We'd planned our whole day around our appointment with Wyatt's doctor today. When you are sick or broken, you somehow use the "next appointment mentality" to get you through. In a strange way, it's like a goal to reach for. I know this all too well these days. It's been just over two weeks since Wyatt broke his leg. We were looking forward to seeing how he's progressed.
Already showered and mostly ready to take my oldest to school, the phone rings at 8:03AM and it's the doctor's office canceling because the doctor is sick today but would try to work us in on Friday. I hung up and thought about the several other things I'd normally do today and how I'd canceled all those plans. Frustrated, now what to do?
Our portion leaves us here at home for long hours, looking out windows at squirrels scurrying across the yard, already gathering for winter. It leaves us tired from long days and nights. Logistics are what seems the hardest to manage. Nothing seems very easy these days.
Starting to run late now after trying to decide what to do when, I punt and change course. Thomas is late for school. Should he stay until 11:30AM or in extended care until 2PM? Wyatt's diaper situation is complicated and the diapers we are to cut in half have run out. I have more, but they haven't been cut and taped yet. Grab the nap mat, lunchbox, kiss the baby, leave him with my mother-in-law and go.
Speaking with Thomas' teacher at school, I notice that in his class of all boys and only two girls, that there's a new girl. When I asked his teacher about her, excited for a little more diversity, she explained that she didn't know if she'd be staying and that, in fact, her father had just died and the funeral was today at 2:30PM. After she said that, it seemed like time stood still for at least a few seconds. I felt like a Ringwraith had sucked the breath out of me right then and there. His teacher said it was a brain tumor.
Struck speechless, I watched this little girl in pink and felt that I wanted to go to her and empathetically kneel and hold her close. She is four-years-old and is at pre-school the day of her father's funeral. She has no idea what this day will mean to her for the rest of her life. I wished I could somehow explain to her four-year-old mind to try to remember this day's details and to cherish the feeling of honor to have so many come to pay respect and celebrate the life of her father.
Walking back to my car, I fought tears. I had heard about her father's situation in an email from a friend. He just found out less than one month ago that he had a brain tumor. One doctor told him it was dormant and there was no cause for concern. Another said it was fatal and that he had a few months to live. In their late 40's, this couple had been missionaries most of their lives. She, the mother, was unable to have children all those years and had adopted her and her siblings just in the last few years, I believe. They have no health insurance.
There are several things, I've come to believe, that I may never understand this side of heaven. This is one of them. Please keep the Stearns family in your thoughts and prayers. Thanks.
9.15.2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
“I don’t think the way you think. The way you work isn’t the way I work.” God’s Decree. “For as the sky soars high above earth, so the way I work surpasses the way you work, and the way I think is beyond the way you think. Just as rain and snow descend from the skies and don’t go back until they’ve watered the earth, Doing their work of making things grow and blossom, producing seed for farmers and food for the hungry, So will the words that come out of my mouth not come back empty-handed. They’ll do the work I sent them to do, they’ll complete the assignment I gave them. “So you’ll go out in joy, you’ll be led into a whole and complete life. The mountains and hills will lead the parade, bursting with song. All the trees of the forest will join the procession, exuberant with applause. No more thistles, but giant sequoias, no more thornbushes, but stately pines— Monuments to me, to God, living and lasting evidence of God.” (Isaiah 55:8-13, The Message)
going to the life celebration of the dad of the sweet girl this afternoon. we just had coffee with him 3 weeks ago. life is so precious.
I picked her up for church on Sunday. She looked up at me with those sweet brown eyes and simply said, "My daddy died." Ugh. Then she proceded to pull her long white socks with lacey tops up to her thighs. Still a sassy girl amidst the grief! LOVE that family!
Thanks for sharing that Elizabeth. i love that you brought her skittles. You are so sweet. Sad you missed her. Praying for you guys. Hang in there. I can totally relate with changed appts. So frustrating. Esp. when you change everything to make it work. My dad has a lot of heart problems and had scheduled an appt. to get in b/c of some scary symptoms. They sent him a post card to cancel his appt. and rescheduled it 3 months later. They did this two more times. It took him almost a year to get in. And he is a dr and is friends with the dr. I would have gone crazy. It is so hard to pick up your day when it has been thrown to the wind. We'll keep praying for you guys. Olivia and Annika ask about Wyatt all of the time. On Sun. she wanted to go up and ask for prayer for him, but I told her he is already on the prayer list so people are already praying. she liked that. :) She's NEVER gone up to ask for prayer for anything. Wyatt has made quite an impression on her. :)
Man, life can get serious, y'all. Each day is a gift. Definitely. Can I get a little carpe diem up in here? Word.
Kate, I think the fact that your girls have such a heart for Wyatt is because they are modeling what they see, my friend. Thanks for YOUR heart too. And, bless those sweet girls for thinking 'bout our Wyatt!
Post a Comment