Even If….

The family was all gathered in the waiting room at Vanderbilt hospital awaiting the doctor’s report. The year was 1994, and we were anxious to hear if Daddy came through his lengthy brain surgery intact. Doctors and nurses came to the waiting room to tell families their loved ones were doing well, so I knew immediately something was wrong when our family was called to a back room so the doctor could talk to us.  

There had been some complications and Daddy had a massive stroke during surgery. His entire left side was not responsive, and he would be in the ICU for many days that followed. The doctors informed us over the next week of many issues he had because of vasculitis of the central nervous system. They said he would never walk again, he suffered vision loss, and his memory would be compromised.   

Daddy was later released to the rehab hospital, and after being home for a while, James and I returned to Nashville for a visit. James, just months old, was in his carrier and we took the elevator to the third floor. As the doors slid open, tears immediately flooded my eyes. There was my daddy, the rock of my life, sitting in a wheelchair, down to about 135 pounds. Because of the left-side neglect of his vision, he didn’t see me which was a blessing because I had time to gather my composure before approaching him.  

Those months that followed I prayed hard for healing. I read and prayed healing scripture for him and had faith that God could and would allow him to be totally healed. My dad’s stubbornness paid off and healing did take place, yet not as much as I wanted. He did walk again, but for the next 16 years until his death, he suffered with many medical issues. It was hard for me to rationalize how my high school math teacher and one of the smartest men I knew, now worked out Saxon Math sheets daily to keep his mind as sharp as possible.  

I clung to specific passages that are highlighted in my tattered Bible that still has Lynda Ruth Sumner on the front. Daniel, chapter 3, is the story of when Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego were being thrown in the blazing furnace. They proclaimed, “The God we serve is able to save us from it, and He will rescue us from your hand. But even if He does not….” These men of God go on to proclaim they will not serve or worship the gods of King Nebuchadnezzar.   

I never knew how the life trials in my 20s would help sustain me through the death of Sophia. It was months after her funeral that I realized the song “Even If” by Mercy Me, that was sung during her life celebration, was about those same verses that carried me through Daddy’s sickness. 

Here are some of the lyrics to that touching song:  

I know your able and I know you can Save through the fire with your mighty hand But even if you don’t, my hope is you alone.  I know the sorrow and I know the hurt  Would all go away if you just say the word,  But even if you don’t, my hope is you alone. 

I know we are living in life-altering times during this world-wide pandemic, but while we are home with our families, we have the opportunity to instill in them the faithfulness of God.  Parents, teach your children that life is not fair. After all, if it is fair, we would all be destined to eternal hell. Teach them instead to stand on the promises that God will be with us through these trials and difficult times.  

Don’t save your children from conflict, from getting a B in 9th grade, or don't call another parent to work out an issue that teenagers need to navigate. Don’t let them believe God is like Santa Claus just passing out blessings and protecting them from all devastation. Don’t protect your children to the point that when life around them shatters, they don’t have the skills to deal with the hurt, the anguish, and the tears.

  

Life will deal us all a heavy blow, if we live long enough. Let me repeat: Life WILL deal us all a heavy blow. We have to be prepared to handle it and clearing the disappointments from your child’s life doesn’t do him or her any favors. The child needs to develop skills to handle those devastations.   

I wish I could say our family motto is a beautiful Bible verse, but it’s not. It is “Suck it up.” There was not a lot of sugar coating the truth around this house. I always loved them, but I loved them way too much to prop them up on false narratives and empty clichés. If they wanted to succeed, they needed to work hard. If they wanted good grades, I’d help them study, but the result would be because of their hard work, or sometimes lack thereof.  

But these boys – no, men – learned first-hand that life indeed was not fair. Yet, they stood behind their sister’s casket at her funeral, and proclaimed that God is still good while life's situation seemed completely bleak. They knew life was hard, they knew they had to suck it up, but more importantly they knew and know that God's promises are true. God doesn’t rescue us from all our troubles; he holds our hand as we walk through these difficult times together. 

