Comfort.

I found myself wide awake while the rest of my family slept and the house was eerily silent.  My mind and heart were simply too full, too busy, too restless.  Sleep simply would not come.  So, I got out of bed and made my way to the living room.  I wrapped up in a soft blanket and began to think and pray.  I was once again struggling to find my way through the fog of grief. 


A friend from my elementary school days recently lost her father unexpectedly in a car accident in our hometown.  Immediately, my heart was heavy and I began to pray for her and her family...to "carry that burden" as found in Galatians.  The loss of a loved one is too heavy a burden to carry alone.  So, I find myself in that familiar place again...heartbroken for a friend and grieving my parents deaths once again.  I miss them.


So, as I sat on the couch praying and thinking...I heard the sound of pudgy little feet coming down the hall.  My little boy, Matthew, was awake.  He needed to go potty and was afraid to go into the dark bathroom without a "growned up" person.  So, we made the trip together and then shuffled back to his bed.  He asked me to snuggle with him until he fell asleep.  I simply couldn't resist that sweet invitation.  As we lay together in the dark, God used my little boy to minister to me.  Matthew said, "Mom, did you know that God was with me when I was borned a long time ago?  He was there in the beginning and He was like the wind.  Did you know that, Mom?"  I reassured Matthew that God had always been with him and that He always would be.  Matthew grinned.  Then he said, "Mom, Poppy whispered in my ear that He loved me and I was special."  I told him that his Poppy (my dad) loved him so very much and Matthew was very special to Poppy and to Jesus, too.  Matthew smiled a crooked little knowing grin and said, "Mom, I already knowed that." 


I replied, "I am so glad that you did already know that, Matthew.  Thanks for reminding me."
I needed to remember that God loves me, He is with me, this grief and sadness are not more than I can bear with his help, and how blessed I was to have such amazing parents.  I don't travel this road alone...God is near.

    If your heart is broken, you'll find God right there;
if you're kicked in the gut, he'll help you catch your breath.  

Psalm 34:18

George.



George taking a snooze.

 Not long after Rocky joined the Johnson Tribe, we gained another furry family member.  When my dad's health began to decline rapidly, he wasn't able to care for his dog any longer.  My parent's dog, George, is quite possibly the world's perfect dog...well, minus his dog breath and frequent flatulence{snicker}.  He is small, the perfect size for curling up in your lap.  He has an incredibly sweet personality, never aggressive in any way.  His fur is soft and curly, perfect for petting.  George has the most adorable little pudgy tail and it seems to always be wagging...he is a happy guy!  All of my dad's grandchildren love, love, love George.  He was a constant companion to my dad in his retirement.  After my mom's death, George's company was even more appreciated.  George gave my dad someone to care for, talk to, complain about, and "hang out" with.  When my dad would arrive at my house for a visit, my kids would run to his truck to shouting, "George! Poppy!"  My dad joked that they loved George more than they loved him. 

As my dad's health began to decline more rapidly, we had many conversations about the past...remembering the wonderful times our family had shared.  I also heard many stories for the first time - sort of shocking, my dad was a storyteller and I thought I had heard them all.  We laughed and cried...and remembered.  We also had a few conversations about the future.  He told me what we should do with some of his belongings after his death...material posessions didn't have much value to my dad.  We talked about how he was ready to go to Heaven and how he longed to be with my mom again.  We also talked about George.  He was concerned about what would happen to him and how he didn't want to burden anyone with George's care.  I quickly told him that George was a joy and not a burden...and that most likely we would end up in a custody battle over him!  My dad thought that having George at my house might be a comfort to my boys after he was gone.  He was so right.


Keeping Caleb company during his breathing treatment.

So, we've gone from zero dogs to two dogs in just a few months.  Brad is taking it all in stride...because he loves his family, he will tolerate the dogs {smile}.  George and Rocky have become pals.  They get along incredibly well and have similar termperments.  Rocky and George are rarely apart...snuggling on the dog bed, resting in the chair, playing outside, sharing a dog crate...they are canine companions. 

George has become one of the family.  We love him.   I can't imagine not having him here.  Welcome to the Johnson Tribe, George! 



More.

Calvin Lee “Bud” Sherrow, 70, of Hagerstown went home to Heaven on November 16, 2011.  

 He was born January 7, 1941 in Richmond, Indiana to Joseph Sherrow and Betty (Sherrow) Parrett. 

Bud earned his GED and went on to serve in the United States Army.  He served overseas and had fond memories of his time spent in Germany and Korea.  Following his service to his country, he returned to Richmond.  He worked at Kemper Cabinet Company for nearly 38 years, retiring in 2003.

Bud married Judy Hunter Sherrow on October 7, 1967 and welcomed three children into their family.  Bud was a loving husband, father, and grandfather.  He was a loyal brother, uncle, and friend.  Bud was happiest spending time with his family, making memories with his grandchildren, reading, and gardening.

