So Jealous

Deborah Lewis

img_6968“I can’t do this alone.”

Five words I had never heard from my resilient, life-long friend. I shifted gears, quickly completed my task and jumped into my my minivan. I barely stopped as Karen entered the vehicle. Within minutes we were at Mayo’s ICU.

Momma Rose, (94) his “beautiful, blond wife” gazed into Karen’s eyes and stated, “If we were at my home I would run and go get you a coco water.” Her words were true to character, constant love in action. Tears streamed down Karen’s face. He didn’t look good. Breathing with a vent, he was tired. He wanted to go home. The machines would shortly be silenced.

I was on my knees caressing Rose’s delicate hand. I fully assented to what I was “supposed”to be feeling. I was supposed to be grieving. I should have been crying precisely as Karen did. My emotions conjured a differing result. I was jealous. So Jealous. Not because I have a cold heart,  or suffer depression, or have a death wish. I do not. I have a child that lives in heaven and very soon he would be there too. At times like this I longed to visit.

I imagined his welcome. He would be greeted by a stadium brimming with grateful souls transformed because of his laser like focus on The Kingdom. There would be rejoicing through shouts, songs, banners, processions, and warm, extended embraces. He would be highly honored and greatly esteemed for all of eternity.

He was a life changer. Gifted with healing, he served faithfully until just a few days earlier when a stroke inconveniently interrupted his life’s work. Desperately I desired to place in his arms a teddy bear, flowers and some chocolates to bring Carly, as if the Egyptians thoughts about the afterlife rang true.

I purposed in my heart to ask him to greet her. However, as I leaned over and kissed the wispy, snowy white strands of his bangs, the only words that proceeded from my mouth as a whisper were, “Thank you. Good bye. Thank you so much!” His skin was soft and gentle, and marked with age spots. The moment  lingered. My spirit repeated over and over, “Well done! Well done! Well done!”

Thank you, Dr. Steve Gyland (1926-2018), you were a fearless champion for the Almighty. Your seeds will come to harvest. Thank you for opening your home, sharing your wife and your stories with me. Xxoo.

PS: Please give Carly a big hug and kiss.

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Published by Deborah Lewis

Don't ever give in. Don't ever quit. Don't ever surrender. What gives me the right to say that? Mountains of impossibility that I have walked through: 6 1/2 years of infertility, an adoption that did not go through, two seasons of helping raise other people's children, a miscarriage, paid back every cent of 85K of debt, crisis pregnancy, raising a special needs daughter, the death of that daughter, divorce etc... With every challenge came real wounds, but something else in juxtaposition to the scars: wisdom, and treasure. Real riches found on very broken paths. Some of my closest friends have caught my tears big, wet, snotting up, warm tears, but they have also "seen" the gifts acquired along the way. They have experienced hope in hopeless situations. They have gleaned tenacity in unbearable circumstance. And to be VERY CLEAR this is not because I am strong, very much the opposite. I KNOW how weak I am. Don't give up. Don't give in. Don't surrender. "For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on You." 2Chron 20:12. My mom would say, "Shoulders back, chest out!" I would add to that, fix your eyes on the only One who declares, "You are more that a conqueror!"

2 Comments

  1. Debra, this is so like Jesus. Thanks for sharing

    1 Peter 2:21
    For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps.

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