The ol' homestead

 I wanted him to live more than anything. I always dwell on him this time of year... specifically on the 4th of July at Redbud Park. That is where we go every year to watch the fireworks display and that is where we were again this year. We have been to Redbud for a great many years and it is where April dwelled in me safe and secure 2 weeks before she was born. They always have live music on the grounds and you can spread your blanket, kick-back, have a cold drink, eat Reeces Pieces, swat at termites and relax until dark. In whence you have to cover your ears if you are not deaf when the fireworks start, then shield your eyes from the blast of lights if they are sensitive. The last time I saw Rodney healthy and what I knew surely was remission was at Redbud a few weeks from his returning from M.D.Anderson and several months of intense treatment for his cancer. Melanoma. Even the name sounds ugly. And ghastly. Rodney's wife Dorine and I worked together at the school and our compadre'ness ran very deep. I had her back, and she had mine. And I remember (but try to forget) back to a time when in my I-know-it-all techi days this came into call. I was going to do a simple upgrade on a business computer for a friend who asked me to. The word *business* should have been enough for me to turn tale and walk...no run... away. But did I? NOOOO. And I got over my head really quick. One thing was tied to another which was making something else fail and I finally stopped when it was a jumble. Then, I begged on both knees called Dorine to help me in which she dispatched her secret weapon ... The Rodster. Rodney did his ghosting and then hocus pocus he made it better. It was a big thing because I almost lost all their records...everything. I was grateful to him and I swore my allegience to him after that. I learned my lesson and the only other computer I would mess up from then on would be my own (and I have succeeded there!)

They had a son that my boys played with and although together they were never overly mischievious boys, they did occasionally come up with a plan that would totally throw us off their scent. One occasion was one day while playing at their house, Dorine arrived home to a suspicious calm. Finally in confession the boys admitted to a yowling good time throwing apples up into the ceiling fan to see it smack into tidbits and fly everywhere. I swear, they were good boys, and other than these few crazy ideas they tried, they turned out good men.

Really, so sorry Dorine for you having to pick apple pieces off stuff for a year ...

Towards the end of his life I visited him in the hospital. I wanted him to fight for life. To live. And I saw that he was wanting to live. I held Rodney's hands while tears poured from his eyes. We said nothing, but heart to heart it was huge.

I went home and cried out to the Lord. Heal Him! I screamed it. Pleaded it... demanded it. I asked God for it, I wanted it, yet healing did not come. I couldn't understand it because I had asked many times and I wanted it so badly.

Surely he would not die.

But he did.

And I wrestled and wrestled with this and just did not understand why for a very l-o-n-g time.

How could God NOT heal him. He had the power to do it and after all, I asked!

But in time I grew and God spoke to my heart and comforted my heart and grew me up. I never prayed for God's will....just my own. As if I knew what was best ... better than God. There are some things we will never see the whole picure of while we are here on earth. I believe that Rodneys life had purpose and his death had purpose. One day I hope to know his purpose, and how God used him to reach others ... or to grow some people in the Lord, like me. I just don't have the answers but I have faith in God. And I believe he has a beautiful plan.

The graveside was cold cold and little pieces of ice was falling on our cheeks...and our lashes and I remember looking up to the heavens and thinking..... how odd that the weather matched how we felt standing there...

It hurts to remember. I hate pain, but I hate forgetting Rodney more. Sometimes when we journal, it's not always about the now, but about bridging the past and growing. And healing.

The most powerful thing happens when the church surrenders its desire to convert people and convince them to join. It is when the church gives itself away in radical acts of service and compassion, expecting nothing in return, that the way of Jesus is most vividly put on display. To do this, the church must stop thinking about everybody primarily in categories of in or out, saved or not, believer or nonbeliever. Besides the fact that these terms are offensive to those who are the "un" and "non", they work against Jesus’ teachings about how we are to treat each other. Jesus commanded us to love our neighbor, and our neighbor can be anybody. We are all created in the image of God, and we are all sacred, valuable creations of God. Everybody matters. To treat people differently based on who believes what is to fail to respect the image of God in everyone. As the book of James says, God shows no favoritism." So we don’t either.

