The Blessing of Christian Parents Who Live the Gospel

Called Mom & Dad yesterday afternoon at five just to say I was glad they'd married. This is something that has impressed me a lot of late. And not for the obvious reasons that if they hadn't I wouldn't be here. But I've been so much in love with what the quality of their love & union has reproduced in each of us. I thought, gleefully, the other day, that if I never married it would be OK because they did! A certain sense of fulfillment in their good marriage. I adore them both so much.

Roxbury, Connecticut 2-25-1982

Psalm 42

When I was a youth, my father insisted that I spend my chore time in the laundry room memorizing. He chose for me Psalm 42. I resented his intrusion into my selfish space. But I had to obey, however begrudgingly. Throughout my life I have blessed God for that childish exercise. I could not have known while I was rehearsing "For I used to go with the multitude; I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept a pilgrim feast" at twelve years old, ironing my brothers' shirts, what these words meant or would mean thirty and forty years of life experiences later. I come, in His providence, to the same passage in my daily reading. And today again it is a good word to me. So, remembering my father's instruction, sinner though he also was, I record his faithfulness here today. May I so guide my children.

¹ As the deer pants for the water brooks,
So pants my soul for You, O God.
² My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God?
³ My tears have been my food day and night,
While they continually say to me,
“Where is your God?”

⁴ When I remember these things,
I pour out my soul within me.
For I used to go with the multitude;
I went with them to the house of God,
With the voice of joy and praise,
With a multitude that kept a pilgrim feast.

⁵ Why are you cast down, O my soul?
And why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him
For the help of His countenance.

⁶ O my God, my soul is cast down within me;
Therefore I will remember You from the land of the Jordan,
And from the heights of Hermon,
From the Hill Mizar.
⁷ Deep calls unto deep at the noise of Your waterfalls;
All Your waves and billows have gone over me.
⁸ The LORD will command His lovingkindness in the daytime,
And in the night His song shall be with me—
A prayer to the God of my life.

⁹ I will say to God my Rock,
“Why have You forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?”
¹⁰ As with a breaking of my bones,
My enemies reproach me,
While they say to me all day long,
“Where is your God?”

¹¹ Why are you cast down, O my soul?
And why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God;
For I shall yet praise Him,
The help of my countenance and my God.

A day in the life at Prescott

Sunday night.
March 22, 2009

We watched Extreme House Makeover together. That show is a picture of God's goodness to us, but there is no acknowledgement of God. Of His providence. It really becomes the ultimate in humanistic idolatry. Yet I love the picture it is that when we get to our mansions in heaven we also will be surprised and joyful and amazed and thankful and in wonder as are the recipients of these shows. But it won't be for our incredible mansions. It will because we see the Lamb in His Beauty and understand more fully His love for us and all that He did for us. (Pastor Charlie Perkins made a great point in today's sermon about how it is impossible to understand God's glory apart from self-interest. The gospel makes no sense except that it is covenantally involving self-interest. He argued with a couple quotes of Jonathan Edwards, with trepidation, but confidence in his position.)

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, only you can save our dear ones and I pray you do.

Gloria came by while I was on the phone with Cal tonight to complain that many of their friends (?)told them that they could not reach her, and she believed it was because I was on the phone so much. Then I remembered we installed CALL WAITING, so I explained that to her. She seemed satisfied. I showed her and Kim how it works when I got off the phone with Cal, but I will be surprised if they can learn it.

While I had been on the phone earlier with Susan, Betsy Berry called and before I could take the call to Gloria, she introduced herself as one from UMC. But she seems to have a real belief in the Lord. She wanted to encourage me and thank me for what we were doing. I told her that I would so much like to recruit a large list of old church friends who would be willing to come by from time to time to help out by sitting with Gloria, or giving Kim and Gloria something else to do than watch trash tv. She seemed surprised and delighted that Kim should be taking care of Gloria.

I see this change in Kim and didn't realize what a change it really was. Betsy seemed incredulous that it could happen. But I do see it. Kim seems to be taking more responsibility for watching over her. Could it be that the Holy Spirit is changing her? Could it be that He used my example of selfless service of the past week? I would pray that it is so. (This is so cool to be writing at a computer, and such a nice one, instead of taking longer to write it out by hand!)

