Posted on by kellyyarborough

Where I Belong

You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Psalm 139:1-6

 

We often find ourselves trying vicariously to live our lives through our children. I suppose that’s why God gave me children who have strong wills and independent spirits.  I learned very early on that I would be rearing children, not living my life and dreams through them, helping and guiding them to make wise and sometimes difficult choices.

Matthew has always had a mind of his own. He always made friends easily, but he rarely ever allowed those friends to control his thoughts or emotions. Matthew could think for himself and he was always extremely pertinacious. As he grew older, we talked about the possibility of home-schooling him, but he said to me one day, “Mom, if God can use me to make a difference in one person’s life, then I want to stay in public school. One person is worth it all.” Matthew did, over the next few years, make a difference in the lives of several of his friends.

At the end of Matthew’s sophomore year, he said, “Mom, I want to be in the military. I want to join the Marines and be on the front lines. Don’t bother signing me up for the SAT or ACT. I’m not going to college.”

My first through was, “Sure thing, Buddy. You’re only 15 and likely to change your mind in a few months.”  Besides, what 15 year old could possibly know he wants to fight on the frontline for his country?

While he spent the next year talking, I ignored him, until the start of his Senior year and he was still talking about it. I called his dad and told him Matthew’s plan, needless to say, he was not a happy camper. Having served in the Navy and knowing the potential Matthew possessed, he convinced Matthew to talk with a Navy recruiter.  Only after lengthy discussions with the recruiter, did Matthew decide the Nuclear program in the Navy best suited him

After Matthew’s decision was made, I really didn’t think it was what he wanted to do; however, as he focused more on the Navy, his excitement accelerated. His hope was to go in immediately after graduation; however, due to the economy the Navy had a significantly higher number of recruits; so, he would have to wait a year. While he was disappointed, it also gave him more time to spend with friends and family and also take a 3 ½ week trip to Europe. The wait also made him more eager to join. At that point, my reluctance and disbelief in his choice diminished.

If there were any doubt left in me, I definitely had closure, if any doubt remained, when Matthew wrote the following words,  “I just want you to know that joining the Navy was the best decision I have ever made. I have definitely found where I belong.” (Letter from Matthew, dated 11 July 2010) Wow! The words resonated my heart and soul, my precious boy has found his calling. I don’t think there is any greater feeling of accomplishment that a mother can feel when she knows that her children are where they belong.

 

 

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Restraints and Containment

 “Therefore Jesus said again, “Very truly I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. 8 All who have come before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep have not listened to them. 9 I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved.[a] They will come in and go out, and find pasture. 10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.  John 10: 7-10

Have you ever tried to contain something that is not containable?  Surprisingly, maybe not so,  I had a child that did not yield to a restraint or containment of any kind.  He was like a little Houdini.  Before he could walk he would climb out of his crib, high chair, over the baby gate and out of his car seat.  If it was meant to restrain or contain him.  Forget it.  Not happening.  No way.  No how.

I think his first stunt was crawling out of the bed.  We didn’t know he could get out and during the night, to our surprise, he showed up in our room trying to get in bed with us.  The next day, we lowered his mattress as far down as possible.  It worked, for a few days.

We didn’t have a nanny cam so I decided to watch him one afternoon to see how the little rascal was getting out.  Clever little boy.  He would use his changing table to pull himself over the bed railing.  Once atop the changing table he would climb down the table by using his toes in the hardware of the drawers.  Keep in mind.  He was not walking, at this time and he was upstairs.  Good news was he couldn’t reach the door knob so at least we could keep the door closed to avoid an accidental fall down the stairs.

His next escaping adventure was with security gates.  Somehow the little stinker could just, with upper body strength pull himself over and unfortunately sometimes the gates themselves would fall.  We decided to invest in two pricy thick security gates.  Again, our efforts proved to be in vain.  The gates worked for a few weeks.  He couldn’t pull himself over these.  They were a little higher and much sturdier than the previous ones.  However, these heavy duty thick plastic gates were made to look like a lattice fence.  Alex, figured out he could, again, use his toes, connect them between the open spaces and climb right over.  All this before he could walk.

