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We have been voluntarily imprisoned in our home by this terrible disease called cancer. Four weeks ago my mom & dad moved in & hospice became a household name as we are caring for my 65 year old mother who is living out her final days with us. Because of the type of cancer she has we have to have eyes on her 24 hrs due to frequent vomiting.
So tonight, while watching her I looked out the window and saw a beautiful snowfall. I seized the moment, let Steve watch mom and ran outside with camera in hand. In the cool of the wintry night I snapped a few shots of our herbal garden under a blanket of fresh fallen snow and I was refreshed. Amidst the dead of winter, I breathed in the promise of the hope of spring as the ground received moisture to grow what was to come.
Oh God, my Father, in this winter of my life, give the promise of things to come, the hope of things that will grow from this dark time.--Evelyn C. Sherwood
At the time of this entry Nell still holds on to life, barely. Her breathing is extremely shallow. The last few times she communicated anything it was pain and a crying out for her mother. We wait.
The following was written by Evelyn, Nell's wonderful daughter, my marvelous wife on December 28, 2008. Evelyn has been the main caregiver now for these 28 days that Nell has been in our home.
Tonight I watched the sun set. The hues of orange, pink, purple & red were brilliantly splattered across the sky in a breathtaking display.
How interesting that sunrises & sunsets share such brilliant colors, announcing their arrival.
Such is life & death. One is ushered in, another out, yet both are brilliantly controlled by the hand of the master artist - God.
Sometime I fear the dark, but without the dark do we really appreciate the light? In heaven I know we will, but in our feeble earthly frames we must have the struggles to see the blessing of His hand walking us through.
When will the sun set on my mother's earthly life? Only God knows, but with the dark, will come light again... and for that I wait.
We are taking care of my Mom Steffes, Nell in our home. She has terminal stomach cancer and she is in her final days. It is probably the single most difficult thing I have ever had to watch in my life. Though modern medicine keeps her pain at bay, she is unable to eat or drink anything and keep it down. She has had no nourishment for weeks.
People in our church and community have been wonderful. God has given little blessings all along the way. Those are the things that keep us going.
We rejoice in His goodness and in the fact that she will soon be in His presence. She is ready for that to happen and we all wonder what God's plan is in her tarrying here on this earth.
In a moment when she was anxious yesterday her husband came to her side and started encouraging her with scriptures and talk of heaven. After a few minutes of this she looked up at him and said, "You are wearing me out." Being a preacher, he jokingly asked her, "Do you think that's the way the people in the congregation feel when I'm preaching?" She said, "Yes. That is the lesson you were suppose to learn. That's why I'm still here."
That was a moment of great laughter.
I just got called out to help for a few moments. The hospice nurse just okay ed the increase of her medication to every 3 hours. This is going to be harder on Evelyn. She is doing most of the meds herself. This means less sleep for Evelyn. Mom doesn't want anyone else giving her the meds. She is also wanting Dad at her side most of the time now. We are all tired, longing, waiting, wondering...
We sang Isa 40:31 But those who wait on the LORD Shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint.
We hold to the hope of His promises.