I heard just tidbits of arguments between K & G tonight and wonder if Kim has been on the receiving end of Gloria's dementia. As I heard her scold Kim I wondered if that might lie behind Kim's desire not to serve her, not to have her back, which, though I can't know, I intuited was the case, encouraged by Jim's comment last month that Kim was not worried about her mom dying, only about her life changing. How shall I prepare Kim for Gloria's phase of frustration and misplaced anger? How shall Kim keep it an understood secret if I do tell her? These are matters for prayer. God, give us wisdom, please.

The Lord has been so kind to me during these different weeks. Each day has been so hard in its peculiar way, but I know God's presence. I don't necessarily FEEL it, but I know it, and that is far better. Yesterday, after Gloria turned on me and "took control" of her home health care, ordering me to stay in my room (!) I went out for a number of errands. In the middle of it all I found the home of Kaaren Weber. She invited me in and I unloaded over a cup of tea. After twenty minutes she prayed for me. It was a great blessing to find her oasis in the middle of such turmoil. My stomach has been aching a lot as I face the situation here.

But perhaps that is what the enemy wants. I so didn't want to come home from church today. I steeled myself as I turned the handle of the back door. Both Kim and Gloria sang out hellos. I sat down with them for just a moment. When I said that I thought I would take a nap, Gloria heartily encouraged me. So heartily, I imagined that she really wanted me gone. And I did have a nap. A deep and restful one. When I woke, not an hour later, I felt the depth and rest that makes you want to turn over and just fall deeper into it. So I did. When I woke I listened some to Jeremy's sermon on wisdom, dreading interfacing with them. I opened my door a crack, but got nothing but Sam's bark. Eventually I realized Kim was taking one of her twice-weekly showers. Gloria had walked down the hall to see if she were okay.

Enough of the paranoia, I decided to go out and serve however I could, taking command of dinner before Gloria asked to help (we must not let her handle food until we can be assured she is no longer infectious, and only if she will submit to being reminded to wash well before preparations). I reheated the extra chicken from last night and made a salad and an hors d'oeuvre plate of broccoli and dip. Oh, how I'm longing for crunchy, green veggies! And soon I realize that all of my fear about their dislike of me or the situation is just to discourage me from doing what is right. So I do what is right, with my heart in my throat, hoping that there will be pleasantness, and God be praised, mostly there is.

Tomorrow I take Gloria to the doctor's office. Kim goes to Lionnesses. They may appreciate being apart from one another.

Thank you, Lord, for this good day. Thank you for PPC. Thank you for Gertrude and Thelma and Kaaren and Rachel and Carolyn (I really liked her!) and Mary Jane and Kay ( I also really liked her) and Ginny (and her). What a great group of people. And what a good teacher Charlie is. Thank you, thank you. You knew this was here and provided it for us. May Kilby grow here and love the congregation. Thank you for the truly biblical, reverent, edifying worship. Please, Lord, bless this congregation, bless and build this church for Your glory. Encourage them to persevere in righteousness. Thank you that the ladies of the this house retire so early and that there is more life here in this small bedroom. Please bless it to Kilby and bless her life and forgive me for giving in to fears of imprisonment and discontent. And Lord, someday soon, after a few more good lessons, bring her her husband.

A Loose Page from my journal box

Perhaps Daughtie Susan can help me pinpoint the year. The month must have been September:

Classes started today. Dana's Shurley Grammar class and Covenant College convocation. Sisi arrived at 8 to begin homeschooling with us and we'd slept in and were not quite ready. But doggedly plunged in, doing what we could. Explained to the children how long it takes a ship to turn at sea amd hoped they would understand --especially Sisi--that each day this week would not reflect what our days ought to be. It will take time to get curriculum and shelves sorted out. But yesterday we got farther than I could have guessed we could. Joe Thacker and Bryan Walker came for spaghetti before they helped Cal and David move the church organ. While they were gone, Susan and I worked to get the living room stripped and washed. Then Joe and Bryan stayed till after 10 helping us reorganize the furniture--finally working out a good solution by moving out the Andreves' bookcase. Went to bed with living room and dining room a mess. But by mid-morning today everyone was working quietly and both rooms were clean and organized. Today I played an animal identification game with the little kids while Dana taught. Am considering teaching the little kids alphabet and phonics during grammar class if I can pick up from kids what they're learning from Dana. More to write but Cal's come to bed.

