September
“She won’t see her next birthday”. The thought was piercing inside; that was the message I was almost certain God was sending to me when, in late, late December, my three-year-old son insisted on buying his great grandmother a birthday card. Her birthday wasn’t until September 10th. His pure, open heart was acutely aware of something that the rest of us couldn’t have known. For a few moments, the world seemed to stop. What if she really doesn’t see her next birthday?
Well, a month passed and I had all but forgotten what happened; after all, she had been in perfect health for years and still was. Then one February morning Mom called to tell me that she was very sick. She’d been feeling bad for several days and had gotten so weak that she fell in the floor and wasn’t able to get up to call for help. After she was taken to the hospital, it was discovered that she had pneumonia, along with many other problems. Every day that I saw her, she seemed weaker. Her legs were full of blood clots and they were incredibly swollen. During those early spring months, I often thought about what had happened back December. Although everyone was aware that her time was especially precious by then, I still felt as though I possessed a sad truth that no one else knew.
As days turned to months, my grandmother would temporarily improve only to be disheartened again when something else went wrong. So often, she was plagued by the side effects of the very medicine that was working on her life-threatening illness.
Throughout her illness, she was sent to two hospitals and two nursing homes.
“This hospital has really good chocolate cake, but the nursing home had really good roast beef.” She’d explain. I joked that she should write an article about her “medical facility cuisine tour”. We made light of a lot of things, but it didn’t change what I knew.
September 10th came all too soon. Autumn was beginning to show its signs; the nights were getting much shorter and a bit chilly. My son and I picked out a different card for his great grandmother. 87 birthdays were celebrated on this day for her.
Her 88th was no exception. She made it.
Interestingly, way back before her illness, she said to me once, “Who’d want to be eighty seven years old?” Well, I don’t know about that, but I do know someone who wanted to make it to eighty eight more than anything on earth.
I still know in my heart, that God was speaking to me that day in the store. I interpreted His message the only way that seemed logical at the time, but His love reaches so far beyond anything that I could ever figure out on my own. I know now that it was a simple reminder that no one is guaranteed to see another birthday. Everyday is precious and significant. Everyone is precious and significant.
Who’s to say what the future holds for my grandmother. I do know that everyday of her long life has been lovingly planned and orchestrated by our Heavenly Father. And I know that there will come a day when a date on a calendar and a number on a birthday cake will no longer hold significance to her in her life eternal.
Well, a month passed and I had all but forgotten what happened; after all, she had been in perfect health for years and still was. Then one February morning Mom called to tell me that she was very sick. She’d been feeling bad for several days and had gotten so weak that she fell in the floor and wasn’t able to get up to call for help. After she was taken to the hospital, it was discovered that she had pneumonia, along with many other problems. Every day that I saw her, she seemed weaker. Her legs were full of blood clots and they were incredibly swollen. During those early spring months, I often thought about what had happened back December. Although everyone was aware that her time was especially precious by then, I still felt as though I possessed a sad truth that no one else knew.
As days turned to months, my grandmother would temporarily improve only to be disheartened again when something else went wrong. So often, she was plagued by the side effects of the very medicine that was working on her life-threatening illness.
Throughout her illness, she was sent to two hospitals and two nursing homes.
“This hospital has really good chocolate cake, but the nursing home had really good roast beef.” She’d explain. I joked that she should write an article about her “medical facility cuisine tour”. We made light of a lot of things, but it didn’t change what I knew.
September 10th came all too soon. Autumn was beginning to show its signs; the nights were getting much shorter and a bit chilly. My son and I picked out a different card for his great grandmother. 87 birthdays were celebrated on this day for her.
Her 88th was no exception. She made it.
Interestingly, way back before her illness, she said to me once, “Who’d want to be eighty seven years old?” Well, I don’t know about that, but I do know someone who wanted to make it to eighty eight more than anything on earth.
I still know in my heart, that God was speaking to me that day in the store. I interpreted His message the only way that seemed logical at the time, but His love reaches so far beyond anything that I could ever figure out on my own. I know now that it was a simple reminder that no one is guaranteed to see another birthday. Everyday is precious and significant. Everyone is precious and significant.
Who’s to say what the future holds for my grandmother. I do know that everyday of her long life has been lovingly planned and orchestrated by our Heavenly Father. And I know that there will come a day when a date on a calendar and a number on a birthday cake will no longer hold significance to her in her life eternal.
posted by Kelly | 6:38 PM
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