After he learned to walk, he was much more difficult to contain.  He climbed on everything and had no fear of anything.  He frequently dug himself out of the high chair while being strapped in.  No clue how he managed to get out of the restraint.  But he did.

Then one day, we were headed to Concord to visit my sister and her family.  We heard a little rustling from the back seat and I turned to find Alex completely out of his car seat and sitting in the seat between his carseat and Amy’s.  We stopped put him back in and harnessed him well, or so we thought.  A few minutes later Matthew from the rear seat is laughing saying, “Mom, he’s out again.”  I looked back just in time to see him crawling out of his carseat and looking very proud of himself.  Needless to say, the next few days we researched car seats and found one that was supposed to have a better restraining system. As always, it worked for a little while but he somehow managed to slip his arms up through the restraints, no matter how tight or high the restraint was.  He knew if he could get his arms out he could wriggle the rest of his body out.

The good news was over time, he finally learned it was for his safety but honestly there was no containing that little booger when he was little.

When I think about how active and daring and challenging and scary, at times, it was raising him as youngster, I stand amazed how self-controlled and cautious and wise he is today.  He didn’t initially realize that the restraints and containment were for his protection and safety. When he did realize they were meant for his protection,  it had to be his choice to adhere to them, not mine. He chose well.

Just like us.  We sometimes feel restrained or contained by following Jesus.  We fail to see the benefit so we buck the restraint.  We decide to crawl over the fence.  When we do this we are left unprotected and that’s a scary place to be.  Jesus doesn’t want to hem us in to harm us but to keep us from danger.  To keep us safe.  Until we get to the point, like Alex, to see that it’s up to us to choose the safety and security that Jesus provides, we will continue to escape the protection every time.

 

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God has the Final say

In my post, “Miracles Happen”, I mentioned the fact that God has the final say. It’s true of life and death.  Just three days after writing that post our family would experience this reality firsthand.

On Sunday my Mom convinced Popaw to go with her and Ned to Hickory on Monday to visit his two sisters.  She reasoned with him by telling him that out of the three siblings he was much healthier and steady on his feet than his two younger sisters. He gave in and agreed to go.

Monday morning they picked him up from The Bridge.  He was complaining with heartburn, which is not unusual for him. It’s actually, as far back as I can remember, always a normal occurrence.  As the day drug on, so did his heartburn. Mom gave him some Tums. Then after eating a light lunch Judy, his niece gave him Pepcid because he said it had worsened.

By the time Mom returned from taking Aunt Bobbie back to her room. Popaw was pale, clammy and could not walk. Fairly certain he was having a heart attack, she got the address of the assisted living facility and called 911.

Promptly, EMS arrived and began working with him. Before putting him in the ambulance his pulse reading was 30.

Once they got him the hospital they had to    use the AED to shock his heart. According to the nurse who talked to Mom after, Popaw was not happy they used them.

Later when Mom talked with the doctor. He told her that a Popaw had suffered a “big” heart attack. They were able to use angioplasty; but stints would not stay in because his arteries are so hard.

He was kept in ICU overnight and moved to a regular room the next day. Released on Thursday and brought back here to Life Care.

The doctor was petty clear that Popaw’s fix is only temporary.  At some point his arteries will close back up and blood will not pass through, which will inevitably lead to death. The next time they won’t use paddles. He has a DNR. He actually had his DNR updated a week prior to his heart attack, only the hospital staff in Hickory had no idea.

You see, the thing about my Popaw is that he’s ready to go. He’s been ready to go for a very long time.

In fact, just three days prior to his heart attack, Sammy and I were visiting. (Picture above)  He and I were talking about the fact that MaMaw had been gone for 7 years.  He said, “Honey, I miss her more and more every day.  In fact my heart longs more and more to see her and  meet Jesus”.

Now, I’m not living under any false pretense that when my Popaw dies it’s going to be easy. It won’t. He’s been my constant, as constant as the stars in the sky or the sun that brightens the day or the moon that lights up the night sky.  My whole entire life he has been a source of great kindness, gentleness, humbleness, patience, meekness…. and a constant source of joy. There is no one on earth that will ever fill the shoes he leaves behind. Not one. But I am thankful. Thankful for the time I’ve had and oh, so thankful for the time still left here.