Karen Adele Wilson Bartell 1953-1973

This morning I thought of how the Lord must have come to me the bright summer afternoon on which I learned, at nineteen years of age, that my best soul friend who was now married and living in Canada and expecting her first child had died from a monoxide leak into their car which poisoned her while she napped as they drove to their mission site. I had gotten a call on a Sunday afternoon from an old friend from an old church to tell me about it. I flung myself across my mother's bed to cry out my heart. And the very sure knowledge flooded my soul, indeed the beginning of my strong faith in the Sovereignty of God: this is too tragic to be only an accident. God took her for His reasons and He is good.

The memory now is a comfort to remind me of how He has been with me through these many years. And though I don't always feel the fresh awareness of His presence now, may I realize that maybe it is so familiar to me that I don't feel anything. What would I feel if He were really not with me?! May I follow Him with my cross. May I believe that He says always "Come". And may I answer just as often "come!".

T.M.I.

Did I ever tell you about the time I found Kilby and Becky (at six and four years of age) playing having a baby? They had (imprudently on our parts) just viewed a childbirth video with us (I was pregnant with AJ) and I thought the house was much too quiet. I saw tissues all over the living room floor. I walked upstairs and saw their door closed, which was against my rules. I called to them and asked what they were doing, and they said they were playing "[name of woman in the video which I now can't remember]". Suspicious, I asked, "Do you have your underpants on?" "No..." "Well, put them back on now." Then I heard Kilby say to Becky: "It's okay, Becky, we'll just pretend you have a blue [color of underpants] bottom."

Notes from Greenville

Rising early at the hour You wake me is what I want to do--only give me grace to wait on You & to spend time in prayer. Give me wisdom to pray for those things which would make me anxious; for humility for my husband whom You use as well as for strength & wisdom for him & not only for his work as spokesman & pastor, but even more for his work in pastoring the family You have given us. I also would pray for the families You will make of our family. Give me due diligence & wisdom to make these things a matter of prayer & give me wisdom to guide my children in this area, both sons & daughters. In this please make me a good helper to Cal. I would also pray for grace to so order our lives that much time would be given to mature reformed study. Make me & my children as useful as you have made Cal. Give my daughters patience, maturity, & diligence as they serve our family in waiting for their own homes. Please make them pleased to live with us & serve You through our home. Please guide us as we guide our sons into sound education. And I also pray that you would call all three of them into the ministry of the Word. Please help me reorder our home when we return from this conference. Thank You.

Read some of O.P. Robertson's The Final Word in the waiting room of Dr. Delacruz. Especially appreciated the practicality of this statement:

". . . a new appreciation of the wonders of God's working in every day providences will be perceived more clearly. People who are looking for the spectacular or the extraordinary become distracted so that they do not always see how great is the way God orders ordinary processes to meet the needs of his people. . ." (p. 132)

And then I was too tired to read much more. I put the book away and began to pray until weariness & distraction quickly ended that. I did not know what time it had gotten to be, nor what time Cal would be out of his class. But it occurred to me to try and call him at his office on my cell phone to tell him I loved him and goodbye before he went to catch a plane for DC (he attends an ISA reception tomorrow). He answered. He had just called home to say goodbye to me, leaving a message with Kilby. He was just leaving for the airport. He thought by my call that I had just returned home. I explained my situation. After a brief conversation of love I turned off the phone. Then I thought of God's providence and His blessing in putting Cal and me together just now. Father, help me to see ever more clearly your great and infinite kindnesses in all your gracious acts of kindness permeating my life. This indeed should give me a spirit of thanksgiving. It should also give me much reassurance of Your precious presence with me always. Perhaps that is the real point of my pre-Hurricane Wilma dream in which I spent the entire night in dreams of preparing for impending storms, even in spite of fervent prayer during the wakeful periods that God would remove the fearful dreams from me. It is a provident & loving God who gave me those dreams, denying my plea, keeping me safe in spite of my fear during the wee hours of Wilma's approach, causing me to consider the next evening that the dreams had been meant to remind me of His very specific & indulgent (?) providence.