The song continues with   It’s easy to sing  When there’s nothing to bring me down.  What will I say  When I’m held to the flame like I am right now. 

Now, as the fire still smolders around me, I continue to be forged while I proclaim God’s goodness in this life among continuing trials. And I will be forever grateful for a Godly daddy that gave me that example through his own struggles and showed me how to smile when life does not go quite like I planned.  

The Illegitimate Dog

Take a walk through any dog park and somehow it always seems the dogs people choose – or the people dogs choose - resemble each others' attributes. This was the case with Sophia and Mocha, a puppy who has eyes that charm, a magnetic personality, energy abounding, and who never meets a stranger.

And that’s how our tail - I mean tale - of welcoming Mocha into our family begins: never meeting a stranger. Sophia comes in the back door one cold, January night with a friend and the most adorable four-legged critter we had ever seen. With a wrinkly nose and big paws, the tiny puppy wagged her tail as she bounced from person to person begging for attention. It was apparent this dog was well-loved but yearned for continual attention of human interaction.

The story told by Sophia and her friend Jada was they found this black-as-soot dog walking down the center of the dirt road in the dark of night. It was late on Thursday and of course we could not send her back out to fend for herself from the coyotes and weather. I knew something was awry, continually questioning the true origin of this boundless, energetic pup, but the girls - looking dead into my eyes - spoke with authority as if they were speaking the absolute truth.

But moms usually know when lies role off the tongues of their young, and this was one of those times. We kept the puppy overnight with Sophia understanding she was going to have to find the rightful home of this dog. When efforts to post on social media and calling around to the veterinarians was not a priority, it simply confirmed my suspicion that my adorable daughter was a liar!

After not sleeping well for two nights, I was hoping Sophia would come clean with the truth. Matthew, during a car ride to the Davies, was adamant with Sophia that she should tell us the truth. Upon their return that Sunday afternoon, Sophia turned to Richard and me with alligator tears and puppy dog eyes, grabbed our hands in hers and came clean. She said she was sorry for lying to us, and she told us that Mocha was Jada’s dog and she needed a new home.

This relationship that started in deceit has grown into quite a love affair.

We adopted Mocha into our family, but Sophia’s punishment for lying was she now was financially responsible for the beginning vet bills and paying for Mocha to get spayed. While undergoing surgery to not have puppies, the wonderful workers at Quailwood contacted Sophia to see if Mocha needed her eye lids clipped while she was under anesthesia. Being part Shar-Pai, Mocha had battled eye issues and anyone who has tried to give a dog eye drops knows it is not pleasurable. That day Mocha received an eyelid job. I still can’t quite come to grips with how this dog could have plastic surgery before I do.

While the children were young, I could hardly keep up with cleaning after them; no way were animals coming into the home to make more of a mess. Unless it was an iguana or guinea pig in a cage, I was not interested with inside pets. Through they years, our animals' time inside had increased, but Sophia was well aware that no pets were allowed on the bed.

I went to her room one day with Mocha walking close behind me. I stopped just passed the door to ask Sophia, who was reclining on her bed, a question. Mocha did not slow down at the door but trotted around the bed and in a single bound leapt up on the bed. Sophia’s eyes widened as if she’d been caught yet again. It was apparent Mocha had mastered this move long before that day.

Mocha has now grown into her paws, still has the cutest wrinkly nose, and is powerful enough to bound over rows of cotton in a single leap. She goes on adventures with our other geriatric dog Rosie, coming back after many hours or several days. Mocha often times ditches Rosie to venture further than Rosie is comfortable with and recently took a week-long adventure having me rethinking the quality of current restraint measures. After a long day of fun, she also nestles in nightly on her Serta dog mattress in the family room, snoring with great contentment.

Spoiled? Maybe.  Well….yes. She and her bestie Smudge, Sophia’s cat, are now like my Grands. I know it sounds silly, but they are the closest things I will ever have to “children” of Sophia. Here’s hoping both of them have nine lives!

