C
CQDX CQDX 927 ONTARIO CAN
Guest
I found the phone ringing as I walked in the door from last-minute shopping. It continued to ring persistently as I juggled the packages in my arms, while reaching for the receiver. "Your mother had a 103°F fever at lunch today." It was my father's voice speaking. "Since it's Christmas weekend, I don't know if her doctor will be available tomorrow. I've asked the nurses to transfer her to the Emergency Room."
"I'll meet you there," I replied as I hung up the phone. The traffic in my mind intensified as I began to mentally juggle my already crowded schedule for the next two days. Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve, and I still needed to wrap gifts for my two grandsons, as well as mother's gifts to take to the nursing home on Christmas morning.
I was not particularly shaken by the news, since mother frequently ran a high fever indicative of the recurring urinary tract infections caused by her inactivity. I was sure another round of antibiotics would take care of the problems, and she would be fine in a few days.
The sun was setting as I set out to make the forty-mile journey to the hospital from the small town where I lived. As I drove through the countryside, memories of Christmases past began to parade through my mind. Mother was the maestro of delectable dinners, clever decorations, and beautifully wrapped gifts. Friends frequently dropped by for a cup of her famous Russian tea, which she served in china teacups with silver spoons. No one ever left our home empty-handed. I learned in recent years these lavish celebrations grew out of their absence during her childhood.
I arrived at the hospital ahead of the ambulance and took a seat facing the giant Christmas tree. As I looked about the large lobby, I noticed the hospital halls had been decked with holly, evergreen, bows, and banks of red poinsettias in every corner. It was a grandiose sight!
Soon the ambulance arrived, and mother was admitted to the hospital. The high fever induced a coma-like state from which she could not be aroused. I took a seat in the corner on the small, round stool reserved for doctors and waited by her bedside as technicians performed a variety of tests. Her face showed no emotion, other than a grimace of pain every time she was pricked with a needle.
On the wall over the bed, a painting of a street scene in Charleston, South Carolina, caught my eye. I studied the painting in detail, as I recalled that mother had often spoken of Charleston. It was one of the first places she and my father lived following their wedding on December 26, 1942. I quickly subtracted the years. Tuesday would be their 58th wedding anniversary.
Suddenly, I became acutely aware that we may be facing the end of her earthly life. Our Heavenly Father, in His infinite, loving kindness, always prepares us for what is ahead, if we will be sensitive to His leading. My heart began to scream within me. "No, not tonight! Not tomorrow-it's Christmas Eve! Not Monday-it's Christmas Day! Not Tuesday-it's their anniversary! Not now!"
Then I remembered all the nights I laid awake staring into the darkness asking God to take her to her heavenly home to live with Him. Yet I didn't know if that prayer was for her sake or mine. The day we moved her to a nursing facility six years ago felt like the day of her death. My pain was almost unbearable. "Nevertheless, Lord, not my will, but Yours be done."
I retrieved my New Testament out of my purse and began to flip the pages while I waited in the dimly lit room. Paul wrote in his second letter to the Corinthians, "…In the time of favor (of an assured welcome) I have listened to and heeded your call, and I have helped you on the day of deliverance. Behold, look and see, now is truly the time for a gracious welcome and acceptance of you from God."
Her doctor came in later that night and took my place on the stool. "It's not the usual this time," he began slowly. "It's pneumonia. How long do you want to continue doing this?" His soft-spoken manner belied what I knew he was asking.
"Doing what?" I asked innocently, which I struggled to avoid letting the impact of his words travel from my ears to my heart. "Prolonging her life," he replied.
A quote from the Bible entered my mind, "This day I have set before you life and death. Therefore, choose life." Everything within me screamed, "Well, of course we're going to continue to prolong her life. Do something to make her better."
Breaking the stunned silence while my mind raced, I promised the doctor I would speak to my father the next day. The doctor said goodnight and promised to return in the morning.
Only a few patients remained in the hospital over the Christmas weekend. "Silent Night, Hold Night, All is calm, All is bright," I sang to myself while walking down the eerily quiet halls to her room upstairs.
