He knows...

I don't know what the man in bed 5 was thinking.  For most of the day, he just lay there.  Still.  Calm. Not moving much.  I think most of the movement was from his eyes as they quietly took in the ebb and flow of life on a medical ward.  There was the near constant rumble of the the oxygen machine nearby.  For some unknown reason, it would alarm.  A cue to a passing nurse that the machine needed to be restarted.  There was the sliding of the medication box.  The crackle of the dispensing envelopes.  And not far away came the moaning of a man whose body was shutting down. 

And he lay.  

The doctors eventually made their way to his bed.  He was calm and quiet.  

But despite his wide eyes, his body slipped the secret.  

He had no palpable blood pressure.

The order came.  Give Normal Saline until a palpable blood pressure.  

He wasn't my patient.  I've been sorta of a gopher the last handful of days.  

Start an IV here.  Give this medication.  Draw blood on this patient.  

I heard about him.  And to be honest, I was a bit intrigued.  A non-detectable blood pressure?  And he was awake?

As I passed by his beds a good handful of times. I saw him.  Open eyed for the most part.  Simply observing.  Quiet.  

Shortly before 4 PM, I looked over and saw him trying to get up.  I went over to help him.  

Beads of sweat were gathered on his brow.  His arms were both clammy and cold.  His nail beds a dusky shade.  

None of those were good.  I asked a student nurse to get the blood sugar machine.  I grabbed the blood pressure cuff and oxygen tester.   

And has had been reported, I could not obtain a blood pressure.  I could neither hear nor see a fluctuation on the mercury as it slithered down from numbers over a hundred to ninety... to seventy... to sixty... to fifty.  There was a slight jump on the mercury near the forties.  That I could see... but I couldn't hear the sound to confirm what the mercury was showing me.  

The pulse ox machine didn't provide much more hope.  Due to his clammy skin and dusky nail beds, the machine struggled to pick up an oxygen level.  

His abdomen was both hard and swollen.  

And he wanted to get out of bed.

And I didn't want him to get out of bed.

And so in my very broken Luganda... I told him no.

Not enough oxygen, no palpable blood pressure, and a hard abdomen.... are all variables that can result in a catastrophe.

There were so many things that my training wanted me to do in that moment.

Drop a foley.
Put in another IV.
Hook him up the heart monitor.
Call a rapid response.
Get blood work STAT.
Put him on oxygen. Keep him in bed.
Put a tube down into his stomach.
Get the doctor bedside STAT.

The list could go on and on.

And yet the oxygen tank was in another room.  It was a massive tank... nearly as tall as myself.  There were no wheels and so it was brought over slowly slowly by a nurse.  The slowly slowly was mostly due to the huge size of the tank and the lack of wheels underneath it.

That tank didn't work.

Next a machine was brought over and plugged in.  I switched on the power and the tech switched on the machine.
Nothing.
The outlet wasn't working.

I mentioned to the nurse I was with that he hadn't urinated.

She told me they knew.

There was so much my training wanted to do... and yet, I didn't know how things were run here.

I asked if we could call the doctor.

I didn't get a response.

His family arrived.

The oxygen was finally connected.  The patient relaxed a bit.

The nurse I had been working with had gone downstairs to the other patients.

I found a lady wearing a doctor's coat at the nurses station.

I approached her and told her that the patient in bed five was not fine.

Gave her the information I had gathered.

She was gracious.  She was interested.  And she stood from where she was and walked over to bed five.

She took out her stethoscope.  She tapped his stomach.  And she assured me she would call the doctors who had worked on him earlier.  She would also find out what doctor was on call for the night.

I prayed with the man from bed five that night.  I put my hand on his clammy arm and prayed with him.  Over him.

And shortly after the lady in the white coat saw him, I left.

The man from bed five has been on my heart multiple times since.

And I've prayed.

And I've wondered.

Tomorrow, I'll hopefully find out what happened.

