Three bites worth.
That's the amount of crumbly oatmeal-flour cake, with its moist chunks of rhubarb hidden beneath the golden fluff, I have left on my dessert plate. All of a sudden a wave of remorse overtakes me; I wish that I had eaten my cake slower. I'll have to savor every last bite.
I feel that way right now, as I recall the day's events and ponder what the future will look like for myself, my husband and his family. One of Ken's grandmas is at the hospital and we are unsure as to when she'll be able to return to home, let alone her current state of health. It's a tough situation. Today, upon visiting grandma at the medical center, I felt mixed emotions as I walked through the brightly-lit corridor leading to her room. The hospital where she's staying is so peaceful and welcoming. Likewise, there are Bible verses and references scattered throughout the hallways and waiting areas. I remember being in a place like this one in the not-too-distant past. However, the hospital where I spent my time was not located in Alaska--it was back on Maui. And there were no Bible references to comfort me while waiting in the lobby. The smells of Maui's main health center were quite different than the well-ventilated, fresh scent of the hospital where I spent this morning.
It's crazy how experiences in our everyday can trigger memories from the past. Maybe this is something unique to me. I have always been commended on my ability to recall past events with prolific detail but I don't usually feel that my ability is such a gift. Today included moments like that. Moments when I was transported to a place and a time that felt incredibly real, in its emotion and experience.
All of a sudden, I am back in the Intensive Care Unit at the Maui Memorial Hospital, sitting beside my 74-year-old grandma, watching her body deteriorate--her lungs had collapsed after filling with fluid and she was literally being pumped with oxygen through a breathing machine. My right hand strokes her soft gray hair, as she rests peacefully in a half-propped position. She's in a coma right now and I'm not sure if she can hear me, but I start reading to her anyway. I have some Bible verses that I brought, along with a wealth of stories from my day at work. Grandma loved hearing my stories, I would think, as I now shared them without any type of acknowledgment on her part. I clasp her warm hand and hold it steadily as I whisper into her ear that I'll be back again soon. I love you, Grandma.
And now I'm back. I realize that I'm not on the little island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean that I called home for so long. I'm actually in the rugged, mountain-strewn state of Alaska. I'm also not sitting with my grandma who is dying of emphysema. I'm with Ken's grandma, and she is awake and coherent, able to respond to my stories and recognize who I am. This is a different situation, although it brings up memories that I had tried to bury so deep.
It's hard watching loved ones suffer and experience pain. I wish that God didn't allow us to walk through such things and yet I believe that one day, perhaps in Heaven, it will all make sense. For now, I can only trust that He is good and place my hope in Him. I still miss my Grandma every day. The hardest part, I think for me, is not being able to talk to her. She had such a funny sense of humor--her Bronx, New York upbringing added to her candor. Quick-witted and extremely wise, Grandma provided a sense of stability in my life. When she died, it took so long for my grief to subside. I still carry with me the invisible wounds of having lost someone so dear.
My emotions are fresh, my pain laid bare before me. As I spent time with Ken's grandma today, I thought back to all the times I have been blessed to walk with people through seasons of suffering: as a Stephen Minister (lay counselor), a Memorial Service Coordinator, and also in just being available for people I've met along life's journey. It's so hard to watch people hurting, but I am thankful for the way it pushes me to see beyond this life, into the hope of what's to come.
So, here we are, now living in Alaska, and pressing into Christ for hope as we walk with family members through the aging process. I am confident that God has us here for a reason. In response to my constant questioning, I've heard Him whisper in my ear, "for such a time as this" (from the story of Esther). I want to be faithful to that calling. Six years ago, if I hadn't moved home to Maui following college, I would have missed the opportunity to walk my grandma from this life into the next. Instead, I answered God's prompt. I'm amazed at what God has brought my husband and me through these past few years of marriage, and I am confident that He will continue to meet our every need.
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