*Pictured above are Mocha and Sophia on their journey to Pensacola to visit cousins Jessie, Andy and lab Vadar.

Overwhelmed

My hands were leaning on the bathroom counter, my head bowed, with tears dripping off my cheeks. I wasn’t praying; I just could not bear to see the reflection in the mirror any longer. I did not want to be here, with my left knee on the scooter and my back still radiating with pain, starting a New Year without Sophia. How do I go another day – another year - with pain, with the deafening silence of a premature empty nest, trying my hardest to muster up enough strength to start another day.

This was too much like before. I was reliving the accident over and over every night when I climbed in bed with ice on my ankle and then recalling the sting of pain as I woke up unable to walk again without shoes. This latest surgery had been only two months ago, and the joys of the holidays and being with the children during that time made the first weeks bearable. Now I was left to suck it up, get dressed and wrap my ankle in that confining brace yet again.

I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with the pain. Overwhelmed with the heartache. Overwhelmed with daily activities that drain the life out of me.

It was a rough, first full week of work after the holidays with meetings each day to spur the activities that would be taking place this semester. I thrive in a scheduled life, but getting back into the swing of things this time seemed to take much more effort than anticipated.

To end my week, I had lunch with Carolyn. I am extremely thankful to have her in my life, but not thankful for the reason that brought us together. Her daughter Hollie and Sophia were in show choir together and passed away just months apart. We sat down in a booth at a local restaurant, not looking around or paying attention to others enjoying their lunches. We shared our feelings, hurts, tears and it was time for me to head back to work.

The waiter came to our table and informed us someone paid for our meal, and we immediately wanted to know who. We asked for details of the person, but the staff honored the donor’s wishes to remain anonymous.

Did that person know our story? Did he or she know the pain we shared and that while being together never eases the emptiness, we are thankful to have each other to lean on knowing we understand the deep hurt. Tears began to sneak out between our eyelashes as we tried to hide them from the young waiter. We were speechless for a while, gathering our emotions that now come so quickly to the surface. Since we were unaware of our surroundings, we honestly are uncertain who it was that blessed us that day. It may have been a close friend or a person who was obedient to God’s leading and had no idea the struggles we face daily.

I was overwhelmed as I left our eating venue. My tears were on a steady march from my eyes driving back to the office. I recalled what appeared to be little things that happened all during that week, but it was really God’s reminder the He was taking care of me. I was overwhelmed by the acts of kindness shown by others.   

• The two cases of Diet Dr. Pepper in my chair at work from a co-worker
• My yard being cleaned and mowed by husbands of my Bunko babes
• The research my friend did to help me find a counselor who specializes in trauma
• A new washing machine installed since the last one died before Christmas
• Starting a new Bible Study at church about trusting God
• My Bunko babes that were coming over that night to help me take down and pack up my Christmas decorations.

Sometimes we miss the small ways God is taking care of us when life deals us a big blow, like the death of a loved one. Isaiah 41:10 says, “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you; Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.”

Back at work, I sat at my desk with my hands on my keyboard, no mascara to be found, still overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed that each and every day begins and ends without Sophia here with us. But God reminds me – sometimes repeatedly – that He is still the one in control. No matter my heartache, no matter my physical pain, He is a God who can be trusted with my life and my damaged heart.

The Huddle of Christmas

Decorating for Christmas usually is one of my favorite things to do because being a December baby myself, I celebrated my childhood birthdays by matching the colors on the ends of limbs to the colors on a green pole, followed by the large colored lights clipped to every other stem, all to build a tree. I continued to celebrate my birthday with my own family by decorating our home with Christmas cheer - a Christmas tree here, a wreath there, garland down the staircase, candles in all the windows….all to celebrate this time of year. 

