 How can I put what I feel into words? I am a writer, but my mind and heart hurt too much to think too deeply. But then again, writing has always been my way of relieving stress and emotion. Nothing listens as well as the blank page, though I have learned through trials of life that there is another One Who I can go to. There is One Who is always there, not needing me to pick up a pencil, but just to whisper the words, "Lord, please help me. Give me strength to do what I need to do." And He does.
And He did it again for me and our family during the last week and a half. I could see Him orchestrating everything: from timing things perfectly; to putting people into our path who could help us; to opening doors for medical equipment that He knew we were going to need, and so much more. It was not an easy task, taking care of my dear, sweet mother-in-law, Gwen Simmons, but I did it because I loved her. I did it as a thank-you for all that she had done and given us over the last 26 years of marriage. She was a walking encyclopedia. She remembered everything she had ever read and could tell me right away what I needed to do when one of my children slammed his head into the bunk bed ladder and grew a goose egg as big as it sounds. She knew exactly what to do for diaper rash, sick children with strange symptoms that made no sense, and many other issues that arose from having five young children. And through it all, she never pushed. She just waited for us to go to her and gave advice as needed. She was the best mother-in-law a lady could ever want. And she considered me a daughter. And a friend. She always took an interest in what was going on in my life and the family. She often talked to me about music, and what I was doing with my little girls' choir or drama class. Whenever she heard a plane fly overhead, she would ask, "Is Susy flying today? I think I heard her plane." She loved to listen to stories about Alaina's job at the vet, and all the adventures the animals, and their crazy animal owners put her through. She loved to hear about Ben and his interest in learning guitar and music theory. She liked to take me back to the day when Joe walked into the house after we had first met and he told them about me. Right away she knew I was the one for her son because of the different way he acted. He had never responded that way before with a young lady and her mother's heart knew. And then when she met me the first weekend I came down in June of 1997, she saw me standing there with my church dress on and bare feet and said, "That's a girl after my own heart. A country girl." Her eyesight was fading, but she still enjoyed looking out at the hummingbirds and little house finches that came to sit on the hook I put in front of her living room window. The giant metal butterflies of bright yellow, pink, blue, and green we placed on the trees helped brighten her world for a little bit. I knew it was hard for her to know that she wouldn't be able to see much longer. Even the bright blues were getting tough to pick out on a page. Her eyes closed last Friday, and remained closed until Tuesday night, around 5:25pm, when suddenly they popped open. I am sure she was seeing the gates of heaven at that moment, and the beautiful, unexplainable colors of the celestial city. Maybe she was seeing Jesus for the first time. Whatever it was, I am sure it was beyond words. And then she was gone. Whisked away into the arms of her Saviour where pain and sorrow no longer exist. This experience has left me exhausted from the constant care, but it also has left me breathless in amazement as I see death in a new light. I always feared it before, not understanding the process, but she was so peaceful. It is a lot like birth - it happens at the moment that has been perfectly planned by God, and you can't rush the timing. There is a time and a season for both. Rest in peace, dear Gwen. It was an honor to be by your side all this time. Please give my dad a hug for me, and sing with those angels. You will always be in my heart.
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