Everywhere, three weeks later, looks like "chastisement" to me. So many very old, "permanent," once-beautiful trees are broken, shattered, ruined. The brush piles are being removed & folks get reimbursed by insurance companies for debris removal. The traffic lights & twisted or non-existent road signs will eventually be replaced. The morning traffic--rather, all traffic, is much worse--a result of an influx of workers to repair the storm's damage. Our internet will come back soon, we hope, we have even prayed. But I believe the signs of God's power, those signs that look like wrath, will be visible for months. But summer & winter, springtime & harvest will go on to remind us of God's faithfulness.

(Internet returned 11-16 p.m.)

April 16 & 17

I need to tell you about the last day before I tell it too many times and it begins to morph.







The kids and I just returned from a delicious cool Florida partly sunny day at Tree Tops Park. We picked up the little Thompson kids and mom and were met by Miss Irene who brought a huge bunch of cold cuts etc. from the grocery store. We played and hiked and goofed off. I took lots of pictures of trees and kids.

I wrote you about Dad's fall on Saturday. I learned in the car this afternoon from Peter that as I left for Home Depot (just before Dad's fall) Michael had called. Peter overheard the conversation and said that he had not heard Grandpa enjoy such a lucid conversation in a long time. I am glad to learn of his last conversation with Mike.

When he fell he was at his bathroom sink wanting to comb his hair. His hand can't even reach to his head to do this task. As Dad wants to do what he wants to do Peter left him a few moments to put some clothes away. Then Dad fell straight backward and landed his head on the corner of the portable feeding table base, cutting it on the metal corner. Kilby heard and called out for Cal who came running to help Peter.

Cal tried to stand Dad up the way they always worked it before. But since the fall he has never been able to put his feet on the ground. As soon as his legs would be straightened out, his feet would cross and it was nearly impossible to get them apart. Finally Cal had to pick him up around the chest and lift his long body off the floor and carry him to the bed. They called me on the cell phone to tell me to bring home butterfly closures. When I arrived I found Dad on his tummy, his face squashed in a puddle of moisture on the sheet under him, Cal standing by his side with an ice pack on top of a gauze patch, applying gentle pressure, to keep the blood from flowing and the goose egg from growing. When we pulled the ice pack and gauze away, the cut was still slowly bleeding and we didn't think we could apply the bandages yet.

I cleaned up some of the streaks of blood from his hair and face. He was alert and, I suppose, miserable; occasionally trying to get at his cut with his hand. Peter was assisting. We finally decided to call hospice nurse to see if they could send some sort of help. We were informed that once a patient falls, the hospice nurse must come out to assess the situation. That was a relief--just having someone else to help. Perhaps she would be able to help me change his pants, too. Now that he was in bed to stay for awhile, but with a head injury, I didn't know how I was going to manage.

I took over the ice pack holding to release Cal to work on the exam he was supposed to be writing for a class he is taking at the seminary, due on Monday. We also had a painter in the house, supposedly completing a painting job he was supposed to have finished a week ago. He ended up leaving the job undone without saying goodbye. Things were a little confused.

We continued watching the videotape of Mom's memorial service with old movies appended while we waited over an hour for the nurse to arrive. I had given Dad a sedative shortly after I had arrived home, along with two tylenol. He was mostly quiet and cooperative. He glanced over at the video from time to time.

When Kim, the emergency-care hospice nurse arrived she quickly cleaned and dressed and closed the wound, agreeing with our decision not to transport Dad to the emergency room. She changed him and helped me get him comfortable after assessing his injuries. She was pretty sure he had not broken anything though he was complaining bitterly of pain in his right thigh. She decided he should have continuous care for at least 24 hours, but offered an in-home x-ray to see if he'd broken anything. She spoke with Michael and he suggested we wait 24 hours and then see what was going on. She ordered him an Rx of tylenol with codeine for pain.

Kim was in the dining room, writing up her reports, and I went up to watch over Dad, relieving Peter of the duty. Dad was trying to get out of bed. So I helped him to help himself. He was not getting very far, but I wasn't stopping him. Kim came up and helped move him to his chair. He was not able to walk and we had to carry him between ourselves. I already wrote you about this and his momentary passing out. Perhaps it was pain.