Many nativity sets adorn our home and somehow the spacing of those figurines involved in the scene never quite get placed like those in a Southern Living magazine. I distinctly remember when Matthew was much younger, and he placed the animals, shepherds, wise men, Mary and Joseph in the barn huddled closely into the manager where Jesus lay. If it had been a living nativity, baby Jesus would not have been able to breath!

That year, everything within me wanted to spread the story characters out for a more proper viewing, but Matthew informed me, “Everyone wanted to see Jesus.”  This was his idea of the best placement for all involved. 

And so the crowd remained huddled around the manger.  

It was that year I realized the decorations did not have to be strategically placed, I did not have to just put out the “pretty” ornaments, nor did I have to have my home immaculate to throw a party! Our family knew the center of Christmas, and it was important that we all huddled around for a good view.

Times change and the family looks different this year as we add to our family through marriage and miss the presence of our Sophia. Yet, the center of Christmas remains – Jesus.

You may be missing someone in your Christmas huddle this year; you may be ecstatic there are new additions through marriage or births that have added to your huddle. These huddles do not always remain, so we must be mindful to cherish each moment of every Christmas we have with our loved ones knowing we are not promised our huddle will look the same next year. Gather around those you love, celebrate the joys of the year, encourage relationships, relax, and enjoy the simple - yet quite possibly the most important - things in this world.

May you have wonderful Christmas season enjoying those in your 2019 Christmas huddle.

Wheelchair to 5K

Three months was adequate time for my talus bone to heal and now it was time to put weight on my left foot. Appointments with the physical therapist now replaced my triathlon-training program. Instead of swimming laps in the pool, I picked up marbles with my toes and dropped them in a cup. The bike rides were traded for heel raises and toe points, and miles of running were exchanged for exercises with resistance bands wrapped around the balls of my feet.

To say I felt defeated would be an understatement. I would easily run miles, not fast – but far, and now I could not even stand without assistance. Since the doctor cleared me to put weight on my foot, the process began with a scale and I pushed down with a certain amount of weight and held it, gradually increasing the amount of pressure over time. More and more exercises helped me get a bit more comfortable with the thought of putting my entire weight on my injured extremity.

I have never endured as much physical pain as I had with my foot, so to “just walk on it” not only took physical training, but mental focus. The strengthening of my foot and left leg gradually took time, and if someone has wondered what happens when a leg is not used in three months, let’s just say, it’s not pretty. Literally, not pretty. There was absolutely no muscle tone; atrophy of all the major muscle groups and my left butt cheek just sagged! Yep, there needs to be resistance to keep a lifted derrière.

With months of therapy and diligently doing my physical therapy homework, I was up and walking. It still hurt with every step, but I was making progress. I received a Fitbit for Christmas to track my steps, not only to make sure I walked enough, but also to ensure I did not go over the number of steps that would cause me additional pain.

Goals have always been important for me, and I knew I needed something to accomplish, some sort of a goal to conquer, to keep me focused on my walking. Since Sophia’s birthday landed on a Saturday this year, I knew there had to be a race I could participate in to honor her and accomplish a 5K, somewhere away so we could be inconspicuous.

On May 11, 2019, draped in Minions with Richard, Daniel, Megan and Matthew by my side, we began my first 5K since the accident. (James and Naomi joined us by being virtual participants.)  I of course could not run, but the race also had a 10K, so I was certain we would not be the last ones. The race was the day before Mother’s Day and fittingly called the Super Mom Race because of the timing in the year, but my feelings did not reflect that title.

A more fitting name may have been Surviving Mom Race, but it was a victory for me, even in this quiet, low-key setting. We finished the race, received our t-shirts and medals, and left to grab lunch at a nearby restaurant. Nothing about that day seemed right, especially having lunch without Sophia on her birthday – she should have been there blowing out 19 candles on her cake. Instead, we sat quietly, overlooking Lake Lanier, with tears in our eyes wishing we could have another birthday with her.

