The Breath of Life

Death never knocks. He just enters.

When my mother died of Sepsis over thirty years ago, I only had time to pray, "God's will be done." Eight weeks later as my father lay dying of a broken heart I cried my prayers to the Lord asking for help and guidance for his soul. I knew he was lost and lonely without my mother. 

In that same decade, my former mother-in-law, Rose Rains, nearly lost her husband, Don, to a heart attack while they lived in their home on Grand Lake.  Shortly after big Don survived this terrifying moment I visited with Rose.  Till the day, I die I will hear her voice retelling the time when she rushed her husband from Grand Lake to the Miami Baptist Hospital.

Rose's voice often became high pitched when she felt frantic or upset. I can imagine the sound of her voice as she drove and cried, "Don, don't you dare die on me.  Please don't you die. Don't you dare die Don." I often wonder how many times she prayed those words and cried them out loud. 

Sometimes the Angels step in and save a person's life.

Don didn't die that night and they lived to enjoy a few more warm and cozy years on Grand Lake together, but those words never left my heart. 

Death never knocks. He just enters...

Recently, I rushed my husband to ER one Saturday night. He had fallen on a boulder a few days earlier (while trying to retrieve a lost golf ball) and bruised his left side. Bruised and broken do not carry the same definition. Three days later the ER doctor explained how lucky Jack was to not  have punctured his lungs or spleen with those two broken ribs!

The doctor's last words were "Take it easy, Rest and heal." He might have added that coughing can hurt, but Jack learned that on his own when his allergies kicked in with this Oklahoma wind. Two days of coughing and Jack felt worse. On Thursday his family doctor said, "This looks really bad. We need to run a CT scan." Really bad is best described as black and blue bruises from his armpit to his back bone around to his chest and down his front and back. By Thursday he looked like he was carrying a five pound ball on his left side, and his ribs were pounding with messages like "You need help." By Friday when the CT scan was complete he looked and felt looked like life was draining away, and now the ribs were threatening his life and still we stayed home. At seven o'clock the doctor called us back with the results and said that his lungs were filling with fluid and he had six broken ribs. If he felt faint or light headed to go straight to ER. Meds would be available tomorrow.

( Authors Note: When dealing with stubborn people, just say GO TO THE HOSPITAL NOW.")

Death never knocks. He just enters....

During my worries and restlessness that week, I discovered an old book that had fallen off the shelf a few days earlier, "Meeting God in Quiet Places" by F.LaGard Smith. Like a whisper coming through the Aspen my heart heard, "he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside still waters." There on the cover I saw the green green pastures that carry my heart to a home long ago. 

I began reading aloud to myself to calm my soul when Jack walked by and listened as I read a parable about rabbits and perception.

    "Jesus taught in simple parables to test people's hearts, not their ears...a person whose heart is already turned toward God will easily see God in nature." (Daily we sit at the kitchen table and marvel at the beauty of nature in our backyard. It is a time we share and value together. 

    "Rabbits lives depend on hearing the approach of danger...If the rabbit on the hill can teach me anything, maybe it's that I need to make sure I'm on the right wavelength: God's wavelength."*

We talked a while about our feelings and fears and came to a deeper sense of calm. Within minutes TIME stopped for us. As Jack walked away he stopped turned toward me and said, "I'm dizzy." Then he dropped to the floor, white as ash.

Death never knocks. He just enters...

I found my voice to call to 911. 

Time passed. The fire department and ambulance arrived. They took my husband to the Health Plex as he struggled to breath and his heart had gone into AFib.  I was left  standing stund. Trouble had phoned ahead, but we weren't listening. 

Now I sat with my husband and watched him breath. I didn't cry. I whispered a scream "Don't you Die. Keep breathing. Don't you die. We're a team, don't you leave me."  Now I knew how Rose had felt that night. 

Sometimes the Angels step in and save a person's life.

Three doctors stepped in to perform the surgery to drain the blood and fluid from his lungs. When at last I could be with him I, too, could breath. 

Jack remained in ICU three days. Today we are in our sixth week of healing. We are both breathing better. We have shared many deep deep fears and realizations that come to people when we they've seen the ghost of death.

I picked up the book "Meeting God in Quiet Places" again this week and noticed my notes from the hospital hours. I, honestly, didn't want to read them or relive them, but my heart and head pushed me to reflect. 

I found these lines, "LIfe is all about conflict. Peace comes not in the cessation of conflict but in the learning how to deal with conflict. The peace begins on the familiar battleground of our own hearts...The peace of God comes to us when we use the quiet time of our life to turn our hearts over to God so that he can prepare us for whatever struggles we face... out of these special times with him, we will emerge better prepared for the spiritual battles which lie ahead." **

Joy in my heart

There is a time and place for reflection, and we are blessed to have the life to reflect upon. 

**This story was prefaced with an earlier blog: "March On" <https://literallyletty.blogspot.com/2021/03/march-on.html>

Helen Stapp died August 26, 1989

Johnie Stapp died October 21, 1989 

Ralph Don Rains died December 15, 1995

Rose Roberts Rains died November 21, 1999. 

*pgs. 23-25 "Meeting God In Quiet Places"

** p. 84 "Meeting God in Quiet Places"

MARCH On...

 Did March roar in like a lion?  I don't remember. We had plans to take day trips once a week, starting with Medicine Park and the Wichita Wildlife Refuge on March 4. 

With a keen eye and good ear you can see the thousands of birds spiraling, flock after flock flying North over us. 

What I do know is that the month is nearly past, and in that time of thirty-one days our lives have traveled the red clay paths of the Wichita Mountains, seen the migration of thousands of birds, and watched and listened in awe as migratory birds spiraled upwards towards the heavens on Mother Nature's thermals. Being graced with a moment of beauty, we felt our hearts lifted upward in tandem thanks to God's beauty, and it would be grace and God that helped us through the rest of the month. 

When the steps challenged us with height and mud around Mt. Scott, we stopped. Is this smart we silently asked. Is there a better way to see the top than take a chance? How many times have we fallen, then picked ourselves up and marched on?  We turned and took a slightly easier path up the hill (in our car no less). The views were spectacular. Back on the flatlands and hillsides we explored we felt stronger and more assured of our older bones and feet taking one step after another. 

The old stone tower in the middle of nowhere took our memories back to a time when we climbed the tower walls in Scotland. The weather in Oklahoma is such sharp contrast to the Scottish hillsides, but the power of the land and fortresses is the same. Towers hold such history, such unbelievable fascination. Like moments in time and in our lives they stand resolute and strong whether in dark or light. 

We sat by the waters' edge gazing at the clouds reflecting on the surface. Far from civilization we listened to the whisper of times past. 

We marched on through the grasses and stood in awe of the worn and tangled trees. 

The bison roamed and rolled in the mud holes never noticing the interlopers, but the playful longhorn steers stopped and gave us a look that said, "This is my land..."  I could only think, "thank you for sharing this moment with us." 

In every life there come those days when light turns dark and fear gripes our hearts. Only a few days into March, we came face to face with an adage of time.  "Enjoy each day, it may be your last."  It could be your last, my last, or a loved one's last opportunity to climb those old worn Oklahoma hills.

 And it might also bring a time of miracles, giving us the opportunity to trust our faith.