Was he taken to surgery?  to the ICU?  or did his body succumb to hours of no palpable blood pressure?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And tomorrow has come.   I returned back to the hospital that has my attention for the next near 8 weeks.  I had no sooner put my bag down when I was asked to help in the "last office" care of a patient.  Last office?  I had no idea what I was being asked to do.  Until someone clarified.  Someone had died and we needed to prepare the body.

And so I did.  I told the student nurse that I was working with that he was the chief.  He would tell me what to do.  Death is a universal reality, but the cultural realities surrounding death is super unique.

I asked what the "last office" stood for.  The student nurse I was working with had no idea.  He just smiled and giggled.  I was definitely curious, but didn't push it too much.  I just helped him with the "last office".  Delicate care of the an individual who has passed away preparing them for the morgue.  

And after the last office was complete, we put him on a trolley and prepared for his last ride.  The journey lasted about 5 minutes.  It was a somber journey that was slowed down both by respect and the bumps on the path.

We reached.  And we handed off this man to the gentlemen at the morgue.  The student nurse I was with signed the patient in.  And as he did, I saw the names of two different individuals that I had taken care of on Friday.

It was clear by his name entered into the morgue book that the man I had worked with from bed 5 on Friday had succumbed to the war raging on within his body.

I found myself staring at his name.

I didn't know him.  Only spoke broken Luganda with him.  Prayed over him.  Put my hand on his clammy arm.  Adjusted the oxygen on his face.  Asked the doctor at the nurses station to see him.

I talked with the nurse that was with him in the early hours of Saturday.

He had been well surrounded in his final moments.

I am thankful for that.

Did he know the presence of Jesus in those final moments?

I do not know.  But I can't help but rest in the character of my Jesus.

He knew this man.  To Him, he was not simply the man in bed 5.   He knew the things that brought this man joy.  He knew the pains of heart.  The things that he shard openly and the things that remained hidden in his heart.  He knew his family.  He knew the size of his feet and the exact number of hairs on his head.  He KNEW him.

He knew His frame.

He knows my frame.

And I'm clinging to that.  I'm clinging to that truth that God knows my frame as I interact with those around me.

As I hop on a motorcycle each day and head to a hospital and take care of patients.

As I get the privilege of doing things I didn't even know I missed.

Like bed baths, IV starts, and intense medical moments.

But God knows my frame.  And he knew I've been missing these things... even more than I did.

And as I see nursing done so differently than how I've been trained... He knows the struggles in my heart.

He knows my frame.

As I feel the stress of trusting Him with my needs after the recent break-in.

I can choose to rest.

He knows my frame.

When my heart is light and I know His joy.  I can celebrate.

He knows my frame.


He knows your frame.

He knows....

11.  For nas high as the heavens are above the earth,

so great is his osteadfast love toward pthose who fear him;

12  as far as the east is from the west,

so far does he qremove our transgressions from us.

13  As ra father shows compassion to his children,

so the Lord shows compassion pto those who fear him.

14  For he knows our frame;1

he sremembers that we are dust.

15  As for man, his days are like tgrass;

he flourishes like ua flower of the field;

16  for vthe wind passes over it, and wit is gone,

and xits place knows it no more.

17  But ythe steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on pthose who fear him,

Psalm 103

He knows...

The battle is already WON.

It often takes a bit before my soul and my fingers match up...and the words begin to flow.

Today, my struggle is a bit different.  

I don't really want to blog... I don't really want to say much.... 

My heart is feeling stretched... bruised..... worn down.....

And just as I woke up from a headache this afternoon.  My head pounding from the last few days, I pulled up my twitter account.  And there was Beth Moore announcing a new blog post.  

I scanned facebook.  Looked over my twitter feed.  Got lost in the daze of the internet.  

Nothing bad... but it's crazy how much time can be lost surfing the net.  

I have high respect for Beth.   Truth be Told, I would love to sit and have coffee (or tea) with her.  There are so many questions I would love to ask.  And who knows... maybe one day God will orchestrate.  Maybe not.  I'll leave that to Him.  

