Saturday, September 20, 2008


It has been a quiet Saturday. The day began with a phone call from an old college girlfriend, Mary Beth. We chatted and caught up on each others' lives for over an hour. It was wonderful, really, and didn't feel at all like fifteen years has gone by since our last real conversation. We talked about my mother-in-law and her mother-in-law, both of whom died of cancer last year. She spoke of hers with the same love and respect as I speak of mine. In fact, we had to change topics after a bit, as both of us were getting teary and had many more subjects we wanted to cover.

Much of the rest of the day was spent cleaning house--not exactly my idea of a good time, but entirely necessary. The chaos was starting to win. The kids and I attacked with full-force and it is retreating in response to our aggressive advances.

Then, this afternoons, I got a call from another old and dear friend, Sharla. Her mother died today. Sharla's mom was another one of those wonderful Godly women that you just want to be with, that you just want to someday be like. Her death is an unexpected passing, and is a huge blow to the family.

After listening to Sharla, crying with her and praying with her on the phone, I tried to just come into the house and prepare dinner for my family. But I stood in the kitchen and stared at the cupboards and the refrigerator with blurry eyes. Nothing made any sense. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut and all the wind had been knocked out of me. I felt like I needed to go lay down. I felt exhausted and numb, as if the loss was my own family's, all over again.

Andy saved the day, or at least the dinner, by pointing out some leftovers that could easily be heated up for us to eat. The family didn't go hungry.

I wish I could go be with Sharla in Vancouver, where her family has gathered, but there is no way I could. The first class of Andy's woodworking school begins next Monday, the 29th and we have much to do before then, plus, we can't afford the travel right now even if I did have the time.

Oh, God, my friend is hurt. Please hold her and her family, and her father, who has just lost his best friend. Please.

1 comment:

alison said...

I'm sorry, Sherry. It is very heavy carrying others grief when your arms are still so full of your own.