  Reading Homewardbounds blog has brought me to think more about my little Justin that I lost 23 years ago. Not that it is ever very far from my mind and heart but, hearing the terrible feelings about her loss, made mine re-surface a lot lately. Many years ago when I had married young and had not had other children, I went through a terrible ordeal of losing my firstborn by stillbirth and this is the story I wrote about it several years later. The poem that is after my story and titled "The Day An Angel Came" was written by me those first few days after I had come home and he was gone.

  One of the most wonderful feelings in the world is finding out your going to have a baby. It was the Summer of 1983, when my husband Jesse and I found out we were going to have a baby of our own. We believed all out dreams were about to come true but instead of becoming one of the most joyful, it became one of the most heart-breaking. Our baby was due in April and all the pre-natal visits assured us the baby was fine and healthy.

On March 8th 1983, I was 8 months pregnant and on my way to my regularly scheduled pre-natal appointment. I was anxious to get there because the baby had not been active and I had been feeling tired and generally not well. I thought my doctor would be moving up the due date as everything was pointing in that direction. I just couldn't shake the terrible foreboding feeling I had been having.

  As my doctor walked into the examining room, he didn't seem overly concerned about my recent weight loss. "It is a sign of impending labor", he said, as was the lack of movement from the baby. It just seemed the baby was settling in for birth, as he moved the stethoscope slowly over my stomach, he listened carefully for what seemed like ages. Finally he stopped and hung his head. "If there was a heartbeat, we would have picked it up". I saw his lips move, but I didn't want to hear those words, "I'm Sorry". The baby my baby was dead! As he walked from the room I kneaded my stomach pleading, "move baby, kick, do something!"I was then sent for an x-ray and lying on the table I felt so alone, I was alone I thought, the baby had already gone. I thought my heart would break. I just wanted to go home to Jesse. Jesse! He was still at work and didn't even know.

  The x-ray showed a malformation of his little skull. He grew as far as it would let him and he just couldn't live any longer. "Please, don't let this be happening," I cried.

  Once I was home and Jesse knew, in our shock, we had the difficult time of telling our family and friends. When I walked into my mothers house, she looked at my tear stained face, I said, "The baby died", and she hugged me and we cried and grieved together for awhile. It was just not I that lost a part of me, we all lost something that day. The baby was a part of us all, we all grieved for him.

  When we found out he was a boy, we decided on the name we had already picked out for a son, but there was other important decisions that had to be made (the doctor told us things we had a choice in) The first being if we wanted to be induced or wait til labor to start on it's own. He told us as a doctor he was suppose to encourage us to wait for me to go into labor naturally, but as a caring human being he told me that carrying a baby in fetal demise and knowing it would be too overwhelming. We thought about carrying the baby until I went into labor on my own ( I could only imagine everywhere I went people not knowing, and happily asking when I was due -and what would I say???) So we spent a long night trying to decide what to do about it. Finally, by morning the decision had been made. At 7:00 A.M. we checked into the hospital and I was started on Pitocin to induce the labor.

After 10 hours of hard labor (remember they did not have to worry about the welfare of the baby so they pushed the drug hard), on March 10th, Justin was born, 4 lbs ½ ounce.

  Funeral arrangements were made the following day, since they planned the funeral while I was still in the hospital I would not get to attend. Having a funeral was a another choice we had made. We could have not had one and the "hospital would take care of the babies remains!". I was told of Jesse carrying the smallest casket they ever saw.

The hardest thing we have ever had to do was to give up our precious little baby. My salvation for the first few days was a diary I kept and wrote in and "The Day An Angel Came" was written then and was planned to be put on his headstone.

