Down the Rabbit Hole: November 22 A Twist of Fate; Mrs. G's Story

Down the Rabbit Hole: November 22 A Twist of Fate; Mrs. G's Story: The Navajo Indians believe that when you share your story you pass along your spirit to those the tale is given and the person lives on ...

November 22 A Twist of Fate; Mrs. G's Story

The Navajo Indians believe that when you share your story you pass along your spirit to those the tale is given and the person lives on through the retelling of the story.

While living in Dallas, as a nanny, a friend of mine asked if she could pass my name and contact information to a church member. Her mother was not able to take care of herself and she needed someone to stop in once a day to make sure she was taking her medications, eating healthy, and helping keeping her clean the apartment. It would also be a paying position and I agreed. In a few days the woman’s daughter, I will call her Mrs. G’s daughter, contacted me and we got together to talk about what her expectation were. She had shared that over the last year her mother had run off everyone who she had hired and was a true southern spitfire. Mrs. G’s daughter hired me and we drove over to Mrs. G’s apartment and the introductions were made. She was very warm and receptive to me and even offered me a cookie. I shared that I would be over after 6pm as that was when the family I took care of parents would be home and could spend as much time as she liked. I even shared that I love to cook and could make up meals for her to eat. Each time I shared what I could do Mrs. G would smile and say, “What a dear, you’re too kind.”

The next day I walked up to her apartment and knocked to my surprise she didn’t answer. I knocked again and stated who I was and again no reply. Mrs. G’s daughter had given me a key and I was worried sick that something was wrong and my heart stopped. I opened the door and there was Mrs. G sitting on the coach watching TV. I walked over and asked her if there was anything she wanted me to do? She looked at me and back at the TV. This was not the sweet old lady of yesterday. I asked again and to my surprise she turned her TV off looked at me with fire in her eyes and told me she didn’t need some Yankee Woman barging into her home and telling her what to do! As much as I tried to share with her that her daughter hired me and is paying me to see if she ok and to please let me fulfill my vow I made with her. She gave me a look I think Scarlett O’Hare would have been proud of and said, “It’s my daughters money that is being wasted not mine, now be on your way, Yankee!”

I quickly looked at her pill box and saw that she had eat one of the dinners her daughter had prepared for her. Taking as little time as possible as not to upset Mrs. G I did up the dishes and took the trash out with me as I left. I told her what a pleasure it was helping her and I would see her tomorrow around the same time. This went on for weeks and I had shared my concerns with Mrs. G’s daughter that I didn’t think she liked me and perhaps she should find someone else. Then Mrs. G’s daughter said I had lasted longer than anyone else she had hired and asked me to please stay on.

The weeks slipped into months and Mrs. G did begin to warm up to me and even bought me a thank you card. One day when I came to visit I had eaten something that hadn’t agreed with me and gave me diarrhea. When I arrived to Mrs. G’s apartment I asked if I could use her bath room and while there I used it several times. She, in her southern dialect asked me if I was having, “Bathroom Problems?”

“Oh no, my bathroom works fine I just have diarrhea really bad.”

Mrs. G’s face turned red, she looked away and gasped, “Why you Yankees are so explicit in your language. A well brought up lady would never refer to her situation as how you have but as “Bathroom Problems”

Now it was I whose face was red and I apologized profusely and started to laugh. Because this was not the first time a language barrier had occurred while living in Dallas. I always seemed to find myself in situation of my own making. Yet to my surprise Mrs. G was laughing just as hard as I was. She let me sit down next to her and told me that she was warming up to me despite that I was a Yankee.  

Time slipped by and the end of November was upon us, Mrs. G and I were becoming good friends. I would spend several hours sitting with her watching TV and helping her around her apartment. It was around November 22 that I had taken a visit to the Grassy Knoll where J.F. K was assassinated. I was only a baby at the time it had taken place and its history was passed on to me by what I had read and what my parents. It held no really emotional response as it did to those that were old enough to remember and to live through it. That night I went to Mrs. G’s apartment and shared with her my day and where I had visited. Mrs. G’s face turned white and stillness filled the air. She turned her television off and asked me to sit next to her. As I faced her I noticed out the window it was raining and dusk had fallen. The room seemed to take on a holy glow as if an epiphany was to occur. Her eyes swelling with tears that she was able to hold off and her frail hand shaking on mine began to tell me a story that changed my life.  

