Memories

It’s been a very rich morning thinking about people. Like hide and seek, marco-polo, follow the leader, and a myriad of other childhood games, one thought leads to another, and I feel I’ve been on a wonderful adventure of memories. Camping, sight-seeing, thrift-shopping, hiking, rafting, sailing, bird-watching, soul-ravishing concerts, discussing great books, hugging, smiling, remembering. I guess I’d better step off this long memory lane, or we’ll be here all day, which wouldn’t be a disconsolate proposition after all! Hundreds of you have played a role in these memories, and I want you to know that I appreciate you.

Isn’t it interesting how memories build? Time after time, we’ll climb Pilate Mountain, always expecting to do it again. Then, suddenly, it becomes obvious that we’ve done it for the last time in this life. Odd! During the quiet days of suffering in the hospital, followed by more quiet days of trying to regain lost strength since returning home, it has become obvious that entering Hospice when we did was exactly the right decision. It’s been a beautiful revelation this morning that I can continue a highly active and enjoyable life in the mind, but my hiking boots may have experienced their final accumulation of high-mountain dust. And that’s okay.

I’d surely love to see my church friends this morning, and our neighbors this afternoon, and my treasured work colleagues tomorrow, but these are not part of the strategic bundle of decision making. Tomorrow we need to decide whether I’ll have enough strength to travel north on Tuesday. If that’s a go, then we’ll need to carefully watch every minute of strength in order to fully live every aspect of the wedding weekend. And then—maybe hardest of all—we’ll need to travel back to North Carolina alone and find God’s perfect path for the remaining weeks or months of our life together. No one is making any predictions, but things are unpredictable, to be sure. Thank you for praying with us along this journey!

I’ve written this not to be pessimistic, but rather to be optimistic. When Chuck and I began our life together almost 49 years ago, we couldn’t possibly have pre-written the wonderful history that lay ahead for us. But God knew! He knows the perfect plan that will unfold over the coming two weeks—but we can’t see even one minute of it. I feel safe with things this way. There’s a sweet rhyme that says, “The best is yet to be.” Regardless of what is “yet to be” in this year or decade or century, please give God space and time to prove that His best is stunningly beautiful for ever and ever.

So today will be a day for resting. We’ll continue to keep you updated as plans unfold. I appreciate all Chuck’s help with the blog these days.

I have no way of knowing whether my mind has suffered permanent damage, or if words will begin to flow again. I certainly hope they do. And I do know that whatever God does, He does well.

Love,
Carol