He stayed in his chair all evening. I took him a supper tray of a turkey/cheese/rice casserole we'd had for dinner. He ate a little, mostly played with his food, shifting it around in different piles on his plate like a toddler who doesn't want to eat. Sometimes falling asleep with his fork in his hand and on the plate. When the first continuous care nurse, Portia Grant, came at 8 p.m. he was still working on it. She tried to feed him a little. Then she tried to transfer him to the bed herself and had to call me back (we were finishing devotions). We worked at it together, but while she was setting him up for changing him in bed, we discovered his mouth was full of food. We cleared it out and eventually he figured out our intent and helped by spitting the rest out into a basin.

I sat with Dad and Portia until about 10:30 when Cal came to invite me to a private viewing of "Shall We Dance" (Japanese movie with English subtitles made in 1996) in our room. We went to bed after midnight. I couldn't sleep. I lay there struggling with thoughts.

One of those that came to me quite suddenly and clearly, and has since been corroborated by things the nurses have said, was that Dad might have fallen because he was dying. Through the evening I had figured that he might now die because of the fall. Perhaps he had a small stroke standing there at the sink. That would explain why he could no longer stand. And the internal bleeding that we later discovered might have been his body breaking down before he even fell. These are God's secrets and we are content with that.

By 2:30 a.m. I felt compelled to visit Dad. Portia looked as if she had just nodded off. But it was clear she'd been busy with him. She reported that she thought he was declining. He was breathing harder and harder, more and more liquidy. His lungs were clear. I wondered if it were the phlegm he constantly has; his weakness keeping him from getting it out. Perhaps he also was coming down with the cold we'd had this past week.

I read Psalm 23. Then Psalm 27. Portia quoted the first verse along with me. I learned that she and her 6 siblings were raised by Bible-believing parents from Jamaica. Verse 12 says "Give me not up to the will of my adversaries; for false witnesses have risen against me, and they breathe out violence." When I finished this wonderful Psalm I suggested to Dad who was walking through the valley of the shadow of death (and rememeber, Dad, it is only the SHADOW of death!) that perhaps his way was lined with adversaries who were standing ready to accuse him of all his sin. So I read to him the glorious chapter of Romans 8. "There is now therefore no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus....Nothing...not death...can separate us from the Love of God."

I read to him Psalm 25. (Please read it.) Verse 20ff: Oh, guard my soul, and deliver me! Let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in you. May integrity and uprightness preserve me, for I wait for you. Redeem Israel, O God, out of all his troubles. " I told Portia that my father had been known as a man of integrity. "But, Portia, not all his integrity could bring him before our Holy God. Because of his sin." Portia assented. I reminded Dad and Portia that Dad would stand before God in Christ's righteousness and that was his only hope. (And what a Hope!)

After 45 minutes I left to make a cup of tea for myself. I returned to our dark bedroom where Cal was fast asleep and sat in the rocker and sipped the tea and made a case to God out of His character of mercy that He should take Dad home quickly. Not demanding. Not expecting. Just wanting. And submitted to His will.

I climbed back in bed but could not sleep. I played with a star that was slowly moving out of sight between the newly hung blinds in our room. (For those of you who don't know, we began a renovation of the Master suite two weeks ago. Our bed is now in the alcove where Cal's desk used to be and it is SO pleasant there to see the sky and the trees from our bed!) Every so often I would shift quietly in bed. I was sore with tension and cold (we've had deliciously cool weather) and couldn't get comfortable. Eventually I must have slept because though I had those kind of dreams where you think you're still awake, when I finally got up at dawn I realized the dream I'd just come out of was incredibly silly. I had lain awake figuring I would not try to go to church. And Cal agreed when he learned how little I'd slept.

But I seemed energized. So I moved in a direction to go to Sunday school and church with the family. As soon as I'd finished dressing, the nurse knocked on my door. She needed help turning Dad to change him. She told me that she thought he was declining rapidly. Told me about his vomiting dark coffee colored brown, which was a sign of internal bleeding and probably not the chocolate milkshake I supposed. She also showed me that his stomach seemed hard, another sign. Dad was already breathing harder.

Now I didn't know what to do. Stay home or go? I'd wait and see how things developed. I helped the kids get ready for church. Kilby looked awful and told me she would like to stay home from Sunday school for feeling so poorly. Okay. We'd wait and see about going to church later in the second car. She and I stayed home.