We are not promised tomorrow. God saw fit to give us a little more time. Maybe it’s to prepare our hearts. Maybe Popaw still has a life to touch. Maybe Jesus just hasn’t finished his place because He’s pretty clear that when our place is prepared, He will come for us. Whatever the reason, God will have the final say.

You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.  Psalm 139;16NLT

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Changing perspective

Last year when we moved Popaw from his house to The Bridge at Lake Point Landing.  It was a tough transition for him.

He was being taken from his home of 44 years and his independence was being seized right out from underneath him.

He had fought the idea, for a while, but it was finally apparent he could no longer safely remain by himself.  He knew it too and didn’t put up much of an argument about going.

He said, “I know it’s probably best.”

Move-in day came. A host of friends from Mom and Ned’s Sunday school Class came to help.

It was hard. Hard for him. Hard for mom. Hard for us all. It’s only the second or third time I’ve ever seen Popaw cry. It wasn’t the ugly loud cry. It was silent flow of tears rolling softly down his cheeks. It was heart wrenching!

After getting him settled, everyone left, well, everyone except me. For some strange reason, I decided to linger with him a little longer

He was flipping through channels as we were chatting.  He ran across some preacher who was talking about the Israelites.  He talked about how they had been taken from their homes, wandered around in the wilderness for 40 years and then God led them to the land of milk and honey

Popaw looked at me and said, “Well that’s exactly how I feel, everything’s been taken from me. My house.  My car.  Everything I’ve known for many years. I feel like I’m in the desert now. Then they bring me ice cream and it’s like God gave me my milk and honey.  Milk because ice cream is made with milk and honey because it’s sweet.”

I sat there thinking, “Wow!  What an incredible perspective.”

The truth is, that’s the way he always sees things.  He always finds the good in any situation.  His kind heart and gentle spirit give him the ability to look beyond even the most difficult of circumstances and find the good.

Sometimes my biggest problem is that I fail to look at things from a different perspective.  I see the negative and I stay there. I feel the weight of overwhelming circumstances. I feel the blows of life and fail to look for the good. The sad truth is when I fail to see the good, I most often times miss the blessing.

The truth that the Israelites learned while in the wilderness was that God’s provision was always there   Not only did he guide them a cloud  by day and a pillar of fire by    night.  He gave them food daily.  He took care of them.

Popaw has seen, felt and experienced the goodness and richness of God  He has experienced God’s ultimate protection and provision for a long time.  However, I believe the moment he was moved from his home, he felt empty.  He felt alone  He felt like a fish out of water.  But he determined not to look at all he’d lost.  He looked at what was ahead.  He chose to see the goodness of the Lord once again

 

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Pocket Mouse Goes to Church

Would you believe me if I told you that my mom was a Tom boy when she was young?  Most of you, who know her, are probably scratching your heads wondering if we’re talking about the same person. It true. It’s truer than true.

First of all, she loved fishing with her daddy.   She would grab the fishing poles and beg him to take her. It didn’t take much convincing on his part since he loved spending time with her. She would even bait the hooks and remove the fish. I think the only think she wouldn’t do was clean fish.

She loved the outdoors. Climbing trees. Running and frolicking about.

She also loved the encyclopedia. It was her best friend because she loved to hunt animals. My grandmother said it always concerned her to come home and see the encyclopedia open, lying on the ground.  she never knew what my Mom would bring home

One time she went hunting for field mice. She found a mouse. Brought it home. Played with it. Freaked my grandmother out.  Then she told her to get rid of the mouse because they needed to get ready for Wednesday night church.

During the church service Mom was sitting a row or two in front of my grandmother with her friends.  My grandmother noticed the other girls were wiggly and squirmy. Her words to me, “There was my little Annie sitting quiet and still. I was so proud of her.”