Social Media.  It's not bad.  But so often for me... it's a time filler.

  

I love so much about social media.  But somehow for today turning on social media was like taking a vitamin when what I really needed were some serious spiritual antibiotics.  

I mean I love you all.  And social media is the very thing that keeps most of us connected.  

Like I said... it's not bad.  But I do think there is some not so great in there as well.  

I am thankful that in God's sweet sovereignty I clicked on Beth's new blog post.  

And I read.  A message to those in their 30's and 40's.   

That's me.  A woman in her 30's.  (amazing how in so many ways, I feel like I"m still in my early 20's)  

And I read.  

Truth be told, I first skimmed the blog post. 

A short while later.... I slowed myself down and I READ the words.  

And have gone back to it multiple times since.  

And I felt both encouraged and kicked.  And if there was such a thing as good kicking... this was.  

A read that  truth be told initially left me scrambling for excuses...but thankfully His whisper won out.  

God's not about condemning.  

And I can't go by just feelings.  That is the exact reason I AM bringing fingers to the keyboard.  

The reason that I am sharing from my heart.   

Everything in me wants to keep quiet. 

But there is danger in that quietness.  

Danger in letting the excuses of life outweigh the whisper of my Jesus.  

There is even danger for me in turning to social media first before turning to my Jesus.   

Real danger.  

Yesterday afternoon, I came back from church and a quick tea with a friend.  I had spent much of the weekend preparing for an 8 week journey to the capital.  My suitcase was packed and I had just a few randoms things to do before I left.  

As I was finishing the dishes, I noticed dirt on the window sill.  And so, I grabbed a rag and started wiping it down... only to notice that there was a dent in the screen.  And even in that split second an uneasiness came over me.  I reached up and touched the screen.  Instead of meeting resistance, I was met with a giving out of the screen. 

My screen had been cut.  Enough for someone to crawl through.  

I just sorta of stopped in my tracks.  

I texted for help.  And before I knew it I was surrounded by friends.  

A few hours later a dog was brought.  An attempt to track the thief.  

Didn't happen.  

There were a few trips to the police station.  Reports to be filled.  Knowing that someone has been in my house is quite unsettling.   Having things stolen... also unsettling.  

And yesterday, as I stepped away for a few minutes.... I found myself saying out loud.  The victory already belongs to Jesus.  The battle is ALREADY won.  My feelings leave me feeling vulnerable, unsettled, unsure... but I can't rest on feelings.  

 Ephesians 6: 12

12 For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.

The truth is.  My God is with ME.  My God is personal.  He is actively involved and present both in the good and in the bad.  He is no less with me today than he was with me the day I found out my sister died.  Or the day that I held Ayeko after a life changing operation.  Or the moment I graduated nursing school.... or....... the list is endless.  

I want to keep walking.  And I will.  

Keep standing.  Keep leaning into Jesus. 

Truth be told, I need to be leaning into Jesus a WHOLE lot more than I am.  

I am encouraged by the words... and kicked in a good way with the areas of my heart that need to change.  

Because there are definitely areas of my heart that need to change.  

And areas of my heart that need to be encouraged by what I read today.  

There are new locks on my doors... and the windows have been screwed shut. 

And soon, I'll be drifting off to sleep. 

Tomorrow morning will be take two with the journey to the capital. 

Hopefully, I'll still feel the sting of the kick.  And the adrenaline of the encouragement.  

And I'll keep walking with Him and ALL that He has planned for me.  

He is good. SO SO good.  And I love Him.

PS.  Here is Beth's blog post if you would like to read her post.
 http://blog.lproof.org/2016/05/to-servants-of-jesus-in-your-30s-and-40s.html

Today.  