Bud is survived by his children: Jeff (Laura) Sherrow of Hagerstown, Tony Sherrow of Richmond, and Christina (Brad) Johnson of Wilmore, KY;   his nine grandchildren: Ashley Sherrow, Morgan Kincaid, Zackery, Grace, and Lillee Sherrow, Sam, Luke, Caleb and Matthew Johnson.  Also surviving are his siblings: Harriet Clark of Franklin, IN, Charlie Parrett (Carol) of Richmond, and Carl Parrett (Sandy) of Richmond.  He also leaves an aunt, several cousins, nieces, and nephews.    He was preceded in death by his wife, his parents, his stepfather, Ed Parrett; his sisters, Joan Clapp, Carol Simpson, and Brenda Riddle; and his grandsons Dylan Sherrow and Austin Sherrow. 

A celebration of Bud’s life will be held at First United Methodist Church at 318 National Road West in Richmond on Saturday, November 19^th at 10:00 am.  In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Gleaners Food Bank at 3737 Waldemere Ave. Indianapolis, IN 46241 or www.gleaners.org.

This is my dad's obituary that will appear in our hometown newspaper.  The words are all accurate and true...but very inadequate.  He was much more than the information contained in those paragraphs.  

I have been thinking about how by "worldly" standards, my dad lived a pretty unremarkable life.  Aside from his military travels, he lived and died in the county where he was born.  He got married to a nice girl, raised three kids, worked at the same job for 38 years...nothing really "exceptional" about his life - in fact, he would seem to be a very ordinary guy.  

However, what most folks don't know is that my dad really was extraordinary.  He and my mom were the most generous people I have ever known.  While they were never wealthy - they always gave as if they were.  Honestly, I can remember my folks giving/loaning money to people my entire life.  My mom was always volunteering my dad to do things - like delivering Christmas gifts/dinner to someone who had none, helping to fix someone's leaky sink who couldn't afford to pay a plumber, restoring an old bicycle to give to a little neighbor girl who didn't have one, driving my grandmother to play bingo with her friends (grin), fixing someone's car or furnace, and he even helped to paint my mother-in-law's home.  My dad's heart was broken when our childhood friend's young son died of SIDS...the only child and apple of his parent's eyes.  They wanted to donate all of his things.  They gathered up his crib, his toys, his clothes...and my dad went to pick them up and deliver them to the donation site.  He told me about how sad he was for the young parents and how difficult it was to see all of the things that this little guy should have used for a long time to come.  

My dad was much more than a blue collar guy from Indiana...he was a care-giver, he was an encourager, he was a story-teller, he was decent, he was loyal, he was a good man, he was the most patient person I have ever known, he was a very attentive grandfather - he really knew his grandchildren, he was amazing.  He was more than just an "ordinary man" - he was my dad.

Silent.

My blog has been silent for the past few months.  Not because I lack things to write about, rather there is too much going on in my heart, my mind, my life...words don't come easily.  However, sleep wouldn't come easily tonight...and words seem to.

My dad had a heart attack in June.  I got the phone call that no one wants to receive from my oldest brother in the early hours of the morning.  I packed a bag and made the drive to Indiana.  Ten months after my mom's sudden death, I found myself in another hospital room.  Listening to the sounds of monitors, watching the blinking of lights on machines that were delivering medications, and did my best to take in what was really happening. 

Later that afternoon, I met with my dad's cardiologist.  He shared the ultrasound images of my dad's heart.  It was not good news.  I listened as he gently explained that the damage was severe, that blockages had gone undetected, and then he stopped.  He collected his thoughts and then went on to tell me that my dad's case was very different than any he had seen before.  My dad's heart was severely enlarged - not a normal symptom related to the heart blockages.  The doctor asked if my dad had experienced any traumatic emotional event in the past few months.  I felt my throat tighten and my eyes began to burn...I could feel the tears coming.  I explained that my mom had died earlier that year.  He told me that my dad was probably suffering from Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy or "broken heart syndrome" in addition to the other cardiac issues.  He smiled and said, "Your dad must have really loved your mom."  He mapped out what the next few days would look like...tests to be run, meds to be administered, and questions to be answered.  It was all just the beginning of a long journey.

After a week long hospital stay, my dad was released.  The docs told us that he was gravely ill and would most likely not survive a month.  The next few months would bring a decreased appetite and dramatic weight-loss, the placement of a permanent pacemaker/defibrillator, changes in his diet, and incredible fatigue.  The lack of energy seemed to bother him most.  We determined to take advantage of the time we had with him.  He shared time between his home in Indiana and our house here in Kentucky.  Making lots of memories with his grand kids, having really rich conversations about the past and the future, and just loving one another.  What a tremendous gift God had given us.

Nearly five months later, we find ourselves at another crossroads.  The hospice nurse tells us that he will most likely meet Jesus in just a matter of days now.  I find myself so thankful that his suffering will end and the joy will begin...but, my heart is also filled with sadness.  I will miss him. 

Although I am overwhelmed, I know that God is with me.  He loves me.  He is able to bear my burden.  He will carry me.

"The Lord your God goes with you; 

He will never leave you nor forsake you."  

Deuteronomy 31:6