It’s interesting how things happen in your life, she began. My husband was a well-known business man in Dallas and had been invited to meet the President when he came to town. Being his wife I too would be able to meet him and his wife. As the time approached and we were told of the day and time I realized that that day I would be at the blood bank volunteering. You see dear, back then when you made a commitment you stayed true to your word regardless of the sacrifice. That morning I gave my husband our camera and told him to take lots of pictures and he could share them with me. While at the blood bank we got the call that there were people with multiple gunshot wounds heading to Parkland Memorial Hospital and needed blood. I was given the blood and headed toward the hospital. When I arrived I was not aware who needed the blood and was directed to the room. As I walked in chaos permeated the air. As the blood was taken from me it was as if the wind had been knocked out of me and as I turned there sat Mrs. Kennedy covered in her husband’s blood. Immediately I went to her side, she looked so small and frail. I reached into my purse and took a handkerchief and started to help her clean up. She took my hand and looked into my eyes. At that moment it dawned on me what had happened, there laid her husband who had been killed. Here sat this young woman who was young enough to be my daughter and yet it was the First Lady of our country. She thanked me in a calm voice and took the handkerchief from me and started to clean herself up. As she did I couldn’t help notice how calm, brave, and lady like she was. I left the room wanted to be as she was and would aspired to be that brave myself. However, all I wanted to do was to go home to be with my husband and children. The days and weeks to pass were difficult, for it was Dallas that the beloved president was assassinated in. We are a proud people and this crushed every Texan that breathed. It’s an irony, Mrs. G continued, it was I who saw the president not my husband and I who sit next to the First Lady. I would gladly have given that up if it meant things would have turned out differently. Her face now seemed to glow and her trembling hand on mine eased some.  The room was still and something passed to me from her and as I walked home in the light rain I knew I had to revisit the Grassy Knoll and experience it through her eyes. The next weekend, I took the same walk that was taken the week-end before and everything seemed so different and my eyes were filled with tears as I felt the spirit of those that had lived through this life changing event.

January had arrived and my days in Dallas were numbered as I had planned on moving back to Michigan. Leaving Dallas would be hard as I had made so many friends and they had filled my heart with their love and stories. One evening I drove my car to check on Mrs. G as we had rain and it had been cold enough to freeze. I knocked and to my surprise she did not ask me to come in. I unlocked the door and proceeded to enter. Only to find the apartment dark, quiet, and no sign of Mrs. G. I called out her name and from her bedroom came a faint voice telling me where she was. I raced to her room and turned on the light. There laid Mrs. G, she looked so small, frail, and fear gripped was written on her face. My heart stopped as I went to her side and when she lifted her hands to me I could tell they were busied, cut, small pieces of dirt were embedded in them, and they were badly swollen. I asked her what had happed and she started to cry. I knelt by her bed holding her hands and whipping the tears from her eyes. My eyes as well filled with tears as she told me that she was useless old woman who can’t take care of herself and how she wished she was dead. I asked her what happened as guilt filled me and remorse for not coming sooner. She shared that she had wanted to take the trash out to the dumpster only a few hundred yards away from her door. As she made it out there and put it in the dumpster, that on the way back that she fell. She could get up and had to crawl in the freezing rain, in her night gown and robe across the pavement to the door of her apartment. There she was able to stand and walk gingerly to her bed. I have been lying here all day asking God to take my life because I am such a burden to so many people.

There was a part of me that wanted to tell her she shouldn’t have taken the trash out, what was she thinking, why would she do that when she knew I was coming over. Then something came over me here laid a woman who had lived through wars, depression, and so much more. She had married, raised a family, laid to rest loved ones and she was strong resilient, and so fragile at the same time. She asked me not to call her daughter and if I would help her clean up and change into some clean. I proceeded to get a tub of warm soapy water, took off her soiled clothing, and began to clean her up. She was so frail and there were bruises all over. Her knees were swollen as was her hip and pelvic area. I was so worried that she had broken something but something inside me knew that I had to do as she wished. It was after I had cleaned her up, got her dressed, and propped her up in bed that something happened. She put her hand on my arm and thanked me; she said what a blessing I was to her, and how much she had grown to love me. There laid a woman who was old enough to be my grandmother and yet she was a woman I had grown to admire and to aspire to be like. At that moment I truly thought I knew what she must have felt like the day that she sat next to the First Lady. I kissed her forehead and told her it was I who was blessed and how much I had grown to love her as well. As I brought her a cup of hot coco she smiled and told me to call her daughter and let her know what had happed. In a few minutes her daughter arrived and was going to call an ambulance to take her to the ER. She pulled me aside and thanked me for everything I had done. Little did I know that I would never see Mrs. G again? As I kissed her good bye she held my hand and said I wasn’t half bad for a Yankee.
Over the next few months I would write to her and she would write back and then I received that letter telling me that she had left this earth to join her husband, parents, and loved ones in heaven. She also shared what a blessing I was to her mom those last months that she lived in her apartment and loved getting cards from me. It is hard to believe that over 21 years have slipped by and Mrs. G’s spirit does live on in my heart and now I have passed it on to you. May her story touch you as much as it has me and together let us keep her spirit alive forever.