When church was over, she discovered that “her little Annie” had taken the mouse to church, in the pocket of her sweater. She was sitting between several girls so she could take the mouse out of her pocket.  Stick it out in front of the girls causing a raucous among them and making her look like a little angel.

It embarrassed my grandmother to think that my Mom had caused such a scene in church.

The truth is, as parents, we all get embarrassed by our children’s behavior.  One minute we can have the proud parent moment and the next they let us down   It’s how we respond that will make the biggest difference in their lives

Do you say things like, “I can’t believe you did this!  Do you realize how bad this looks on me   What are people going to say about me and what kind of parent I am?”

Or do you say, “I’m really surprised by your behavior and it saddens me.  I love you, in spite of what you’ve done.”

One response makes it about us and puts all the responsibility of the choice back on them.

You can’t make their behavior or poor choices about you. It’s not. It’s about them.  It’s extremely freeing, as a parent, when you realize thi

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Grandma Reese

Sassy, sweet and not afraid to work her hands to the bone. The epitome of love in action is how I would describe her.

Her sass gave her the ability to walk through some of life’s most difficulties and the ability to raise seven children

Her sweetness gave her the ability to dote on and love her grandchildren and great grands.

Her hard work ethic gave her the ability to always provide for her family.  While she didn’t work outside the home; her hard work was done in the home.  She was a green thumb when it came to gardening and fabulous cook.  She could whip up a meal in no time flat.  She could quilt, mend, and make her own clothes.  Truly, she could do just about anything but drive

Life would throw her some curve balls so she had to be able to handle them.

My grandfather joined the Navy during World War II and left her and four young boys behind.  She told me, “Every day I would get those boys up before dawn and take them outside to help me.”

She knew the pain of having a still born but she knew the joy of having a quiver full. However, I believe one of her most difficult trials came when my daddy died.  Often she would say to me, “I never thought I would have to bury a child.  I always thought I would go first. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to watch.”

She would tell me about the pain and agony he was in and how it broke her heart to see him that way.  But she was quick to always say,  “The smile never left his face.”

She knew the heartache of losing her beloved.  Grandpa died unexpectedly of a stroke in 1991 and she would live as a widow for the next 18 years.

She knew the joy of grandchildren.  She had nineteen.  She loved us all well.  She enjoyed having us in bunches or individually.  She didn’t care how many or how few.  In her mind there was always room for one more.

She even had the privilege of knowing most of her great grandchildren!

Oh, how I loved her and spending time with her.  If I would call her ahead of time , she would always cook a pot of green beans for me.  She knew they were my favorite.  If I didn’t call and just showed up; she’d rummage around in the basement and bring up a quart or two of green beans and insist I stay and eat.  I didn’t refuse because one thing about having Reese blood, food is an essential. Besides that was her way to expressing love. She always had more than enough to feed everyone at the table.

Today is her special day!  It’s the day of her birth!  She celebrates in heaven and I’ll celebrate her on earth.  Happy birthday, Grandma!

Sallie Clark Reese   April 15, 1916-August 17,2009

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Just a little more….

When Jason Aldean released, “A little more summertime,” I’ll bet he had no idea that a woman would well up in tears at the thought of her baby girl leaving for college.  The song triggered every emotion in me. Every stinking time I heard that song, I found myself wishing for just a little more.

The previous years had always been in anticipation of the next year.  Excitement about the beginning of tennis season, football games, Yogurt World, track meets and more track meets and more track meets.

Last year, especially around this time, I found myself looking back and wanting more, wishing it would last just a little bit longer.  Wishing it didn’t have to end.  It did have to end and I knew it.  I just didn’t want it to end.

It’s really paradoxical in a way because for years leading up to Amy’s graduation, I always told people how excited I would be to send her off to college.  Not that I was trying to shove her out of the house, I just knew she was ready and I knew we had prepared her to leave.  I was thrilled about it.  Then something very strange and quite unexpected happened, I began to feel sad.

