He Is The Reason

I used to listen to John Denver. I don't know if he wrote this song, but he sang it on one of his albums--yes, the vinyl kind!

"Some days are diamonds, some days are stone. Sometimes the hard life won't leave me alone. Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones. Well, some days are diamonds and some days are stone."

There are seasons of our life that are just so much harder to take than others. Before my Momma moved to Heaven, I didn't have an easy life (who does?), but it was nothing compared to now. I left Momma on March 22, a Thursday, I said, "I'll be back." Should never have said that. Should have gone back. I got home, she was doing relative well when I left, and I was exhausted. It was my ninth day of staying from 7 in the morning until 9 at night. I was looking after Daddy, running him back and forth to the hospital--I didn't go back.

At 7:05am Friday morning, the doctor called. He said, "Your Momma took a turn for the worse last night."

My reply, "So you had to move her to ICU?"

"No," and you know my head knew what he was going to say and already my heart was beginning to stop, "we tried to revive her, but we weren't successful."

I asked, "What do you mean?" I knew very well what he meant. I guess I just needed to hear him say it.

"Your Mom didn't make it. She passed away about 5:20 this morning."

I dropped the phone, screaming as it clattered to the floor.

My life was turned upside down. One minute I was living in North America, right-side up and the next thing I know, I'm in Australia where even the water goes down the drain the wrong way. Saturday I was in the church office deciding what music I wanted played at my Mom's Celebration Service. I couldn't believe it. Sunday, the day of her service, I had relatives asking me about a trust fund, who was in charge of the money for my Gramma's funeral and what pieces of my Momma's furnishings they would like to have.

Monday my Daddy instructed me to get all of Momma's stuff out, he wanted to sell the house. We started looking at places for him to live, but in the four months since Momma moved, Daddy's failing mind made it impossible for him to move anywhere but a nursing home or in with me. I chose "in with me."

Now, Daddy is here. He sits in his chair all day and he's really no bother at all and, yet, things are different. He likes quiet. We are not a quiet household. I have three toy poodles that are interested in telling me who is outside, which of our neighbors are coming home or leaving, how many squirrels are scampering about in their territory, etc. I have an extremely messy and noisy cockatiel who is enamored with herself so she tells "the bird" in the mirror how pretty she is 450 times a day (okay, I haven't counted, but it's a lot). And, there's me (noisy by default because I'm clumsy), a husband ( a professor who is used to making himself heard over 200 chatty freshmen in an auditorium with no mic) and a sixteen year old (noisy by nature). We're not quiet. I think the harder we try to be quiet, the noisier we get. Nerves. Murphy's Law. Whatever!

And, there's the whole thing of having an extra person in your house. He's no trouble, but he's extra. Kinda like a splinter that doesn't hurt, but it makes your finger feel funny anyway.

Lessons from God. I don't know why I make this connection, but I do. Maybe the Holy Spirit. Maybe just my weirdo way of thinking. Was this how Jesus felt? He loved everyone, He was at home and yet things just weren't right. He was held captive by human skin. He endured crowds and shoving hordes trying to get a closer look, touches and pulls at His garments. He, Who never sleeps, now needed power naps and food to sustain His energy. And, the noise! What must it have been like to move from Heaven's angels singing to the complaining, moaning, bragging, boisterous, crying, wailing, din-imposing lot of human that we are?

So many challenges, but He endured them all for our sakes. He loved us so very much. His world was turned upside down, too. The Cross. NEVER had He lived through such horrific pain and agony, seperation from His Father, such debase nature, sheer and total evil. I shudder to think.

Yes, lives get turned topsy-turvy, and no, this was not the way I would have written the story, but I am not The Creator. I cannot see what roots of value are being watered and grown. I cannot see the depth with which they plunge into the Earth giving me stability. I cannot fathom the testimony I may bring now or in the future to someone else. I cannot imagine the taste of the sweet nectar of the fruit I'll bear from this one trial.

And, Praise Him, I do not traverse this growth spurt alone. God is with me, watering, gently pruning, providing the trellis with which to rest my heavy branches. And, one day, when the time comes, I will look at my Savior's beaming face and listen to Him broadcast throughout the Heavens, "Well done, my good and faithful Servant."

Will it have been worth it? Yes! I say again, "Yes!" He is my all in all. He is the reason I live. He is the reason I serve. He is the reason I love. He is the reason...