 

 

Roaring Lion

The Roaring Lion

By: Lynne Lindsay

I Peter 5:8

 Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour

 

One of the hardest part of my cancer hike is who and when cancer strikes. A few weeks ago at an event we were all eating, drinking, and laughing as if there wasn’t a care in the world. People recognized me from the paper and TV and for a moment felt like a balloon free in the air and dancing with the wind. Then turbulence jerked me around and put me in storm. I ran into some friends I hadn’t seen in a while. One shared that a mutual cancer survivor died, the other two shared that their cancer came back and they were getting treatment again. It rocked me to the quick and I had wanted to race out of there and come home to where it’s safe. Tears wanted to break loose and wash me in fear, guilt, and shame. Why God did you let me live, why did allow so many other people who have families who love them die. I have no real family, like a husband, children, or grandchildren. It doesn’t seem fair that those who are needed so much die and I am left on this battle field to fight an appoint that care nothing on the person it strikes. Then a few days later were doctor visit and again I looked into a mirror of reality and in the reflection could see where I had come from and beyond that saw what my life is now going to be. The unknown a mystery and each step I take is like walking through a mine field that no one else has been through. Each step I fear is this my last step will the can blow up and what toile will it take on my body? As I walked back to the chemotherapy room and said hi to the nurses, I couldn’t help but notice those in the chairs. Will this be my future or worst yet will I continue on with my life and forget the events that rocked me?

The days have slipped by and the weeks and still my mind seemed to be plagued by the furies of Greek mythology. I miss not working and earning a little bit of a wage and beginning to pave a way where I can be self-sufficient and not depend on my social security disability. I want to be free of my worries and fears and return to the place I was before the cancer. Yet those thoughts would clash with my spirit and with what I know to be true.

The words fill my heart and then my mind, “Trust in the Lord, with all your heart!”  I would close my eyes and think back when I was a child in a field next to my home. On windy days I would run out and close my eyes and fall back into a wind gust and imagine it to be God. He always seemed to keep me from falling and would tousle my hair. I would race and play tag with him and we would fall into the grass and laugh. It was as real to me as being with a friend. I loved listening to his voice in my ear and the stories he use to tell me. Those memories now began to flood my mind and a tear fell from my eyes as I asked God for that relationship we use to have when I was a child.

Then I would hear, “Don’t base your life on what you have learned, but put your eyes on Me and only Me and I will lead you through this mine field you are in.” What I know; I know that there is a high chance my cancer will come back, I know that when cancer comes back it can be worse than the first time, I know that everyday is uncertain and that bad things happen to good people and that bad people seem to prosper. This knowledge can be like vertigo and spiral me out of control into a crash landing. Yet, like Peter when he stepped out of the boat he was walking on water. However it was when he looked down that he began to sink. I suddenly realized that was what I was doing; I had taken my eyes off of God, his Son, and had quenched the Spirit in me. I had somehow grabbed hold of a rope tide to a large bolder that was pulling me under and the water was encompassing me.

It was when I opened up to him about my fear, desires, wants, and anger that my grip on the rope lessoned and in time I could let it go. Now I stand on the water next to my God and the raging waves crashing around me, the storm clouds are fearsome, and the storm rages. Yet, I have peace again and the next leg of my journey I am ready for. I have to not only rely on my feeling but what I know. I know that God will never give me more than I can handle. I know that he will never leave me nor forsake me. I know that I will never be alone. I know that he didn’t spare his own son from suffering and he will not spare me from suffering as well. I know that everything could be taken away, including my health. I know that when my time on this earth is finished he will take my hand and bring me home with Him.

So I say to my cancer again, “Bring it on, you have no power over me but what I give you. I will not empower you. You will not defeat me because my God is bigger than you. There may be a time when you think victory is yours, and you are celebrating but when you turn as I close my eyes for the last time. I will have the last laugh and Victory will be mine. I WILL BE VICTORIOUS.

SEND ME

Isaiah 6:8

 Then I heard the Lord asking, “Whom should I send as a messenger to this people? Who will go for us?”

I said, “Here I am. Send me.”

 

I stood by the river those around me bidding me farewell and best wishes on my travels home. It had been a long, hard, tireless, and exhausting hike through my cancer. However, through it came so much knowledge and built my self-confidence. In a way I think I went through a cancer boot camp where leaning on myself was no longer possible but had to lean on God for everything.

In front of me I could see the boat coming to take me back to the life that was mine before the cancer. Although I knew it would not be the same as when I left it, it would be home. As I turned to say good-by to my guild, I saw a figure falling from a whole in the sky. I heard a light thud and faint crying. My eyes were open because now as I looked down and across the path I had taken there were others struggling on the path. Many lost, fearful, in tears, and some even giving up.