The first time it hit me was during Homecoming.  She was crowned Homecoming Queen and I realized that would be the last time I would see her on the football field in a dress.  I really didn’t think too much about it but then it happened again at the end of tennis season.  I was washing her uniform after the final tennis match and an overwhelming sadness washed over me like a tidal wave.  Again, I brushed it aside.  Time and again, after every thing ended, I found myself with this empty feeling in my gut.  I wanted more.  Just one more.  One more tennis match, one more track meet, one more year…..

Finally, one day over the summer I found myself seeing memories of Amy in everything that belonged to her.  Everything I saw I could associate with some memory and then the longing in the pit of my stomach for just one more.  It was strange.  It wasn’t like I dwelt on these things or even looked for things to trigger memories.  It just happened. Kind of took me by surprise.  I definitely had not planned nor prepared for such crazy feelings.

Right before she left for college, Terry and I were having a conversation.  Our famous morning coffee talk. (I highly recommend these if you don’t already have them with your spouse or significant other)  I was just sharing with him all the crazy I was feeling.  He knew most of it but I kept saying, “I just keep wanting one more.”

He looked at me and said, “You can’t have one more.  Besides, if you had one more it would never be as good as the first time around.  Think about it.  She had a fantastic year this past year.  If you did it all over again, it would never be the same.  The outcome would be different.  Instead of feeling sad that it’s over be happy that you got to be a part of it.”

He was right.  I knew it.  I hate when he’s right.  His nugget of wisdom proved to be the best advice I received.  It’s not really what I wanted to hear.  It’s what I needed to hear. I needed to quit pining for the past, I needed to take joy and delight in my experiences with her and begin to look forward to her new adventure.

For those of you who’ve been there, you may have walked a similar path.  Maybe not.  Some of you are there, right in the thick of it.  Let me encourage you, enjoy every single moment you can.  Relish it.  Cling to it.  Embrace it.  Know soon and very soon, you’ll have to give them wings to fly.  You will be ok and so will they.  For some it will come with ease and others it will take time.  Don’t be hard on yourself if it takes you a little longer.  Just remember:  you can’t turn back the hands of time.  Time marches on and so must we.

 

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My Caregiver

I have always been fond of Little House on The Prairie. I love the books as well as the television series. The books varied from the series; however, it was always the appeal of a simple lifestyle that appealed to me. In the deepest part of my heart, the yearning for simplicity has always prevailed. Simple living did not mean that heartache and disappointment were nonexistent; however, it seemed to me that in living simply, peace was found in abundance. Isn’t that what our souls yearns for the most? Peace. The ability to walk through stormy weather and know all will be well. Peace. The ability, when all things around us are falling apart, to hold together. Peace. The unexplainable feeling when you know something is terribly wrong, but you aren’t shaken by it. Peace. Complete rest for our souls. Peace. The unshakeable comfort.

Living simply doesn’t mean that you are simple minded. Living simply means that you get unnecessary, overwhelming distractions out of the way and enjoy the day and all it has for you. Throw off things that hinder peace in your life. Say “no” to things that do not bring peace. Rid yourselves of unnecessary obligations that create worry and stress. Make the choice to rid yourself of things that are not helpful to you or what is helpful others. Lysa Terkeurst says, “Wisdom makes a decision today that will still be good for tomorrow.” By doing this, we are allowing God a big opportunity to show up and show out.

From my earliest recollection of her, she exemplified peace. She sang “There will be peace in the valley”. Peace was there. All around. From the positioning of their quaint house perched atop a knoll, to the rolling pasture complete with livestock, to the smell of bacon frying in the early morning hours, to the multitude of African violets in a magnificent array of blooms…always- every aspect of her life spoke peace. Peace did not allude her. Peace was hers. It belonged to her in every sense of the word. She was not wealthy by the worlds standards but she was blessed with a wealth of dear precious ones who loved her and loved her deeply. I was one of the fortunate ones to know her. I knew her well. From the time I was 3 months old until I was 15, she was my care giver. She was, to me, another grandmother. Although I had biological grandparents and she had biological grandchildren. She adopted me and I adopted her. She was as close to me as my own and I as close to her as her own.

