You can't take it with you

Last night I picked up a copy of FD Luxe, a free fashion magazine. They often have interesting articles and sometimes a friend has photography featured, so I always grab a copy when I run across one. The story catching my eye this time was about the renowned opera singer, Lily Pons.

It's made up of bits and pieces from news stories written across the years about Pons. She apparently knew everyone in the entertainment world and beyond. Her Dallas home was filled with great works of art and cultured friends.

This is the bit that jumped out at me:

SEPTEMBER 1985“In her day, Pons had been a major international celebrity. She ate barbecue with Dwight Eisenhower in the White House. She was presented the French Legion of Honor by Charles de Gaulle. When she died, mementos of her glamorous life were disposed of in a giant estate sale that was open to the public. A picture of her partying with actor Humphrey Bogart went for 50 cents. Chatty letters from Princess Grace and Prince Rainier went for $5, as did a personal note from Princess Elizabeth thanking Pons for a wedding present.” — The Dallas Morning News

I don't know if she died surround by loved ones and friends. But, it does look as if no one claimed her stuff. Was her stuff important to her? She held onto it until the end. Maybe she had it tucked away and never thought about it. She did keep it though. It was, in some sort of fashion, still in her possession.

And, she didn't take it with her.

No matter how much you have of anything (insert what you wish here), when you die, it doesn't go with you.

And, collecting and keeping doesn't hold you here.

You still go.

I've been thinking a lot lately about not wanting to burden my children with stuff they have to get rid of when I die. I want to pare down what I have to be only things I absolutely love and/or use. If I can combine them be things I love and use, then great!

Lily Pons might have done all that before she died and the stuff in the little blurb might have been all that was left. If so, bully for her.

Or, whatever the French equivalent is for "bully for her."

Four years ago today

I know exactly what I was doing on this night four years ago.

I sat in a hospital ER waiting room and pretended that I was happy as a clam and everything was hunky dory while my mind was screaming that nothing was okay. A little boy needed me to be that way.

I sat at a kitchen table and listened to a mother-in-law talk about her loved one back in that ER and how everything was going to be okay, because it had to be. And I pretended that I didn't know that it wasn't okay and the loved one wasn't coming home. She needed me to be that way.

There are times I think I see her out of the corner of my eye. Jellybeans always make me think of her. Rabbit figurines and Thomas Kincaid paintings cause the same emotions to stir. Things happen and I want to call.

It's been four years ago today.

I saw death yesterday

Wasn't how we expected to start the day, but it happened anyway. On our way to Kruger National Park we drove up on a guy giving another man CPR in the middle of our lane. Some of the people in our van jumped out and ran back to the scene. An EMT had hit a man as he was walking along side of the road. At 5:30 a.m. there are many, many people walking along the highway to work or to the bus stop. Krista went to his feet and started praying and talking to him. Carla grabbed the EMT's phone to make the "911" call. I was by his head. It was so overwhelming. It was definitely a time of not having words to pray, just groanings. Someone asked for more gloves and I ran to the other van to see if anyone had some in their first aid kit. No one had any so Scott grabbed a huge plastic sheet off the side of the road and took over CPR. One of the team brought up t-shirts to use. They didn't know what was going on in that van and they wanted to help however they could. She was not prepared for what she walked up on. I'm sure her gut wrenching, heart breaking wails could be heard across the valley. Three EMTs came flying up in their personal cars, leaped out and went to work. After a few minutes they called it. It was too late, the injury way too severe. The EMTs didn't have a sheet big enough so they covered his body with the plastic and gently covered his face with the fabric they had.

Many times when a black person is hit here in South Africa the driver continues to move on. Not from fear of getting in trouble for killing someone, but because they just don't care. That is how deep the prejudice runs here. To say that makes me beyond sick is an understatement. I can't comprehend the depth of that selfishness. It makes me think of the Scrooge line in A Christmas Carol.

If (the poor) would rather die, they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.

Just put in "blacks" for the poor.

There is so much death here. There are funeral homes everywhere and
tombstone stores everywhere.

There are so many children that are already fatherless and I can't help but
wonder if yesterday morning more children became fatherless or complete
orphans. That breaks my heart and haunts me. Will those children now have to go to a feeding station to get food twice a week?

Please lift up the family that is grieving now. Pray that in their heartbreak they will feel God's love surround them in a supernatural way.

Death is final

Death is final and when I say that I mean the life here on earth is forever gone. It's permanent. As in forever more.

The only thing that keeps me from going insane is knowing that Grandmother is a beautiful soul in an earthly shell and the second the shell shuts down she will be with her Father. The one that she has loved and faithfully followed always. It will be beyond glorious, nothing our small minds can even begin to imagine. And she will be perfect and perfectly content.

Tonight, or I guess I should say this morning my tears have finally started flowing in a way that doesn't hint of a let up anytime soon. I've cried on and off since Friday morning, but quickly fended them off.

Not now.