Lord what will happen to those who are making the same journey as me? Who will help them with their path through cancer, who will be their voice when they are too tired and weak to cry out?

He looked away and I could see the sun glisten on a tear that came from his eye. There are many who come down this path and few that stays and help out.

Looking forward the boat was docking and my things were being loaded. I looked back and with tears now in my eyes I knew what I had to do. Turning to my guild I said, “Send me, back to the path I was on. Please let me help those who need me.

“You are willing to give up your dreams, desires, and want to go back and help the others who are traveling this path? Are you sure this is your choice?”  

“Yes, how can I leave behind my fellow cancer survivors to the unknown when the path is still fresh in my memory?”

So the boat unloaded my items and I packed my back pack with the supplies I would need. My guild told me that he would not be there for me when I needed him but the road back would be traveled by me alone. Then a small voice came from the crowd, it was a helper of the guild and she wanted to travel with me be my companion and off we went with my dog at my side.

I don’t know the future God has for me now, but I know that the life I lead before my cancer can never be the life I lead now. I will continue working at Speedway for another year part time and keep myself available when I am called on again to help out those who need help and to be a voice to those who cannot be heard.   

  

 

Shot down at my post

 

Abraham Kuyper was quoted in “Be Still, My Soul Embracing God’s Purpose & Provision in Suffering” a collection of popular authors.

The soul is thus like a sentinel who lets himself be shot down at his post and, in dying, enjoys the approving look at his general. And he rejoices therin, because he knows, and sees, that the general, who ordered him to death, yet loved him.”

When I first read this why would anyone allow this to happen? Where was the self-preservation that we all have to survive? Suddenly Galations 2:20 “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of Go, who loved me and gave himself for me.” From the NIV

While living in Annapolis I would spend my summer days by the ocean basking in the sun and swimming in its waters. One day while swimming I had swam out far enough where my feet could not touch the bottom and I laid on my back relaxed. Bible verse flooded my heart and engulfed my mind. This verse came to mind and I asked God what it would be like to be in heaven, in his presence. A small voice said, go deep into the water where you are surrounded by the ocean. Close your eyes and invasion yourself one with the water, like a jellyfish. Down I submerged myself, closed my eyes, and imagined. I imagined the water was God, it was around me, through me, part of me, and we were one. Peace like I have never felt before or since filled me. Not sure how long I was under the water but it seemed like hours. As I came to the surface I knew what my life mission was. To be with Him, bring Him glory, honor, but most important to share this with others.

It was almost 2 years ago the news of my cancer shot me down, in front of my commander. As I fell wounded it was my goal to praise him in always. While I fell to the ground not knowing my fate, my eyes never left his.

Now a few years have slipped by and I am atop of the wall again with Him by my side. Not sure when another arrow will pierce me and the results of the piercing would be death. Yet, I don’t fear death because I have died once to self the hardest death to do, which leaves physical death which is a walk in the park as God lives in me, and gives me strength to carry one. With him nothing is impossible.

My Hearts Garden

I think the one thing people ask me or tell me is how am I so strong? I tell them it is God who gives me strength, I trust him. They ask me how can you trust let alone love a God who has let you go through your cancer, you are a good person and that is not fair.

I have a secret I have traveled down a road similar to this one, not the same but close. In 1984 I found out I was to have a child, it was the happiest time in my life. Every day I woke and talked to it, I felt like it was a reward from God for all I had been through. I held it close to my heart and there was not a moment that went by that I was not talking to it, telling it of the day or people passing by. I had life in me. Then one day I awoke to pain and was rushed to the hospital only to find out I was bleeding to death I had an ectopic pregnancy. I awoke from the surgery to find out my child was gone and with it so to I felt I had died. I was angry, bitter, hurt, and confused. My strength came back and years slipped by with anger, hurt and bitterness filling my heart choking out all love. I hated my life and everything in it and about it, yet there was a small song bird that remained in the garden of my heart that sang a simple song. I tried to find that little bird that sang but because of the weeds, thorns, and over grown plants in my hearts garden I couldn't find it.

I found a master gardener who tore nearly everything out of that garden and over the years he taken that piece of land and turned it into something quite beautiful and a quiet place to sit. Now song birds come from all over to sing in my garden, butterfly’s, and other wild life live there as well.

When the cancer entered my garden it tried to kill of and take over as did the loss of my child, but I knew that I could not let it do that. I could not go back to that dark place where I had come from. Instead I saw the beauty of the cancer, and I saw how with its own color hues, textures, and unique patterns it show cased what was in my garden. My master gardener still maintains my hearts garden and I have learned that each experience I have encountered is like a new plant being planted in my heart.