One of the most fascinating things about her was that she was born in 1903 and her precious husband in 1900. Keeping up with their ages was always fun for me and easy. He was as old as the current year and she was 3 years less. She began taking care of me when she was 65 years old. By the age of 2, she had taught me many things about God’s word through her singing as well as scripture. Every day she would stand me in a chair and we would recite, John 3:16. Every day at nap time, she would rock me and sing to me, mostly hymns, but sometimes lullabies. One of her favorite Hymns was, “Revive Us Again”. She loved the chorus and most days she would even sing the chorus as she watered and tended her African violets. Maybe that’s the reason for their ever present display of beauty. The chorus is, “Hallelujah! Thine the glory. Hallelujah! Amen. Hallelujah! Thine the glory. Revive us again.” One day when I was about 3, I was at home singing, as I often did. My mom was listening and heard me singing the chorus but I using a heavy “r” at the end of Hallelujah. She asked, “Why are you singing it that way?” I replied, “That’s the way Mamaw Gillespie sings it.” She said, “Hallelujah doesn’t have an r at the end.” The next day, I walked straight into Mamaw’s house and told her, “My Mama said you were singing the song wrong. Hallelujah doesn’t have an “r” at the end.” I can’t recall her response but I can tell you it didn’t change the way she sang the song. Not one bit. Not ever. Why? It didn’t matter to her. Her heart was so full of love for the Lord and what He had done for her. She didn’t care. All that mattered to her was that she was singing to Him and asking on a daily basis that He revive her and give her “peace in the valley” or “peace like a river.” Her songs were prayers for her soul. She didn’t have to have the words perfect. Her heart was inclined, or leaned into, God and that’s all that really mattered. You see she just chose to be there in the moment. Her life was moment by moment. Day by day. I would venture to say she probably sang, “Every day with Jesus is sweeter than the day before.”

Her life was a series of wise choices day after day.  She knew her place and she knew what she was best suited to do.  She chose to say “no” to things that would hinder her from being the best caregiver day after day, year after year.  She was a woman who exuded confidence in her ability to care for her babies.  That is what she did best.  To say I’m lucky to have had her in my life would be an understatement.  Blessed doesn’t even seem accurate.  I am simply overwhelmed with gratitude and thankfulness that I was hers and she was mine.

***This post was originally written on another blog I started several years ago and failed to keep it going.  Two people reminded me in the past two days about this and oddly enough, it’s just what I needed to be reminded of today.***

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That Girl

Prior to meeting Terry in January of 1994, I was part of the single’s ministry at FBC.  We were in the process of trying to build up the program and we were doing outreach.  Immersed in letter writing and phone calling, I was gung-ho!

One evening Tom and Marie (later to become my brother and sister in law) gave me Terry’s phone number and asked me to call and encourage him to come.  In fact Marie said, “He gets tired of us asking all the time.  He just needs some extra encouragement to come back to church.”

I took the number and tried to call multiple times over the course of about three or four weeks Every time I called, a deep throaty almost manly voice would answer and say, “Terry’s not here. He’s at work.”  Every time I called, he was always at work.

Then I ran into Marie and she asked if I had gotten in touch with Terry.  I told her that every time I called he was never home.  She encouraged me to keep trying and then told me to call him Saturday morning because she knew he would be home.

I did and the same deep throaty voice answered but this time she said, “Hold on.”  Then she started calling , “Terry.  Terry.  That girl is on the phone.”

From that moment on, I was “That Girl” to her.  For the longest time, I didn’t even think she knew my name.

Over the years, I’ve thought so many times about her calling me “that girl” and I’ve come to a realization that she was testing me out.  She knew that Terry’s heart was growing fond of me and I think she wanted to make sure that my heart was growing in fondness toward him too.  In an odd way, I think she was trying to protect herself as much as she was trying to protect him.  She didn’t want to see him hurt and she also didn’t want to get too close to me, if I were not “the One”.

Terry was her baby boy.

In fact most times when Terry would call her on the phone he would say, “Hey Thel, It’s Terry the baby of the family.”

He will argue with me and say he wasn’t spoiled by her, but I’m telling you she adored Terry.  After Terry’s dad died, he moved in with her and gave her companionship.  She knew if Terry and I married, he would move out and she would lose his companionship.