Well, it's currently the 6th of May. It's a few minutes past seven and I'm laying on my bed typing.  The power is out and there is only a faint bit of light crawling in from the other room.  Solar is set up in my main room... but hasn't quite been set up in my bedroom. I'm thankful for that light.  Without it, I would be fuffing with candles and flashlights.  Fuffing.  It's a new word I learned this week.  I am always up for a new word... but the problem is I don't always remember new words as I should.  This week I texted my friend thinking I was using the proper British word for something... only to realize I had totally messed it up.  Instead of communicating something nicely.... I was actually communicating it a bit rawly.  So thankful for grace, good laughs, and more grace....and more laughs.    But, one thing I am pretty sure about is the word Fuffing  Not fluffing or faffing... but fuffing.  Shoot, maybe it should be faffing.  Now, I am not so sure.  

And I've probably lost a few... literally.  

It has been a week.  I come to the end of this week feeling stretched and stretched some more.  

I feel like I could write a novel and yet, I keep deleting the words.  

Today, my friend and I went into Kampala.  The plan was to do a whole lot of "fuffing"... aka chilling.  Being.  

It's what I needed to today.  Exhaling, Inhaling, and just being.  

We had a fun breakfast... picked up a stroller for a friend who just welcomed a baby into her home... and did a little shopping.  

As we were coming out of one store, we saw 3 helicopters zooming around in the sky.  One turned on it's side.  It was odd.  People were looking up.  There wasn't fear in the air, but there was an awareness that people were observing... and wondering.  

Then as the helicopters were seen flying, police sirens further broke the air.  

Weird.  A bit unnerving.  

But just as quick as that happened, we continued on with our day.  

We went into the grocery store and started picking up things we needed (and truth be told a few goodies I didn't need...)     And then, without much warning there were loud noises heard.  Sounds of planes much too close.  And heard again.  And heard again.  

They were fighter jets.  

It was a moment where you stop.  And you suddenly feel small.  And a bit unsafe.  

And then it was over.  

The President is being sworn in next week and the military wants to show their power to the opposition.  Well, if they didn't succeed with the opposition, I must say that they did a good job showing their power to the general public.  

Yep, I think I will be staying in the bush next week.  

The moody power and internet is a welcomed thing.  As are the sound of the bugs greeting the night.  And the sound of children playing.  

Yes, I'll keep faffing.  

I'll keep being in what He has for me. 

My heart is feeling a bit discouraged.  A bit raw.  Feeling like I'm being stretched.  

So wanting to know the Power of my Jesus as He stands against my opposition.

I want to lean into Him and I want to faff with Him.  I want to chill.  To be.  To rest.  

With My Jesus.  

Ahhhh even in the stretching times... I love that there is so much in life to smile about.  

Like the creativity of words.  And the beauty of the sun peeking up over the horizon.  

And in the bumps of a road that is more bumps than dirt.  

A day in Kampala

Last night I sat at the kitchen table and created my list.  

The list of ALL the things that I needed to do.  

Nothing on the list was unnecessary.  

So at 4:58 AM this morning, I woke up on my own.  A quick glance at my phone told me both the time and the fact that my phone battery was critically low.   Despite the 4%, I still pushed snooze when he alarm rang and attempted to drift off to sleep for a few minutes.  But with a 4% battery imprinted on my brain... I got up far before the snooze would have alarmed.  

I was out the door by about 5:29 AM.  

I picked up a young lady who needed to see the eye doctor and a young man who was slated to meet up with Ayeko and his dad.  

After a quick stop at the clinic, we were off.  

Ours destination was a bit over 50 km, but with traffic and potholes and crazy motorcycle drivers and people walking all over... the drive was expected to take about 3 hours.  And in the end, it took just a little less than that.  

We arrived at CorSu hospital a bit after 8.  We had made good time.  

Chandiru and her older sister Zam came out to greet us.  Chandiru is about a week post-surgery and she looks GOOD.  Lots of smiles.  And lots of pain.  It seems that pain has been more of an issue this time around.  

Chandiru's sister works in our baby house here at New Hope.  She is an amazing woman who loves and cares for children as if they were her own.  And last night, she not only took care of her baby sister recovering from significant surgery, but she also cared for a little boy who had been abandoned at the hospital.  All that is known about this little boy is that his name is Joseph.  He is believed to be about 3 years old.  It is evident that he has special needs.  

