August 17 – “Happy Birthday, Chris”

The splendid library with rows upon rows of heavy tomes and lighthearted treatises was reduced to a shambles as bookcases collapsed into one another, smashing the once proud structures into piles of worthless rubble.  On one case, the shelf itself had crumbled helplessly into the raging waters, but the valiant deposits of knowledge had swelled in a vain attempt to maintain their position.  There they remained, no longer needing support from below, yet regretfully no longer able to reveal their treasures to the world.  And the few precious books that managed to avoid the cruel flood completely were rapidly falling victim to the ravages of the dreaded Muggy Offensive Lingering Disgustingness.    Indeed it was everywhere, creeping slowly but oh, so steadily up the walls and around any object that dared to stand in its way.  Methodically marching, surrounding, entering, and infesting.  Cruelly making all in its path totally unfit, totally ruined.  And to make matters worse was the accompanying stench, the burning evil that passes through the air and into the nostrils of unsuspecting, stunned bystanders, causing a horrible illness that often refuses forever to abandon its host.     OK.  If I can remember, the story will be in italics from now on.  Hope that helps.   I just came home from Bay City.  Chris' Mom continues to mystify every medical person she comes in contact with.  The hospice nurse is the newest in the growing crowd.  She said she has presented the case to several of their doctors, and none of them can believe she is still alive.  We honestly thought Sunday night would be the end.  And Monday was not much better.  But she held on.  And today she even seemed some better.  Enough that Chris encouraged me to come on home and try to get some work done.  She seemed to think I wasn't concentrating much there, even though I did try to get some studying done on the computer.   We know that she really is dying.  We know that it won't be much longer.  When Chris was able to step back from all the tension and drama, she sifted through the actual medical evidence she could see.  And I guess we can add her "nurse persona" to that list of dumbfounded medical personnel.  It took awhile for Chris to be able to reach that dispassionate nurse role.  She is not sleeping much at night.  Every sound causes her to jump.  Last night her Mom woke around 2:30 and Chris finally got her calmed down enough to fall asleep around 4:30.  There is very little joy in the house.  They keep it dark, drapes drawn most of the time.  And the AC is kept at 80 degrees because the electric bill last month was a whopping $205.  Imagine.  A July electric bill in a three bedroom house in South Texas.  $205.  Perspective, I guess.  The lack of joy is what bothers me the most about Chris staying there.  I can see that her spirit has been tested over and over again.  So far she has held it together, but she is very tired and can't be far from a breaking point.  She's well beyond my breaking point.  And today was her birthday.  Happy Birthday, Chris.   Psalms 30:5 says, "weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning."   Father, I keep returning to that same promise.  Bring us morning.  Amen.