Some of us were down in the kitchen and dining room, getting ready for Sunday dinner when the second nurse arrived. Janet Schneider was "ancient" (as Susan mouthed to me when she saw her) and thin, but a more competent, knowledgeable, gentle nurse I have never met. Of course we didn't know Dad was really dying, but she was certainly hand-picked by God for caring for Dad at the end. She began taking notes in a little notebook from what Portia and I told her. As Portia left, I invited her to our Bible study on Friday nights and she was delighted. If she is not on call that night, she hopes to attend. It was clear to me that the Lord moved her as she witnessed our faith. Janet quietly set about to clean Dad's head wound.

Susan was coming out of her bedroom, dressed in Marilee's old navy strawberry skirt and red sweaters and carrying her music, I saw her catch a glimpse of Grandpa laboring in bed. She was visibly upset. I asked her if she would like to say goodbye to him. I didn't know he was going to die, but if there was the possibility, I didn't want her to walk away from him and never talk to him again. Tears sprung to her eyes and she had a short battle with herself about doing it. I could see she wanted to flee, but knew she should go to him. She did, giving him a kiss on his still-handsome forehead. She came out in tears. That prompted me to send AJ and Peter in as well.

When the last of them had walked out the door for Sunday school, I saw Kilby had taken a perch at his bedside and was reading her poem. I went to sit across from her and listen. Janet asked if we'd like her to leave, and we invited her to stay. Both Kilby and I were crying, trying to regain composure. It occurred to me to run for my camera for a photo of this beautiful girl doing this last act of kindness. (I think of the chess game she played with him when he first came to visit us here. I have a wonderful photo of it somewhere.) Then Kilby and I sang to him duets of It Is Well with My Soul, Not What My Hands Have Done, To You, Lord, I Fly, and Abide with Me. God granted us as much composure as we needed to make our way through these wonderful lyrics. I sang them boldly proclaiming the gospel to the demons and the hospice nurse alike. Kilby left to fix her makeup. As I began to read John 14 to Dad, he squeezed my hand. Then Psalm 91. I asked Dad if he wanted anything. Did he want some water? No. Did he want some ice chips? No. What do you want, Dad? You.

After a nice conversation with Janet about homeschooling--she was impressed with the kids and asked all sorts of questions about our lives--we left for church. Kilby drove. She's a very good driver. It was nice to relax in the car. I told her about the movie Cal and I had watched.
She dropped me off at the door and parked the car. We entered as they were singing Praise to the Lord, The Almighty. During the congregational prayer, Pastor Addison Soltau (wheaton class of 49?) prayed for Daddy and us. With two cars, Cal and I drove home separately from the kids, talking about changes ahead, wondering how Dad was doing. The day was like today, cool, breezy, lots of clouds scudding across a blue and sunny sky. The kind of day you live in Florida for.

As we climbed the stairs we could hear a noisy death rattle breathing accompanied by Dad's constant moans. I entered the room and saw Janet beginning to change him by herself, her back brace in place to aide her. She reported that he had been crying out earlier "Please, God, please, God, please God..." I added my hands to Dad's back to hold him up for her. Since I was close to his ear I said clearly: I love you, Dad. That is when he said, clearly enough for me to understand, and certainly demonstrating lucidity: "Keep outta this". It was a blessing from God and Dad to me at the end. It has instantly bloomed into a large and gracious benediction to me, retold with laughter now a dozen times. Actually, I was thankful for the release from the room. The death rattle was horrible to behold and I was too weak to endure it. I had whispered to Janet "I can't stay here and hear this. But I'll be happy to be with him at the end if you'll tell me." She told me she thought it could be any time. I left anyway to write you all. And as I was composing the send off sentence that he might be dying soon, she came to tell me that he had just died. I rewrote the sentence later but at that moment followed her back to his room to see Dad's body without his soul in it. I squeezed his hand. I don't remember, maybe I kissed his forehead. Then I began to cry, deep sobs firstly of grief, then of relief, then of joy. They sounded all the same to the nurse, I'm sure, but I knew the difference. She came over and hugged me. I asked her to get Cal because I could not leave. Cal came. We stayed another couple minutes at his side. I called Michael. Then I called Dave who promised to call the rest of you. Then began the detail work. Dad's body was removed an hour and a half later. The nurse had cleaned him up and put a fresh shirt on him--the Florida shirt I bought him a couple years ago.