How heartbreaking.  

After talking to the social worker about Joseph and praying with Chandiru, we were off.  

My IY student hopped a boda boda for the international hospital to meet up with Ayeko and his dad when they arrived.  

The young lady who joined me remained.  

Before we knew it, we had dropped off meds about to expire at one place and she had seen the eye doctor.  Next, my car was dropped for new tires and the young lady and I hopped a boda boda and began the adventure of Drug Shopping.  A few things here... a few things there... and a LOT of things at there.  Before we knew it, we had bought and organized a LOT of drugs and supplies.  

We grabbed lunch, got the car, and headed to another car man.  The first was telling me something was wrong with my car.  I wasn't convinced.   And sure enough, my car was fine.  That quick double check cost me a bit of time, but saved me a good chunk of change.  

Yeah.  

And then we were off to the International Hospital.  

And there we met up with Ayeko and his dad.  

And before we knew it... we were with the doctor.  

And we got excellent news.  Things are moving along great.  And where there was concern there was poor to no muscle present in his bottom, we discovered there was.    And that, my friends, is HUGELY amazing news.  For a little boy born without an opening for his stool to pass.  Knowing there is muscle tone... is HUGE. 

Ayeko didn't so much appreciate seeing the doctor today.  It wasn't the most pleasant of visits.   

But that is ok.  Today's appointment is HUGELY amazing.  

And so with a few more errands we were on the road again.  

Bumpy, Puddly, and Exhausting... but ALL so worth it.  

A FULL day.... with lots of sweetness and adventure.  

Good Afternoon!  The sun finally peaked out from behind the clouds a bit ago and I am celebrating that.  Rainy season started a few weeks back and let me tell you.... the rains have not held back.  My water tank is bursting with water and the ground is having near constant arguments on whether or not it will swallow the rain that comes.   Puddles are everywhere.  And the green that defines so much of Uganda is just that much more green.  It's my day off and I have been busy doing a myriad of things.

I've been slashing (cutting the grass with one of these...)

I've run into town to pick up these....                                                             

  

I've spent some time writing.... (aka typing)

no sneak peeks to this writing..... ( : 

And I spent some time sipping on tea chatting with a friend.  

 And I've spent some time journaling with my Jesus... 

And doing dishes... and mopping the floor.... and somehow resting here and there....

And guess what I did yesterday?!?!?!?!  I totally drove into Kampala with a few of my friends and sat in a chair for just about 3 hours.... and came out with this......

I've never had my whole head braided...but so far I am LOVING it!!!!!   There are even extensions tucked into all those braids.  This is the kind of drama I love! Controlled Drama.

And so with a day off coming to an end...I prepare for the week ahead of me.

There is lots to do this coming week.

Remember this cutie?!?!?



Opeson Luke is going back to CorSu for a review.  I am hoping to see him on Thursday.   I might be catching a picture of a little boy RUNNING with two straight legs.  Now, that is EXCITING!











Ayeko should be going back for a review following his first surgery.

Here he is minutes before he was taken down to the theatre.

He was in surgery for about 2 1/2 hours....

The staff at the hospital were amazing.  His dad was with him in the theatre until he fell asleep. Then, just as Ayeko was waking up, they allowed his dad to go into  the recovery area.  

What a gift.  Ayeko is a timid little one and the presence of his dad is both calming and reassuring.  And what a gift for his dad.

Here he is a bit after surgery.

And Chandiru SHOULD be discharged from the hospital.  Prayerfully, this last surgery was successful and this young lady will be abel to open her mouth wider than she ever has been able to.  Something so simple and yet something So huge. Please Jesus.  

And so the week takes off.   

Patients to see.  

Kids to hug.  

Meetings to have.  

A review to write... along with a few letters.  

A journal to finish and God-willing a new one to start. 

Days to embrace and moments to remember. 

