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Monday, April 28, 2014

A Death in the Family

This morning started with a message from 5:23am. It said something to the effect of, "Something really bad happened. Call me before you check social media." Panic.There was only one thing that that could be about... only one main mutual friend... "Dear God, no. NO! I just talked to them yesterday. I just heard that gentle voice come over the phone reassuring me it would be ok."  Now I couldn't even remember what it was that was bothering me the day before. Just the voice murmuring soft reassurances they'd murmured a thousand times before.

Look at the clock. 3 minutes. Of borrowed time.

No time to call. Just enough time before I had to go to check social media. Brace yourself for the inevitable.  But how can you brace yourself for what you don't even know?

It didn't hit home at first. The message was vague. It sounded like everyone was alive. But there was nothing vague about the second one.

I was right. I wish I had been wrong.  There was a death. Three to be exact. Just not the one I was expecting.  A CollegePlus family in Arkansas suffered tremendously by the tornado. Their home was demolished, killing 3 members of their family - Dad and two daughters.

and then.... it hit home

In the picture was Whitney. Whitney who joined CP about the same time I did, the girl I'd chatted with many times in those early days on chat. The one that took the same somewhat obscure class I had and given me tips on the test. The fellow "brilliant blondie" who wanted to be a writer like me. And there was the profile pic with her hugging her dad. It was the same exact pose of me and my dad on my birthday... The final straw? The sister spelled her name the same way my sister does - with a k.

And as Whitney reminded us to hug our daddys, the blow hit home.... Life is short and fleeting. There isn't time for angry words or selfish pining. There isn't room for anything but living. God apparently got the message when I kept humming "Hello Lord." Over the weekend the same message again and again. But today it really came home. Rebekah Tittle's last Skype message was in answer to "Are you there?" to which she replied "I am." Within 2-3 hours her sister was posting that she was dead.

Tears brim in my eyes as I watch the CP community be ripped apart and come back together. CPers have always called themselves a family. This isn't our first death... but it's the first for our generation. Following on the heels of a very happy engagement, it's not easy But once again we come together - stronger, more courageous, more mature than we were before. I encourage us all to do something now. If you can, give. Several CPers are discussing going to help. For more details on this, feel free to contact me and I can put you in touch with the people heading this up.

Lastly, I issue a challenge to us all: Every time you see a post, an "in memory," or a prayer request, stop right there and then and send up a prayer. With the way social media is flooded right now, if each of us did this than it would be more prayers than we could count.



Wednesday, April 23, 2014

A Day of Life

Note: Started this post on Sunday but just now got around to posting it. Hence, the references to today as in today being Sunday.

Today was a day of life.

It started with my eyelids popping open remembering, "It's Easter Sunday. That means it's Megan's birthday." It seemed fitting that a birthday,  day of growth, should fall on this Sunday of all Sundays. A Sunday of renewal and promises and hope.

The Sunday when you finally get to wear new shoes. Sandals to be exact. White sandals to be really exact. Despite the tremendous heat of  Louisiana weather, as little girls we were never allowed to wear light shoes til Easter.  So you shove your feet into fairly new braided sandals even though for this one day it's turned somewhat cold this morning. However, after being tortured with being stuffed in Converse tennis shoes all winter long you kinda don't care about the cold.

You go to meeting and sing all the beloved old hymns. "Up form the grave" reminds you of your great grandma. The day wouldn't be complete without lesson number I-lost-count-a-long-time-ago of "Life. v. Tradition." If I had to sum up one thing God's been consistingently driving home to me this year it would be that shoved into the wackyiest moments in the seemingly most crazy moments. It's not always about what has always been, or what we always thought would be. It's about Him and so although sometimes His ways are extremely different than the ones we expect they are still truly the right ones. He also supplies so much grace... so much grace.

As though to support the lesson, the whole natural world was bedecked in LIFE. The skies were cloudless and blue. So blue. I've met way more peole with brown eyes than blue (they aren't common in the family).  But for their smaller number, the ratio of truly dear people with blue eyes is fairly high. Abandoning the usual "gussy" clothes you don a shirt that only half goes with the brown capris and your blue pair of Converses are returned to. But life doesn't always have perfectly matched colors. Just like it isn't black and white or even gray, black and white. The sky reminds you of all the dear ones with blue eyes. Especially when they light up. You remember when you've made them light up with a smile, a joke, or a compliment. The trees, like girls at a party, are each trying to be a different shade. It almost seems as you walk under the oak trees that nature is trying to express tit's Maker just for you. Purple irises. Yellow irises. White and purple irises. And in the tangled mix are bright coral roses named America.

This is life.

But every lesson need its opposite to drive it home as much as it needs its's positeve. You visit a hospital today. Dressed from church. It's time to have the experience as well as training. God has a way of making sure you get a fair share of both. You walk in. Past roses and into classical music. They seem like shams. You see other people too, some very friendly. You're all dressed "to the nines". But there's none of the usual chatter and giggling that attends girls in pretty dresses. You pass a bed in the hall with a muted pink blanket. It holds a strange fascination even though half of you wants to pull away and stop the memories. The strange mesmerization wins though.

You remember the hall. It's white. It stinks with that chemical cleaner smell as though to camouflage something else, as though the smell associated in your mind so vividly with fear could eliminate the smell of death you're so scared of. In the doorway behind you they're discussing another test result. There are lots of people pointing at a picture. Your mother's listening She's a nurse you know. You're scared of being trampled. There aren't many things you aren't scared of in this plae. People keep seeming to rush by. There comes a lot of commotion. You shrink against the wall. A bed appears. Way off the ground. And a little lady in a gown that flops around her emaciated form is in it. Her skin is yellow brown and her white hair hangs in wisps. She's about to make a lasting impression but neither of you know that then. Your eyes are wide with terror. And then she smiles. A little, thin smile as though it takes all her energy to be strong for you. As though somehow while she's being wheeled to what you instinctively feel is her open grave, she's trying to give you something

Your mom comes out and you point to the disappearing bed. You tell her she smiled at you. You ask if she's going to die, then burst into tears. You don't want her to die. You don't want to die. You want to go home. Your mother smoothes your hair and assures you in that sweet, motherly voice. 

That smile will never leave you.  You decide that if you ever get a chance you want to smile like that. To make someone's life better. A little less scary.

You pull yourself away from the memories. You visit and hug and think about the miraculous fact that the person you went to visit is actually still alive.  You pass that bed again on your way out and shiver, wishing with all your heart that you never have lay in one. But if you do, you want to smile too. You want to add to the life in this world.

Somehow that bed seems lower to the ground now.