Figuring that Dad would have wanted it, we proceeded to have our usual weekly feast, celebrating the rest that God had at the beginning after creation, signifying the rest that we shall have when we have followed Dad. We had a very nice chardonnay to accompany a perfectly roasted-on-the-grill pork loin with rosemary. We had a couple hours of great fun laughing and telling dear Grandpa stories (like the time he came down for devotions with shaving cream on half his face, insisting on staying by answering Cal's question that it would take him two hours to finish shaving. Man! Was that ever a long time ago) until it was time to go back to evening church where we heard a wonderful sermon on humbling ourselves, submitting to God, drawing near to Him, and His drawing near to us.

We called several of you when we got home. We went to bed. It is odd to think of him not here. It is wonderful to think of him with the Lord. We will take the next few weeks as they come, trusting the Lord to continue His wonderful guidance.

1 Praise the LORD , O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. 2 Praise the LORD , O my soul, and forget not all his benefits- 3 who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, 4 who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, 5 who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.









Dear Family--
Kilby wrote the below poem several years ago for Grandpa, and today read it aloud to him before going to church as he lay gurgling on his bed. Then she and I sang a few hymns to him -- Abide with Me being the last. After we all came home from church, Grandpa went to be with the Lord at ten minutes till two.
- - -
Long way down the winding years,
summer droughts have dried
what once had been a laughing stream
rushing down the riverbed.
If we follow where once ran
waters strong and deep,
might we come to a softer place,
not so hard and stony
where, after bends and breaks and falls,
the widened mouth would open
and engulf a seeping flood
from the backwash of the ocean?
Old river, cracked and dry,
does your spirit hover
above the water, like the mists,
drawn by morning sun?
Old hands, now cracked and dry,
worn with tender love,
could you gain some feeble strength
if another held you?
What once was a young stream
tumbling down a chasm,
further down its sandy bed
grew into a river.
But life’s toils and hard’ning fate
dried the water up,
baring depths before concealed –
the heart of that deep river.
Laughter no more rings out loud,
nor do tears more flow,
but a lonely, haunting wight
will moan along the riverbed.
Old river, cracked and dry,
does your spirit hover
above the water, like the mists,
drawn by morning sun?
Old hands, now cracked and dry,
worn with tender love,
could you gain some feeble strength
if another held you?
Winding down along the bed,
Time has wandered sadly,
looking for old memories
and bright hopes now faded,
calling friends now long departed,
finding but despair,
looking to the heav’ns for rain,
finding but the sun.
Wearied, dried, the river’s course
fin’lly sights the ocean
far away, clothed in a fog
eluding its poor seeker.
Old river, cracked and dry,
does your spirit hover
above the water, like the mists,
drawn by morning sun?
Old hands, now cracked and dry,
worn with tender love,
could you gain some feeble strength
if another held you?
See, we now have come upon
a joining at the sea-coast,
runs the path of the riverbed
to the wide, wide waters.
But that ocean can’t refresh
the old and wightish river,
for its moisture only mocks
the panting riverbed.
All along, the pebbles stumble
down the riverbed,
just to stop before the water
that the ocean holds.
Old river, cracked and dry,
does your spirit hover
above the water, like the mists,
drawn by morning sun?
Old hands, now cracked and dry,
worn with tender love,
could you gain some feeble strength
if another held you?

On the mountains, high as heaven,
cold and bright and young,
there’s some water, drifted there
by a chilling wind.
Once lifted from a rushing stream,
and borne into the air,
the child of the riverbed
lies asleep above.
Spring’s fresh warming, waking breeze,
along with the gaze of the sun,
will touch the young, white bridal child
and send it, playing, down.
Old river, cracked and dry,
does your spirit hover
above the water, like the mists,
drawn by morning sun?
Old hands, now cracked and dry,
worn with tender love,
could you gain some feeble strength
if another held you?
Down along the riverbed,
so cracked and dry and withered,
she can sweep the wearied stones,
down toward the ocean.
She can wake the dormant dreams,
and renew sweet mem’ries.
She can bear the jeweled pebbles
to the oceans breast.
She can put to rest that wight
that moans for friends departed.
She can soothe the cracked, dry heart
of her father river.
Old river, young again,
see where your child hovers –
her laughter brings back years gone by,
lightens all your trouble.
Old hands, so cracked and dry,
accept the tender love
the hands you washed and held and kissed
now give you, not unwilling.