 Yep, this is the life I have been given.  And these are the moments I will embrace. 

Cycling, laughing, and trusting.

Last night I woke up in the wee hours of the night and stumbled to the bathroom.   And as I flipped on the light, I saw a bit of movement.  And before really much more than that could register in my half awake mind, I saw more movement.  The cutest, littlest mouse emerged from behind the door.  And then it looked up and it saw me.  And I got a full glimpse of it.  And though I was barely awake... all I could think of was it was actually cute.  And while, one might say that I should have grabbed a stick and taken care of it, I didn't.  I could nearly palpate it's fear.  And so, I let it run.  It ran right past me and into the main room.  I didn't even peek out to see where it ran too.  I just kept on with what I had gotten out of bed to do.   And before I knew it, I was back in bed and deep asleep.

Yep, I haven't written on my blog for well over a month and this is what I write about?!?!

Yes, it's my opening story.  It's a few minutes after ten and you guessed it, the bugs are greeting the night.  Truth be told, they have been greeting the night for nearly 3 1/2 hours.  I've been putzing around my house.  Working on dishes, organizing laundry, doing some odd and end work stuff, soaking my feet.... all that kind of stuff.

And as I moved from thing to thing, my eyes found a piece of paper.  A paper that had been given to me back in October.  It's a grief cycle paper.   I looked at it for a bit and some of those emotions really caught my eye.  

One could say I should have known.... but many of those words were emotions I have been feeling.

And feeling rather strongly.

I have felt the burn of anger.  And struggled to know why.

I've felt the pangs of loneliness even when sitting in a large room.

In fact, as I look over the paper, I see that so many of those emotions have been so real to me in these last days.

These days are... well, what they are.

I have made it a few days without the tears burning my eyes.

And then I have found myself fighting back the burn.

My sister.

No, this will be a journey for days and weeks to come.  I have been pulled back and forth in the process... but I am hopeful that as I walk.... that Hope will only blossom.

That peace will come in the breaking of the dawn.

And part of the sweetness of where God has me... is that there are opportunities ALL around me to pull my attention.  Yes, this can be a not good thing... but at the very same time, I think it can be a very good thing.

It can be an eye turner.  A heart changer.  And a reminder of the so much good out there.

And speaking of good.  Let me tell you about two peeps having HUGE surgeries this week.

Chandiru had pretty significant jaw surgery back in the fall.  She had complications from tetanus that she contracted as a small baby.  The surgery was only partially successful.  But for Chandiru, it was a LOT successful.  She was so excited that she could put a spoon in her mouth and that she could breathe easier at night.  The part that wasn't so successful will hopefully be addressed this week by a second surgery.  She has been admitted to the hospital and will either have surgery tomorrow or Wednesday.

Little Ayeko was identified back in September during a medical outreach.  An amazing ministry, Willing and Abel has sponsored his medical care.  God is using this ministry to change the lives of so many children... and little Ayeko is one of them.  This little guy looks really healthy and in many ways he is.... but he was born with a significant medical condition.  The passageway that allows stool to exit the body was not open.  A colostomy was placed and complications developed.  Part of his intestines are outside of his body.  Surgery number one happens on Thursday.  Before this little guy knows it, he will be a new little guy.  Free from the hassles that come when your insides are outside.  It is such an honor to walk with this family.  Little Ayeko has been teary and afraid in our previous interactions.  This past Thursday, he was beaming with joy and laughter. 

Will you stand with these two in prayer?  With their families?  

I know I have a good group of friends and family standing with me.  And something tells me you all won't mind standing with these two..  

Love to you all!  

Kimberly/Kimmy/Kim

A twisted path....

I feel like I start so many of my blogs the same way.  

I verbalize the struggle to bring words from my soul to my fingers.  

I often talk about the sounds and scenery surrounding me.  

Somehow, it helps my fingers warm up.  

Somehow, it allows the words to flow more smoothly from within my heart.  