  As Justin was buried, the guilty feelings arose. "what if I hadn't...." and I could come up with many reasons. Those around me could make me feel like I had done something to cause his death. It didn't take much, I felt I was to blame. My doctor assured me that there was nothing I could have done to cause his death but you feel as though someone has to be at blame. Not long after, the roller coaster of emotions started and I was on the verge of breaking down. Oh, the anger and hurt I felt! On my mothers insistence I once called the hospital to see if there was anyone I could talk to or a support group -their answer, No, we are sorry but we do not have any one that can help you. I thought I was losing my mind and I would feel that way for the rest of my life and I knew my heart would never heal. Night after night I cried myself to sleep in Jesse's arms. He was my rock, even though he was hurting, he would continue to put me first and support me too. There was a time I really felt like I was not going to make it through it. Later, I found out that everything that I had felt -the anger, the depression, the fear I was going crazy -was all normal. Since I had no support group, I relied on my husband and my family.

  My brother and his wife were expecting their first baby at the same time. Five months after we buried Justin, they had a beautiful little girl. I was so happy for them, but it hurt so bad that I cried all the way home from the hospital. I felt I needed to be there though.

  By Winter, I was coming to terms with Justin's death and even talked to Jesse about our next baby. We were assured that chances were almost non existent for this to happen again. I knew I wanted to have another baby but would I be strong enough to get through all the concerns a new pregnancy would bring?

 Justin was a very important part of me, he will always hold a special part of my heart. He would be a bubbly 8 year old now. I wonder if he would look like little Jessie -who came to us the following Summer who is 6 and has dark hair and eyes that sparkle with joy? Or Christopher who was born 2 years later and is 4 with light skin and blue green eyes that reflect my own- Or maybe our little Chelsea that is 10 months old and brings laughter to our hearts.

  I feel so blessed to have three happy healthy beautiful children and I keep close to my heart the precious little gift I had to let go of too, too, soon.

"The Day An Angel Came" 

The love was waiting for the baby that was a part of me

The love will continue even though my son is apart from me

I loved him tho no chance to tell him so

But the Lord sent an angel, it was time for him to go

The Lord is my comfort and for everything there is a reason

The stars, the moon, the sky, for everything there is a season

Dear Lord I pray, heal my broken heart and hold my hand

For someday I know I'll hold my son over in the promised land

In peace we will be, the day we will never more have to roam

Like the day an angel came to take my baby home.

JUSTIN 3/10/83

  That is the end of my story as I recorded it back then. Jesse is now 22 (and is married with a sweet little babydoll of their own), Chris is 20 and is a college kid with aspirations of being the best darn policeman he can be, Chelsea is now 16 and waiting in the wings to see what God has planned for her life, and as life has many unexpected turns we have a sweet addition, April, who is 6. One thing that was not mentioned that I want to point out is that during my shock of it all and the concern for me, my family had his funeral while I was still in the hospital thinking that would be easier on me to deal with it all. I see now, years later that was the worst thing they could have done. I NEEDED that time to say good-bye and let go. They also had every single baby item packed and moved out by the time I came home, and for many years I couldn't figure out why this was not the best thing for me. What it was, was this. Justin existed, and by taking anything that showed he didn't and by not talking about him made it like they were all pretending he never existed, trying to protect me. Yes, it would have been hard for me to sit and pack his things away, crying over every little blanket and shirt. It would have been hard to talk about his little tiny toes and fingers. I would have cried and rolled around in pain and MOURNED him, but instead I didn't. Healing came much slower and difficult for me because of it I believe. Of course this is me talking 23 years later and how strange it is too look back and see things clearly now, when years ago I couldn't see beyond the pain. What I know is, that I have a great family that would have never have meant to hurt me and out of love they made those decisions and because of that I appreciate every one of them.

Healing did come. I can talk of Justin with great peace and anticipation of seeing him again one day. I was just an earthly mother and he has a much greater FATHER that loves him much more than I ever could.

Not sure if you have seen Ratliff City, Fox and Graham in the news yet, but it is just a jump away from us we took water hoses to my sisters house last night and sprayed her house the best we could as the line of fire was just 2 miles away and we fought it til they evacuated us. We grabbed what we could out of her house and barely made it out of the woods..... it was all on fire. As of this morning her house is still standing only by the grace of God, praying a hedge of protection around it. Nothing is stopping these fires with a front 3 miles wide and as high as an electric pole. Many houses around us have burned, many animals being shot because of being partially burned , pets, homes, all gone. It is still burning with high winds expected for the next 3 days............ pray for us all.