Long way down the winding years,
at the river’s end,
a splash of life in the riverbed
eases the river’s passing.
(www.kilbyspoetry.blogspot.com)

Dad fell this afternoon and got a 2" gash and a goose-egg in the back of his head. The cut was superficial and is stitched up with three butterfly closures. He's sitting over a chocolate milkshake in his chair with a bag of ice on his head. He has visited by phone with Sarah, with Dave who called just after it happened and prayed for him, and Laurie. Before the nurse left an hour and a half after she came, he wanted to get up out of bed. We helped him help himself but after all he couldn't stand and we dragged him to his chair. For a moment it was kind of scary cause his eyes got that far away passing out kind of look I've seen in Becky's epilepsy. But after the nurse called his name, he responded a moment, and then passed into a nice hour long nap which was sorely needed. He hadn't slept since this morning and he is sleeping much of the time now.

The nurse has put him on continuous nursing care which means a nurse comes to spend the night in his room and another one takes over tomorrow for the first 24 hours. Then he'll have a night nurse and a day aide until he passes into "he's okay" stage. I assume it will be soon.

I watched part of Mom's memorial service videotape this morning with Dad. Grace and AJ enjoyed seeing the pictures for the first time in their memory. Dad slept through much of it. Oh, he's miserable. I keep reminding him of the glory to come. Not sure he understands. Please pray for me. It is hard to watch him die.

Oh, by the way, several of us have bad throats and sneezy colds. Dad was complaining of his throat hurting this morning and his throat is red. Last night when I said goodnight to him I thought how yellow and gray his skin is looking. I came to bed sobered to think that perhaps I will watch a slow decline/disintegration. That will be hard. I pray God takes him quickly.

Cal's just come with hors d'ouvres and wine someone brought us last night.

Chicken Pox, Part 1

February 20, 2004

Escaped to deliver clothes to Finns & to do the grocery shopping at Doris' Italian Market where I bought myself crab salad & garlic roasted asparagus & a bottle of ginger ale for a lunch. I encountered Heather & her mother walking home from their nearby church with the children--coming from Colleen's dayschool presumably. They made a big deal about how I had escaped. I told them I could handle Grace's dreadful chicken pox & even the glass I found in Grandpa's closet that had evaporated & molding urine crystals--but I couldn't take any more of the children's complaining, disappointed attitudes about being quarantined.


It was nice to get out for "fresh air" after the last two days. Cal & I had a lovely Monday together wandering our way home across western Florida, finding the lovely parkway (19?) coming out of Tallahassee (he finished reading Adam's book on Sonship to me while I drove), coming close enough at lunchtime to the coast at Yankeetown to make a quick excursion to see the Gulf of Mexico, driving at dusk through orange groves of Central Florida, arriving home by 8:10 & supper with the family. Grace was extra clingy & didn't feel like finishing her meal. We stayed up too late & we were so tired!


Then Tuesday, Cal & Susan & David all away, I got back into schoolwork with the kids. But Grace didn't feel well, nor did I, nor did the other children look well. By afternoon class Grace was sleeping on the floor. I think her first pox came out Tuesday night but they were so small & scattered it didn't occur to me that they were chicken pox. Wednesday a.m. there were more & I grew suspicious. Went out for coffee with Pam & by the time I got back she was breaking out more & more. We began oatmeal baths & benadryl. She's maintained a low grade fever. Thursday everything just go worse. And I was physically exhausted. Spend the afternoon with only Grace & Grandpa in the house--Pam took Becky, Peter, & AJ & fed them supper. Nonnie came home & figured out by the notes Pam left me in the kitchen that I stood in the way of help. She finished the laundry & fixed the leftovers supper for us. I ate upstairs with Grace. We went to sleep early last night & slept long. But from 8 am. I was caring for Grace & cleaning, etc. David is gone to Chattanooga for interviews for college scholarship money.