More than that, she knew that Terry would be taking on a huge responsibility by marrying me. He would become an insta-dad.  She didn’t dislike the idea.  She just knew it would come with difficulty because she too had brought two young children into her marriage with Terry’s dad. She knew the hardships of having a blended family.  She wanted the best for her boy.

Do you blame her?

I don’t.

As our relationship grew, so did her affection for me, as did my affection for her.

Thelma was a very strong woman.  She was strong minded and direct.  You knew exactly where you stood with her and if she didn’t like something, she didn’t mind telling you.  However, she was very quick to say she was sorry if she was wrong.

I remember one time, she said something pretty harsh to me.  I pretended not to hear.  Apparently she spent several days mulling over our conversation and she called me and said, “I think I really hurt your feelings the other day and I’m sorry.”  In fact, when she called there was no small talk, not even a “hello”.  She got straight to the point.

She also had a very good sense of humor and when she was in the hospital right before she died, she asked me to clean her teeth.  She had trouble getting them out so I had to help her before I could clean them.  She said, “Well, it’s obvious you’ve had no experience with false teeth.”  Then she proceeded to tell me how to clean them for her and precisely how to get them back in her mouth.

Oh, how I loved her and she loved me.   I don’t remember specifically when she began calling me by name, but I knew when she did I had earned her full trust.

Folks

You know sometimes it’s difficult to trust people, especially when we’re trying to protect ourselves or those we love.  But we can trust God and trust that He always has our best in His mind. He is completely trustworthy.

“See I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.”  Isaiah 49:16

 

 

Posted on by kellyyarborough · 2 Comments

Was it worth it?

I’ve been avoiding this post like the plaque. A few weeks ago when God began churning my heart, I told Him, “Not now”. Yes, like I’ve said before delayed obedience is disobedience and I disobeyed.

I think as I write you will see why I avoided writing. However, the urge is so great within me, I can no longer resist.

As you know my biological father died when I was 7. He died from Melanoma and you can read some of his story in my blog post, My sweetest sorrow.

Now, we are at another crossroads with cancer. My stepfather, Ned. He was diagnosed 18 months ago with Stage 4 Atypical Non-small cell adenocarcinoma lung cancer. It sucks. I’m just not going to sugar coat anything about it.

A few months back, well technically a few years ago God began to stir this thought and idea about these two men I have had to privilege of calling Dad.

First, you must understand the first to understand the second.

Mack, my dad, had a strong enduring faith in God. He hoped beyond all hope that one day a cure for Melanoma would be discovered. Knowing full well it would not be in his lifetime, he allowed the doctors at Baptist Hospital (Wake Forest) to try new treatments on him. He was their guinea pig. His philosophy and mindset was to aid in the research and help others in the future.

Another thing to understand about my dad is that he never shied away from sharing his faith. He firmly grasped and held tight to his belief in Jesus. He had strong convictions about sharing his faith and the above picture is a treasure straight out of his Bible. His desire was to see that no one would perish without knowing Jesus. His chief goal in life.

I believe that through his death his chief goal was reached and realized. When Jesus tells us in John 15:13 “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

Bear with me while I explain.

When Mom and Ned began dating Ned wasn’t really living out a full life with Christ at the center. He had made a profession of faith but wasn’t really living a life totally reflective of Christ.

As their relationship began to grow so did his love for Jesus. Eventually leading up to his rededication. In perfect Ned style, it was not a haphazard decision, it was done with intent and passion. A decision he will tell you was the best choice he ever made aside from marrying my Mom.

The reality here is that without my dad having died, Ned may have never been able to experience the blessed life that only Jesus can give. If you ask Mack if it was worth dying for he would say, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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That was the original post from September 11, 2017.

Today marks the 43rd year my Daddy was called Home. The day that once brought me such pain, with each passing year, restores my hope and my joy. How can this be? Over the years, I was just enduring the pain, I am now learning to embrace it for what it is.

You will never get to the victory of the cross without enduring the pain and you’ll never be able to endure the pain without embracing the process.