Autumn Memories-BLOG
Bright hues of gold, orange, and red washed over the forest that framed our farm with grace. Summer days of baling hay had been traded for picking fields of corn. I bellowed Amazing Grace at the top of my voice into the crisp fall wind, as I rode in the wagon behind the corn picker. It was my job to push the corn to the back of the wagon to make room for the new grain falling from the picker arm like a waterfall of yellow and brown. It was tranquil work that filled my evenings after school until dark when we trudged home beyond cold and hungry for whatever my mother had hot on the stove. It was the days of family meals around the dining room table. It was satisfaction at another evening of hard work evidenced in the corn crib out the back door. It was fall, my favorite season.
Fall has always been my favorite. It marched in boldly, danced a merry waltz with my senses, and then pirouetted its way out with Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. I loved everything about it: sweaters and jackets, the smell of leaves covering the ground, corn stalks, pumpkins, football, bonfires, hayrides, and family. It always comes back to family. Second to God, family has always been most important to me. Fall embodied all that was fun and precious in my family, culminating in a special day in which I thanked God for all the wonderful blessings in my life.
Life, if you spend enough of it, will always take you on a tour of the joys and heartaches it holds. Fast forward to another autumn, 2008, this was the fall that changed it all. Two weeks before the church Fall Harvest Festival, my husband became violently ill. The jaundiced color of his skin matched the masses of merry pumpkins that graced our house. The whites of his eyes scared me the most; they resembled the hue found inside one of those gourds. It was a trip to the hospital, a seemingly quick visit before getting back to our busy living. He never came home. After two weeks at a local hospital where we learned that he had sclerosis of the liver and then kidneys that shut down, we were being shipped to Detroit for a liver transplant. I will never forget the look in his eyes right before they put him in the transporting ambulance when he whispered, “I’m scared.” My rock needed me to be the strong one, and I didn’t feel capable.
The next month was a horrific trauma that my mind returns to each year at this time. Our church lovingly made it possible for us to live at the hospital during our stay. The walk to his room was a long one. Fall leaves swirled a dance at my feet as I made that trek each morning dreading the report because each day it was worse. I walked that way in such fear every morning, praying aloud and proclaiming to myself that he would live and not die, boosting my faith before the doctor’s awful words. The season continued to change and march on toward Thanksgiving, but I found my heart having a very hard time being thankful. Fall decorations filled the hallways and waiting rooms, and where delight used to fill me, I now had no feeling as a zombie-like numbness overtook me. I made it through each day with the support of family and friends. I really don’t know what kind of a mess I would have been in without them. And then, two days after Thanksgiving, my husband went to his heavenly home, a place he had been longing for.
To say I was shocked is a vast understatement. My whole world was rocked to its core. I truly believed that he would be healed miraculously. I had joyously declared it to every nurse and doctor who entered his room. I believed in the power of my God implicitly without even a smidgeon of doubt. I felt betrayed by the One I loved most. The King of Kings that I preached about and served faithfully had let me down. How was I to come to grips with that? I cannot say it happened quickly; actually it took about a year to have peace with God. I never stopped loving Him, and I never stopped serving Him, but He and I needed to have some serious discussions. Like the loving Father He is, He patiently listened to my grief and comforted me in the night hours.
Then one day during prayer time, he ministered to me through a friend. She said the words I needed to hear the most. She said, “I feel like God wants you to know that you didn’t lack the faith for Michael’s healing. He wants you to know that He gave Mike the choice, and he chose to go home.” Well, I knew in my heart the truth of these words. Michael had been saying for some time that he wished Jesus would come get us because he was weary and just wanted to go home. Even though the pain was a reality, it was a great comfort to know that he got his wish to go home. He knew that I have a strong family base and that we would be well taken care of. His fight was long and painful. I couldn’t begrudge him the decision he made. Healing in my heart began that day.
Fall still dances around my senses with smells hitting me hardest. The wonderful fragrance of swirling leaves on the ground for a long time reminded me vividly of that walk to Michael’s room each day. But as time passes, it also mingles with wonderful memories from my childhood and new ones made each year with loved ones, all to paint a peace-filled little smile on my face. I move towards Thanksgiving, still glad to spend it with my wonderful family, giving thanks for all the blessings life holds. It’s still my favorite holiday because of those things, and yet it holds memories of such deep sorrow. It creates a barrage of feelings that sometimes overwhelm me. But my life is good and filled with love because God loves me and is faithful to bring joy in the morning.
God is good; He restores and renews. He lifts our head with new joys and comforts us when we find ourselves falling into a morose depression. He is faithful to carry us through even those things we don’t feel we can endure. When the day feels the darkest, there is a shining light glowing with love for you. Look up and find your strength. It’s a comfort to know that He understands completely the sorrow of losing a loved one, for He lost His only son. Grief pangs do not go away; however, the love of God and new blessings showered on your life help fill the canvas of your mind and heart. Father God will never leave you, and He will not forsake you. He is faithful to surround you with His presence whenever you need Him. Call on His name, and He will run to you. Hold on, dear one, you are never alone.
Psalm 30:11-12 You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, To the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever.
It’s true, you know. Though it doesn’t seem possible at the time, God does turn our mourning into dancing, and He will clothe you with gladness once again. Give yourself time to mourn and heal. Give yourself permission to feel everything, good and bad. Realize that there will be bad days, and that’s ok. Most of all, know that you are loved by God Almighty…loved beyond measure!