Although it was late and I was tired, I slept very little that night. I turned on the television and was grateful to hear the choirs that sang Christmas songs throughout the long night. They were like a healing ointment to my hurting heart.
"Oh, little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie. Above they deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by." As I stared out the window into the starry night, I thought of Mary on that Christmas Eve so long ago. She, too, must have felt lonely and afraid giving birth to her firstborn in a barn on a bed of hay, not knowing what to expect in the days ahead. (I doubt she knew that a journey to Egypt was next on God's agenda for her.)
Rays of bright sunlight streamed through the window Christmas Eve morning. Twelve hours of intravenous antibiotics suffused enough strength into mother for her to open her eyes. As I was coaxing her to take the next bit of breakfast, I was surprised to see a hint of the once-familiar twinkle in her eyes again. Oh the miracle of antibiotics! "I love you," I said, trying to smile through the tears welling up in my eyes. "I love you," she replied knowingly.
These were the first words she had articulated in months. I did not know it at the time they would also be her last. The best Christmas gifts are not always tied up in paper and ribbbon. The Christmas miracle lasted only a few days because she began to slip away from us again. Her disease prevailed, and she moved to her home in Heaven three weeks later. St. Francis of Assisi prayed, "It is in dying that we are born to eternal life."
How appropriate were the last words she spoke while here on earth. They summed up her whole reason for being among us for almost eighty years.
"I love you!"
Isn't that the message of the manger? "I Love You!" signed your Heavenly Father.
"How silently, how silently, the precious gift is given. How God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His heaven."
GOD BLESS YOU ALL THIS HOLIDAY SEASON
From Duane 927
CQDX CQDX 927 ONTARIO CANADA
<img src=http://home.comcast.net/~shockwav/greatbrf.gif ALT=":*cacflg">
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Keep Safe, Keep the radio waves clean.
</p>Edited by: <A HREF=http://p067.ezboard.com/bworldwidecbradioclub.showUserPublicProfile?gid=cqdxcqdx927ontariocanada>CQDX CQDX 927 ONTARIO CANADA</A> at: 12/5/04 6:56 pm
"I'll meet you there," I replied as I hung up the phone. The traffic in my mind intensified as I began to mentally juggle my already crowded schedule for the next two days. Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve, and I still needed to wrap gifts for my two grandsons, as well as mother's gifts to take to the nursing home on Christmas morning.
I was not particularly shaken by the news, since mother frequently ran a high fever indicative of the recurring urinary tract infections caused by her inactivity. I was sure another round of antibiotics would take care of the problems, and she would be fine in a few days.
The sun was setting as I set out to make the forty-mile journey to the hospital from the small town where I lived. As I drove through the countryside, memories of Christmases past began to parade through my mind. Mother was the maestro of delectable dinners, clever decorations, and beautifully wrapped gifts. Friends frequently dropped by for a cup of her famous Russian tea, which she served in china teacups with silver spoons. No one ever left our home empty-handed. I learned in recent years these lavish celebrations grew out of their absence during her childhood.
I arrived at the hospital ahead of the ambulance and took a seat facing the giant Christmas tree. As I looked about the large lobby, I noticed the hospital halls had been decked with holly, evergreen, bows, and banks of red poinsettias in every corner. It was a grandiose sight!
Soon the ambulance arrived, and mother was admitted to the hospital. The high fever induced a coma-like state from which she could not be aroused. I took a seat in the corner on the small, round stool reserved for doctors and waited by her bedside as technicians performed a variety of tests. Her face showed no emotion, other than a grimace of pain every time she was pricked with a needle.
On the wall over the bed, a painting of a street scene in Charleston, South Carolina, caught my eye. I studied the painting in detail, as I recalled that mother had often spoken of Charleston. It was one of the first places she and my father lived following their wedding on December 26, 1942. I quickly subtracted the years. Tuesday would be their 58th wedding anniversary.