And so, here I sit.  Not sure who my audience is or if these words will even make a debut on my blog.  But I'm writing.  If anyone, it's for me and my Jesus.  

And for old kicks sake.... or new sakes, I bring words to my surroundings.  I have some worship music slowly coming from the speakers of my computer.  A car just honked outside and I can hear the slow bustle of traffic.  No chickens yet.  I haven't quite reached Uganda.  Instead, I hear a few birds greeting the day.  My friend's husband is mixing something in the kitchen.  I can hear the clink of the spoon against something and anticipate that the microwave will turn on any minute.  The day has begun.  I've been awake for just over 2 hours.  That's pretty good.  Jet lag has been kind to me.  A 12 hour jump forward in time and I've only had a few times of the jet-lag fog.  

That's pretty good.  I'll take it... no complaints coming from me.  

I'll be hopping on another jet plane soon. This time, the once seemingly long 5 plus hour flight will pale in comparison to the 15 plus hour flight i just took.   

Leaving the States and preparing to fly over the ocean was a bit more emotional than I expected.  

Grief seems to be a journey that has a lot of twists and turns.  And it doesn't seem merciful to whether or not you have journeyed it before.  

It's there. 

It's here in my heart. 

And yet, I refuse to let it reign over me.  To deny it would be wrong.  To allow it control over my heart would be equally wrong.  And so, today I acknowledge that it remains.  

Remains.

It's there.  My heart and mind often wander to memories of my sister.  And to her family.  

God has graciously brought memories to mind.  

Good conversations.  

Laughter.  

Lots of laughter.  

Grief.  It's a loaded experience.  The twists and turns can be daunting.  And I've realized that Grief demands your attention.  You can't stuff it, deny it, run from it, or really avoid it.  

It is there.  

In the thereness, I have done my fair share of letting the tears fall. I've smiled through those tears as memories floated through my heart and mind.  I've struggled to believe that she really is gone. I've been tempted to text her, send her a message, call her.  

And yet, somehow, the reality of what happened a month ago is slowly becoming a reality of my today.  

And that is a mixed bag for me.  

Glad that Grief isn't hanging over me likes an overcasting cloud.   

But torn, because somehow as the deep grief somehow begins to lift, I feel somehow guilty that life is moving on.  

How can I move on right now?  

Somehow, (that seems to be the word of the day)I don't want life to move on. Somehow, I want it to go at a snail pace. I don't want to get lost in busyness.  Don't want to get lost in life so much that I forget my baby sister. 

Her smile, her laughter is so clear in my mind right now.  I can see her looking at me and my heart smiles.  I do not want to forget.  

I've replayed the day of seeing her body at the funeral home.  

Countless times in my mind.  

I hated feeling her cold hands.  And can still feel the coldness from when I kissed her forehead.  

Those cold hands. I just wanted to keep holding them.  Wanted them to be warmed up.  

I don't want to forget.  

And then I remember her laughter.  Her spice.  

Her spice.  

Goodness, my sister had some serious spice.   

And then I find that in my remembering, I've actually taken a handful of steps.  

I've kept walking.  And I am pretty sure that is exactly what she would want me to do.  

To keep walking.  

To embrace the day in front of me and to walk.  

And so, sweet baby sis, I'm walking. 

And I am confident that as I continue to walk.  As I continue to remember. And as I lean up against my Jesus... That the grief will change.  It will hopefully lessen.  And my memories will only deepen.  

And so, for my sister's sake, I get on a plane tomorrow.  

With an open palm.  And I keep walking.  

And skyping with her kiddos.  And laughing with my siblings.  

And pouring in as able.  

And remembering.  

And trusting.  

He's got this.  And He's got me and for that I am so thankful.  

"You can shed tears that she is gone, or you can smile because she has lived.  

You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back, or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.  

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her, or you can be fully of the love you shared.  

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.  

You can remember her only that she is gone, or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.  

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back.  

Or you can do what she'd want:  

Smile, 

open your eyes, 

love 

and go on."

- David Harkins