My race in this life looks differently now, and I am not sure of the terrain up ahead. “Let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.” (Hebrews 12:1) I would have gladly chosen a different course in this race - this one has had more unexpected twists and turns than I could have ever imagined. However, I am hoping and praying with my upcoming ankle surgery, my continued race will be with less physical pain. Despite the challenges I face, I plan to run with endurance and perseverance, and to always be faithful to the One who has my whole course laid out for me.

A Year of Tears

A year ago today, we sat beneath a green tent with family in padded, covered chairs and me in a wheelchair. The tent gave us shade but not a lot of relief from the July heat in South Georgia. And in front of us was a casket, beautifully draped with yellow roses, holding the Earthly shell of my beloved 18-year old daughter.

Since the accident on June 30 that altered the trajectory of my world, memories, bad dreams, and tormenting thoughts have caused the tears to flow on a daily basis.

I do not remember birds chirping or the noise of cars passing by on the nearby highway as I do today sitting at the cemetery.  The ground on top of the casket is now covered with live and dead flowers where grass is beginning to crawl through the dirt and weeds stretch up around her nameplate. Truthfully, I was probably too medicated from surgery and my own injuries to absorb all the details of that day.

I have learned since that time of others’ lives during that horrid week last year. Many cut vacations short after hearing of the accident, some left later than planned, some returned early, and some postponed it all together.  Tears were shed by many family and friends who mourned the loss of Sophia.

Now after wiping away tears each day for a year, maybe I’ll make it a day without puffy eyes, smeared mascara, and a pounding heart. Maybe I’ll be able to put in contacts again without fear of them swimming away. Maybe I can wear something other than tennis shoes with dresses. Maybe I’ll lie down to sleep without dread. Maybe my nightmares will turn into sweet dreams. Maybe I’ll wake up and not be in physical pain and can take a step without my ankle hurting.

During the course of this year, however, I have found myself laughing again. I’ll catch myself singing around the house and in the car once more. I have improved physically to the point I can work more hours, pull weeds in the flowerbed and start more projects in the shop.

There is much relief that this year of “firsts” is over. Yet, it is hard to imagine I will have to do the rest of this Earthly life without her. Sophia is not going to make a cameo appearance at Christmas or send me a sweet card at Mother’s Day. Life has changed, and I do not like it. I want her back, which unfortunately is not an option.

So, I’ll trudge through, trying to take it one day at a time. And maybe, just maybe, one of these days will be free of tears.

“And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes…” Revelation 21:4

Forever 18

I was feeling a bit successful as I ventured to my counseling appointment in a nearby town alone. It was only a few months after the accident, so even though I could not put weight on my foot, I was getting proficient on the scooter. I decided to head to a few stores to pick up items, and I needed to run by Bed, Bath, and Beyond for a gift.  

I got the registry and headed through the store with speed. After I found the wedding gift, I handed it to the clerk and asked her to leave it at the front so I could peruse the clearance areas. And then standing over the clearance table, it hit me. Hard. 

With tears streaming down my face, I realized I would never get to pick out wedding gifts with Sophia. She would be forever 18 in my mind, and I would miss many huge life events with her. I will never see her…

          -  walking across the stage for her high school diploma
        -  eyes light up as she tells me about finding Mr. Right
        -   dancing with Richard on her wedding day
         -  face light up in excitement when she tells me she’s pregnant
         -   raising my grandchildren
       -   trying to hid the gray in her hair
        -   holding my hand as I age

Inspirational speakers will tell us to look forward and not dwell on the past, but in this situation, I have to hold fast to those memories we shared, not the ones we will never have.

We have done amazing things with Sophia in her 18 years:

                  -   Skiing in Colorado
        -   See her get baptized
       -    Backpacking in the Cohutta Wilderness
        -   Watching her dance and sing on stage
       -   Seeing her love many different types of people
       -  Plan a Minion 18^th birthday party

                 -  Run a family marathon relay

I hope that with each birthday that passes, we will be able to focus on those things we shared more than those we did not. She lived a wonderful life and is loved by many. I simply wish I had more years to love her on this earth.