Suddenly, I became acutely aware that we may be facing the end of her earthly life. Our Heavenly Father, in His infinite, loving kindness, always prepares us for what is ahead, if we will be sensitive to His leading. My heart began to scream within me. "No, not tonight! Not tomorrow-it's Christmas Eve! Not Monday-it's Christmas Day! Not Tuesday-it's their anniversary! Not now!"
Then I remembered all the nights I laid awake staring into the darkness asking God to take her to her heavenly home to live with Him. Yet I didn't know if that prayer was for her sake or mine. The day we moved her to a nursing facility six years ago felt like the day of her death. My pain was almost unbearable. "Nevertheless, Lord, not my will, but Yours be done."
I retrieved my New Testament out of my purse and began to flip the pages while I waited in the dimly lit room. Paul wrote in his second letter to the Corinthians, "…In the time of favor (of an assured welcome) I have listened to and heeded your call, and I have helped you on the day of deliverance. Behold, look and see, now is truly the time for a gracious welcome and acceptance of you from God."
Her doctor came in later that night and took my place on the stool. "It's not the usual this time," he began slowly. "It's pneumonia. How long do you want to continue doing this?" His soft-spoken manner belied what I knew he was asking.
"Doing what?" I asked innocently, which I struggled to avoid letting the impact of his words travel from my ears to my heart. "Prolonging her life," he replied.
A quote from the Bible entered my mind, "This day I have set before you life and death. Therefore, choose life." Everything within me screamed, "Well, of course we're going to continue to prolong her life. Do something to make her better."
Breaking the stunned silence while my mind raced, I promised the doctor I would speak to my father the next day. The doctor said goodnight and promised to return in the morning.
Only a few patients remained in the hospital over the Christmas weekend. "Silent Night, Hold Night, All is calm, All is bright," I sang to myself while walking down the eerily quiet halls to her room upstairs.
Although it was late and I was tired, I slept very little that night. I turned on the television and was grateful to hear the choirs that sang Christmas songs throughout the long night. They were like a healing ointment to my hurting heart.
"Oh, little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie. Above they deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by." As I stared out the window into the starry night, I thought of Mary on that Christmas Eve so long ago. She, too, must have felt lonely and afraid giving birth to her firstborn in a barn on a bed of hay, not knowing what to expect in the days ahead. (I doubt she knew that a journey to Egypt was next on God's agenda for her.)
Rays of bright sunlight streamed through the window Christmas Eve morning. Twelve hours of intravenous antibiotics suffused enough strength into mother for her to open her eyes. As I was coaxing her to take the next bit of breakfast, I was surprised to see a hint of the once-familiar twinkle in her eyes again. Oh the miracle of antibiotics! "I love you," I said, trying to smile through the tears welling up in my eyes. "I love you," she replied knowingly.
These were the first words she had articulated in months. I did not know it at the time they would also be her last. The best Christmas gifts are not always tied up in paper and ribbbon. The Christmas miracle lasted only a few days because she began to slip away from us again. Her disease prevailed, and she moved to her home in Heaven three weeks later. St. Francis of Assisi prayed, "It is in dying that we are born to eternal life."
How appropriate were the last words she spoke while here on earth. They summed up her whole reason for being among us for almost eighty years.
"I love you!"
Isn't that the message of the manger? "I Love You!" signed your Heavenly Father.
"How silently, how silently, the precious gift is given. How God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His heaven."
GOD BLESS YOU ALL THIS HOLIDAY SEASON
From Duane 927
CQDX CQDX 927 ONTARIO CANADA
<img src=http://home.comcast.net/~shockwav/greatbrf.gif ALT=":*cacflg">
<img src=http://home.comcast.net/~shockwav/usa_flag_422.gif ALT=":+usflg">
<img src=http://home.comcast.net/~shockwav/canada3.gif ALT="
cnflg"> <img src=http://users.joplin.com/dutch64804/wav.gif ALT=":wav">
Keep Safe, Keep the radio waves clean.
</p>Edited by: <A HREF=http://p067.ezboard.com/bworldwidecbradioclub.showUserPublicProfile?gid=cqdxcqdx927ontariocanada>CQDX CQDX 927 ONTARIO CANADA</A> at: 12/5/04 6:56 pm
