God moves on earth and in heaven

Again I want to thank everyone for the outpouring of love, support and compassion. It’s showing me that even though my relationship with Grandma can’t be replaced (nor do I want it to be), God is a Good Father who will fill the emptiness with other relationships to saturate my grieving soul with His love. God is moving through you. Thank you for accepting the call. 

I hesitate to call anyone out for fear of forgetting someone; but I do feel compelled to thank the ICU nurses for the exceptional care they provided (for Grandma and the rest of our family). To Abby, Greg, Cameron and Stephanie, thank you for your kindness, gentleness and compassion. You’re providing whole person care, whether your hospital calls it that or not. You went the extra mile, adjusting Grandma’s pillow when her head looked uncomfortable, respecting her dignity by always keeping her body clean and covered up, and bringing us carts of food and beverages to refresh our exhausted bodies. To Dr. Debbie, the neurologist, who made a special connection with Mom from day one, thank you for making my mom feel safe in the most anxious of states. You have a divine gift to care for families in terminal cases. 

It goes without saying that Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord has been our Rock through this rollercoaster ride. It’s beautiful seeing my family draw even closer to Him and each other during difficult times. I can honestly say the experience, however horrible, has nourished me. God has orchestrated some amazing signs to tell me, “It’s going to be OK.” I already told you one story but I’d like to tell you one more. 

A little background: The song “Good Good Father” has always been my anthem, so to speak. It has continued to serve as divine comfort throughout my grandma’s stay in the ICU. My mom shares a love for this song as well. I’ve got a Pandora station created around it to customize for similar worship-style music. It’s my go-to music station, no matter my circumstances. 

It was 8:45 a.m. My dad called to tell me the neurologist was removing the tube from Grandma’s brain. I showered, drove to the hospital — accidentally running a red light in the process — and arrived scattered but unscathed. (Praise God.) Grandma was in her bed with the full oxygen mask around her nose and mouth. She still had the feeding tube in her nose, which looked uncomfortable. My mom, dad and I circled her bed and held her hands for several hours. It was horrible and yet, I was thankful to be there. We reminisced, listened to music (Pandora) and read scripture. I also read every memory folks posted on Facebook. Be assured, Grandma heard your kind words. What a gift that was — thank you! 

It was late morning and other family members began to arrive. The nurse removed the feeding tube to make Grandma more comfortable. After inviting us back in, she closed the curtain to give us privacy. It wasn’t long before we had 12 people crammed in that small ICU room. The nurse peeked in and said, “Wow, big crowd.” “Yup!” we said, acknowledging the blessing of family. Soon a cart of water, coffee, carrots and cookies arrived. My eyes shot to the water and I snagged one of the bottles, not realizing how thirsty I was. 

The time had come to remove the oxygen that was keeping Grandma alive. The nurse asked if we were ready. We hesitantly nodded yes. 

The next few hours were filled with tears, praying, hugs, stories, laughing, then another round of each. It was beautiful and it was horrible. Grandma’s breathing labored and we did our best to comfort her, reassuring “We’ll be OK.” 

The chaplain arrived and we circled to hold hands in prayer. Nurse Stephanie stood slightly behind me and I welcomed her into our prayer circle as I grabbed her hand. She smiled and said, “Thank you. I love being part of this.” We held hands as the chaplain prayed. Hands still grasped tightly, we prayed the Lord’s Prayer — all 14 of us. 

I put music on once again and we continued comforting Grandma. More hugging. More crying. More stories. That room was so filled with the Power of God, I’m surprised Grandma didn’t rise up as Lazarus! (Believe me, we prayed for it  — half jokingly.) 

Grandma’s breathing slowed and our tears flowed. Goodbyes and laments of “Christ have mercy,” “the Blood of Jesus” and “Prince of Peace” could be heard overflowing from behind the curtain. Several family members crouched down whispering loving words in her ears. Hands outreached to Grandma’s spirit, rising above us en route for Home. 

Then as Grandma took her last breath, the song “Good Good Father” began playing in the background. 

My mom and I looked at each other and sobbed. We knew from that moment that we were going to be OK. Our knees buckled as we embraced each other. My dad held us up. That was another God moment at its finest, orchestrated perfectly as Grandma’s beautiful Spirit left us to be with our Good Father. 

So here I sit. Writing to heal. Reflecting in sadness but celebrating in JOY. Yes, there will be tears — sadness too. And there will be restless nights. But you know what? We have a Good Father to help with that. And I’ll rest assured knowing I’ve got one more angel up above. 

Because God moves on earth and in Heaven.

Watch over me, Beautiful girl.+