Now I'm in pain thinking of the things that will never be again.
The really bland cookies she makes. Not sure what she does to them, but we eat them all up anyway.
Always being able to count on the ingredients for a Dr. Pepper Float to be on hand.
The best scrambled eggs in the world.
Hugs at the front door.
Her ability to talk for 30 minutes without having to stop to take a breath.
"Sit down here and talk to me" as she pats the couch cushion. And then not being able to get a word in edgewise.
Her way of pronouncing alcohol "alkeyhall" and tacos "tacas".
Her clothes hanging on the line.
Knowing that she starts her days praying for every single one of us.

In those ways death is very final. The day to day things. The things with skin on them. Those will be gone. Forever. And I don't like it one bit. That's where I am right now. Trying to come to grip with this final part. I hate it.

Oh God, I feel so selfish in my pain

How do I feel great excitement on one hand and also feel great loss?

How does my mind and spirit untangle these emotions of healing and moving forward, which brings great joy, from the tears and heartache of saying goodbye to something that brought great joy?

How can I be exuberantly happy about love blooming and growing, because I am, and yet experience waves of sorrow washing over me from the loss of what was.

I feel selfish in my pain, as if my pain overrides the joy for the progress of moving forward. A moving forward that is soothing, beautiful, and needed.

I know in my mind that this is good, yet I long so greatly for the past which can never return. And would not want to return if given the option.

Oh God, give me the eyes to see the beauty of now. Give me the heart to embrace it with no reserves. Help me remember the joy of the past and not weep.

Take away the selfishness of my pain.

A Variety of Influence

Last evening as I walked into the funeral home, a place I have come to loathe, I couldn't help but notice the variety of people that were standing outside talking and comforting each other. I grew up in a small town where most everyone looked alike and dressed alike. But that is not what I witnessed last night and it made me happy. There were cowboys, rockers, hip-hoppers, punks, and clean cut kids. To me it spoke of Wade's influence and his family's influence.

Today at the funeral it was the same way. The church was packed beyond capacity. Again, the variety of people was obvious. I know there were some in the church and in town that were having a hard time with some in attendance. But, I wish I could have had a conversation with some of them, especially the guy with Bible verses tattooed on his head. I would love to hear his story.

When I got the horrifying news of Wade's death, all I could think of was that Tracy had lost his son, Doyle and Diane had lost their grandson, Tim and Cindy had lost their nephew and all right on the heels of Phyllis' death. It was almost paralyzing to think about their loss. But, it wasn't until during the service that I even thought about Wade being the same age as my Aaron. And that almost took me under. I didn't and wouldn't and won't let my mind go there. It would do no good.

So, how do I end a blog like this? I don't know. I hope I never have to write another one like this.

Crashing

Tonight, on the way to church, I was in the middle of telling Phil the exciting news about our friends' adoption travel date when my phone rang.

It was my mother.

With very bad news.

The son, the grandson, of dear friends was killed this afternoon on his way back to Mabank from Athens.

We are all still reeling from Phyllis' death. This family was very close to Phyllis.

My head and heart are in shock. News from opposite ends of the spectrum in just a few hours.

New Orleans Three

It has rained all day. Buckets and buckets. Torrents upon torrents. Is New Orleans really where you want to be when the rain won't stop?

Yesterday the center director kicked the VBS team out and said they could come back today. The team arrived to find the building locked up tight. They called to find out the reason. The director was getting on a plane and had forgotten to give someone the key to open the doors. Playing in the park really wasn't an option - due to the torrent upon torrents.

Riddle burned his hand with boiling water as he helped in the kitchen. They've taken him to the "Doc in the Box". It looked nasty.

Downstairs they are celebrating Feller's 18th birthday. The frosting Corinn made for his cookie cake has enough sugar in it to keep the whole group up all night. The guys already celebrated by taking his clothes while he was in the shower. With friends like that...

I am emotionally drained. The news about the Chapman family has weighed on my heart all day. My prayer is that God will give them a peace that passes understanding.

Accidental Suicide

What makes the difference between an accidental overdose and a deliberate one? Is it the lack of a note? A bottle that isn't empty? In the end, there is still death. I think the difference is how it affects the ones left behind. Was it a selfish act done in a moment of despair or a moment of cloudy thinking due to extenuating circumstances?

My cousin took his life on August 20, 1988. I was 600 miles away. Why is that date burned into my brain? It is the day we brought our first child home from the hospital. The call came almost immediately upon arrival to the house. I don't think of one without the other. The two will always be woven together in my mind. The nightmares are still vivid. Eric Zane was going through the process of having his jaws broken and reset along with major dental work. He took a serious blow to the head during a car wreck. His doctor says that the pain from the combination of the two things would have been unbearable. Am I angry with Eric Zane? No, just deeply, deeply saddened.

Years ago we had a babysitter named Brandi. She had a friend kill herself. Brandi's anger was palatable. She saw the horror in the faces of the family; she saw the suicide as the selfish act it was. Brandi's view of life was a little different than most teenagers. She had battled Leukemia and won. She valued life. She knew how precious it is. She despised the fact that someone threw it away.

