Like so many other people around the world right now, within the past several weeks I got the call I’d been dreading—the call notifying me that that villainous virus that has invaded our world had made its way into the long-term nursing/care facility my mother was moved into last year; and then, after a few more angst-filled days, I received that other dreaded call—the call telling me that Mom had tested positive for the virus.
I’m realizing now that I really did think, and foolishly so, that I understood human suffering, that I had accepted our lack of control down here, that I had been properly schooled via events such as my beloved father’s suicide and my own battle with blood cancer. But I was very wrong. I feel like I am learning all over again, and perhaps in even more profound ways, about what continues to be the “great” leveler of humanity—uncontrollable disease and unfathomable suffering.
Thankfully, I’ve been able to talk to my mother quite often as she battles this virus, along with her other multiple life-threatening conditions; and during several of our talks, as I tried to find the right words to reassure her, I heard her say, “Just get here, Angie, please…get here!” And each time she’s said this to me, I’ve gently explained to her that I can’t just get there, get to her—not yet, not while her facility, like so many others, is on lockdown. “Soon, Mom, really, really soon…” That’s what I keep saying; that’s what I keep trying to believe.
Yesterday, after our longest conversation yet, I kept hearing Mom’s words to me, “Get here!” And those two words took me back, way back, to a love song I used to listen to all the time, a song sung by Oleta Adams. Some of the lyrics are: “You can jump on a speedy colt, cross the border in a blaze of hope/I don’t care how you get here, just get here if you can/There are hills and mountains between us/Always something to get over/If I had my way, surely you would be closer/I need you closer” (“Get Here,” song lyrics written by Brenda Russell).
I so wish that I could get there and that every other loved one in my position could too. I so wish that all it took was a fast colt and a bunch of hope. I so wish that there weren’t hills and mountains in our way and that there wasn’t always something for us to get over. But clearly, my wishing it doesn’t make it so. Yet I can’t stop myself—and I think that’s a good thing. I don’t believe that we should ever let ourselves stop wishing/hoping for what everything around us seems to tell us is beyond our grasp. I believe that God made us in a such a way that we cannot help but wish for more than this broken world can offer.
I also believe that Mom is not alone and that when she calls out “Get here!”, someone already has—and He will never leave her side. He, our great God, does not abandon us when we most need him. Some may be wondering how we can ever be sure of such a thing, especially considering how the world looks now. We can be sure because the flesh-and-blood Christ from our history books, the Bible along with others, painted for us a picture of what God is truly like by loving those whom others didn’t even want to look at, much less touch. Christ loved the widow, the sick and the disabled, the lonely and the outcast, the orphan and the poor—the ones with very little to offer materially, the ones more dead than alive, until they met him.
So, even though I’m having a lot of days now during which my confidence in a happy short-term ending is waning, I know that God’s still here, even in the darkest corners. And I know too that someone, a magnificent someone, will “get here” again when the time is right; and he might even show up on a speedy colt in a blaze of hope. And when he does, any of us who have ever felt invisible or forgotten or alone will know with certainty that, though we might well have felt so, we never really were.
Angie so well put God is always with us and will be there until he takes us home with him. Prayers for your family.
Thank you so very much for reading and for commenting and, most of all, for praying!
Angela,
I am so sorry to hear this. You and your Mom are in my prayers. Two weeks ago Friday I received a call at work from my father telling me that an ambulance had just picked up my mother who was having a heart attack and that they would not allow him to go with her. I left immediately and drove to Rex Hospital while my brother left his job to be with my dad. I arrived at the ER where I was interviewed in an empty parking lot and told to wait in my vehicle. Before I could go sit Security informed me that she was there, however she was in the Catg lab and there are no inpatient visitors. I was told to take a seat in the waiting room which was empty. 20 minutes later someone escorted me to the Chest Pain Center waiting room also empty and told me to wait there and the Dr. would speak to me after her procedure. An hour and a half later 2 Doctors came and informed me that my mother had flat lined and was saved by CPR but they were not sure if there was any damage due to loss of oxygen to her brain. She was in ICU on a ventilator with one stint on medication to elevate her heart rate and if she recovers she would require two more stints before she could come home. The following Tuesday she got two more stints. They wanted her to leave on Wednesday and be moved to rehab. We said no we would bring her home and get in home care. Wednesday morning. they decide to keep her 2 more day’s and I picked her up Friday a week later and took her home. She had spent most of her time in bed but is slowly getting better.
I know how difficult it is to be unable to be there in such serious situations. I pray for you and your mom and your family. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you. Love Wayne
Thank you, Wayne, for sharing this! I know you do understand what it’s like. I’m so glad that your mom is getting better-and I so appreciate your prayers for my mom!
Angie I am so sorry your mom has this virus. It has got to be so frustrating not to be able to be with our loved ones at a time like this. She is already in my prayers for healing and prayers for you and your family feeling so helpless. Hang in there God is in control but that doesn’t mean we don’t hurt when our earthly world seems to be falling down around us. I wish I could give you a real hug right now but we can’t. a virtual hug but believe me my prayers and thoughts are real. Love you and stay safe.
Thank you PB for reading and commenting! I’m imagining that hug from you in my mind’s eye! Thank you for those precious prayers-and please stay safe yourself!
I’m so sorry to hear about your mom, standing with you, sister and praying from afar. Miss you <3
Thank you for those prayers!
Thanks for sharing. This lifted my spirits. Beautiful!!!
Thank you for reading and commenting, Etta! It makes me so happy to know that what I’ve shared has lifted your spirits because that’s the whole reason I did it! So thanks for telling that-much love to you always!
Praying that God should send forth His word and heal her.
Thank you, Flossie, for these healing prayers-I look so forward to the day when we can “tea” together again, either here in Wake Forest or there in Malawi
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The whole post and especially the last paragraph resonated with me in such a profound way. Thank you for being so transparent to share your story and struggle and for pointing us back to the source of our hope. Praying for your mom, of course and always. Love you sis!
Thank you for sharing. I have a dear sister in the same situation. My trust is in Him.
Thank you, Valerie, for reading and for sharing ♥️!
Thank you, Walinda, for these words of encouragement! And thank you most of all for your prayers! I could not ask for a better sister
!
So sorry to hear about your mom. Prayers for healing and comfort for you both.
Thank you, Angie, so very much for those prayers!