feel fatigued? Suffered hearing loss? Blurred vision? Spots in your eyes? Lights flashing in your eyes? Ever feel off balanced? Sinus headaches? Insomnia? stressed? Emotional?..." The list went on and on. I explained that I thought I just wasn't sleeping well. I explained that I take good care of myself, eat right....
"This could be from birth....," he continued. "Good news, is that it probably isn't cancer. Bad news is that I don't like where it's located and I want to schedule surgery within the week. There's a two percent chance that this is cancer. Great odds. But there is also a ten percent chance that this surgery could result in a spinal fluid leak or some other brain trauma. The tumor is located in a very bad spot. I'll need to go in through here, " he pointed to my neck, "make an incision about six inches long and then go in through the skull....". That was enough for me. No way can this be real. Somebody pinch me. Holding in the tears. Frightened and lonely? Where is God? Hadn't we suffered enough? Hadn't I? Lord, be real. We just lost Jeff. I searched for Tim and watched him take this all in. He just sat and intently listened. The doctor left. There I sat...stunned, frightened. And feeling very alone. Alone with a mass in my body that could steal my life away. That would steal my life away for a very long time.
The doctor shook my hand. He shook Tim's. Then he turned around with tenderness in his eyes. He with his yamaka on his head, his five foot seven stature, and his " I'm barely old enough to drive boyish grin on his face"..."You need to know something else. This is nothing short of a miracle that this tumor was found. All of your symptoms are easily treatable. It could have taken years for us to find it and by then...well it wouldn't have been good. Let's just say someone in this universe wanted you very much alive...." and he grinned again and left.
I watched him leave. Tim was quiet. The quietest he'd ever been, and he's real quiet to start with. He came over and held me for the longest time. My love. The love of my life. The only man to tame the shrew. Keeper of the emotions. My father. My best friend. My children's father. Their children's grandmother. I began to beg God to let me live. I began to play "Let's make a deal" with God. But I knew better. I knew God's style wasn't a game show. I knew His will was His will and I'd have to just accept it.
The plan was to run a few preop tests that day and let me go home to rest for a week. Rest. Bed rest. Not exactly what I had planned for that week. Not exactly who I was. How do you rest. I got so restless. The waiting in that hospital was driving me crazy. The endless praying and conversations with God were going no where. Where was He and why couldn't I feel His presence?
"I voiced my Godless feelings to Tim..."Sometimes you just have to rely on faith Kari, and for you this may be one of those times...God just is. That is a fact. There's no feeling involved...just faith," Tim said tenderly as I cried.
"Kari, I am here for you. It'll be okay. I promise you...it has to be..." my best friend Katie soothed.
"Momma, it'll be okay. I know it will Momma. I promise. I'm coming home." Lacey whispered through the phone over and over again.
"Mom, God loves you and you found it when you shouldn't. It'll be okay. I promise. Want me to come home?" Tierney soothed from California.
"Momma, just call and let me know...I'm here Momma. I'm here. It'll be okay. You know it will", Josh said half convincing himself as well.
But I doubted him. I doubted them all. I laid my head on the pillow in the quiet, lonely hospital and realized it was out of my hands. I as not in control. For some reason, until Jeff died, I thought I controlled everything. But no, I knew now that I did not. I began to weep. The kid of weeping that goes so deep that you are unlikely to think clearly. I hushed up inside, closed my eyes, and rested my sore neck on the pillow. Tim was asleep in the chair. The room was still. And there out of no where, was God. I felt His hand stroke my hair. I felt the softness of His robe as I laid my head in His lap. I could feel the soft breeze of the angel's wings caressing my skin. I felt a light and peace that was so intense, I could barely breath.
"Now do I have your attention? Stop. Stop running from me. I will take care of this... I promise. It will not be easy. It will be the hardest fight of your life, but I will take care of you. Trust me. Be still, and know... Have faith in Me...", I heard God's voice stroking my heart. Calmly. Sternly. Surely.
And I slept. And I knew. I knew I would be alright. If I died, I would be alright. If I lived, I would be alright. But in that moment, for the rest of my life, I knew that God had this. I just had to trust. And I went to sleep with His arms firmly around me, and they are around me still. Psalm46:10.
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