I recently attended the memorial service of a girl that took her life on her 15th birthday. Took it in a way that added even more pain for the one that found her. No one saw it coming. The blow sent everyone reeling. There are no answers to the why. She was greatly loved by many. Would she have done it if she could have had a glance into the pain she was going to cause? Would she have done it if she had heard the wails of those that loved her? I don't know. I would hope that the answer is no.

I have to disagree with the song, Suicide is Painless. It causes deep pain that washes over many in the changes that it brings. Yes, sometimes the game of life is hard to play, but nothing good comes easy.

My friend is gone

A phone call you never want to take. Words you never want to hear. Pain you never want to see. It all came without warning, without welcome Friday night. "This can't be happening, this can't be happening, this can't be happening..." has run through my mind since then. Three adored children without their mother. A much loved husband without his wife. Parents that have already said good-bye to one child say good-bye to their daughter. A son becomes an only child. I don't understand. I just hurt. A happy face is put on for the youngest son. We talk, laugh, run and play. He cackles when he discovers I have stepped in dog pooh. Out of his sight the tears come. My friend is gone.

Pray

I got this off of dreaming(Big)dreams blog. She got it off a friend's blog. Having spent time in Guangzhou going through the adoption process I can "see" the consulate red tape mounting for this poor woman. I can't comprehend the grief. I don't know what I would have done if Phil had died while we were there.

"I just got an e-mail from one of my friends who is in China right now. One of the families in her group has experienced a tragedy that is so hard to comprehend. The wife Sandi and her husband Dennis have been married 18 or 19 years, and this is their first child. Hannah (who is being adopted in China) is their daughter, and they were preparing to return to the States when Dennis fell ill.
Dennis was struggling to keep his blood glucose levels in check while in China and fell in to a diabetic coma yesterday. He died in Guangzhou two nights ago.
Sandi’s mother and brother are trying to get emergency visas to get to China to help out, and now there is concern that the US government (via the Consulate in Guangzhou) would deny Hannah’s visa to return to the States with her mother, as her father’s death affects the status of her adoption (on paper only, though).
Please pray for Sandi, Hannah, and their shock & grief. Please pray that the Consulate would not deny Hannah’s visa and that they would be able to return home unhindered, and for all arrangements for Dennis’ body. I ache for them….this just seems unfathomable! PLEASE PRAY!"

Jamie adds: Please if you think about it pray for this family and all the circumstances around this tragic event. Pray for the mom and her unimaginable loss. I can’t even begin to understand her life right now.

We buried my cousin yesterday

She had just turned 47. Feeling horrible from a headache, Tammy drove herself to the emergency room. Entering, she collapsed and died. It turns out that she had a heart defect that she was probably born with. The doctor said there would have been no symptoms. She left behind a husband, son, daughter, and granddaughter. And lots and lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins.

We grew up in the same small East Texas town. The kind where everyone knows everybody. The funeral home was packed beyond capacity. Every possible space was used for overflow. My father's parents had 29 grandchildren. We have gone on to produce a huge number. Tammy was my oldest first cousin's first child. She beat her twin, Tim, by a few minutes. So the family took its fair share of the seats, but many classmates and townspeople filled the place. I saw people that I thought were old when I was a child.

This is the first time I have lost a cousin so close to my age. Maybe that is why it has been so hard. It has hung with me almost every minute since my sister called last Wednesday afternoon with the news. Tammy was a spitfire. She was more than happy to tell you exactly what she thought. She and her siblings were extremely close. Knowing that they were hurting and then witnessing it was horrific. My dad conducted the service. It wasn't his first time to bury a niece or nephew, but that doesn't make it any easier. He did a great job while displaying the sense of humor that keeps our huge family semi-sane.

At the viewing on Saturday night, my youngest son saw a boy and made the comment, "That boy in the green shirt looks suspiciously like me." I asked my mom who it was because he had walked further on and I couldn't see him well in the street light. The funeral home had been packed for the viewing and I hadn't noticed a kid in a green shirt. Mom said it was Tricia's (Tammy's sister) son. I told Clay that the reason they looked suspiciously alike was because they were cousins and it must be the Sapp genes flowing through them. What is weird is that they are fourth cousins and they do look alike.

So, our family will continue on. We will have more painful days. Many of us recognize Who is in control and that keeps us going. That makes our crazy family strong. That is why we can go for a long time and not see each other and yet take up where we left off as if we saw each other every day. Of course, many do still live in the small East Texas town or have found their way back over the years. They let us come back to visit from time to time and don't hold our desertion against us.

My cousin is gone, but she is remembered with love by a huge mess of people.

Prayer Request

Please pray for my friends as they work through the loss of their cousin and niece. Sydney finished her battle with Leukemia on October 1. She left here at the age of eight.

R.I.P Hildy

It is a sad day in Dallas as we say good-bye to a legend. My family loves the Dallas Zoo and we mourn when they mourn. We've been blessed in watching the keepers interact with the animals and know how much they love them. Observing a rhino and a caregiver playing tag is one of my favorite memories. Hildy's graceful moves and amazingly long tongue were great examples of a very creative Maker and we enjoyed watching her.

Hildy was old, but she has a legacy -- a BIG legacy!