Judy

The gulf view from the 7th floor of the condos.

Mark took this pic of me the day he stayed at the condo.

Judy.  My sister, Judy, died Jan 2, 2013.  I was with her, holding her, talking to her, comforting her as she passed from this life to the next.  As much as I know
, really know that I will see her again in Heaven, it still really hurt so badly. Judy was a Christian.  She depended as I do on Christ's sacrifice on the cross as payment for our sin and his resurrection as a promise that we will rise as well.  Jesus said it was so and we totally believe and accept that.  Even with that faith, hope, and knowledge, it's still difficult to let go of the people we love.  Judy died of pancreatic cancer.

After Judy's funeral, a friend offered me her condo on the beach for the week because she knew I'd had a rough time.  See, I had two sisters and both died of pancreatic cancer. Phyllis had died 10 years, 10 months and 10 days before Judy died.  Mama died four years before Judy.  So all of the women I had grown up with were gone.  All of the female companionship, the telephone calls checking on each other, the sharing of hurts and love, joy and sadness, the prayers for each other were gone.  Just gone. I could never talk on the phone with them again.  Never share another cup of coffee, never get a hug, an 'I love you' from these women who shared my DNA, my history, my youth, my life's journey.  I can't express how much I miss them.  And, I can't expect anyone to understand or sympathize or help in any way unless they've experienced the same.  I saw all three take their last breath,  I held them in my arms and sang to them....these my flesh and blood.

Mama, me, Judy, Phyllis

I cherished my time that week, crying and praying, seeking, resting, trying to heal.  It helped and I'll be forever grateful for a friend who would do so much for me.  As I sat on the 7th floor balcony (pictures above) in the January cold, looking out at the beautiful Gulf of Mexico, I understood how very tiny we are...how vast the ocean, the world, the galaxy, the many galaxies beyond us.  We are specks in a huge, vast expanse of God's creation and yet the God who can hold all of this in the palm of His hand is close enough to know how many hairs are on our heads...close enough to whisper His love into our souls.  Why do we run from someone so powerful and loving?  Why do we think we can escape His view?  Why would we want to hide from this most loving Father?  I don't know.  We're human and foolish.  I realized that He is my hope, my only hope.  I have nothing without Him.  No one on this earth could have helped me through the months of grief I endured.  Only God understood, only God had lost so much, had experienced my pain.  Only God cared enough to give me all the time I needed, all the love I craved, all of the comfort that no one else could give.

Look out at that view of the Gulf, see how tiny those homes look?  They're huge if you're standing right next to them.  But from the 7th floor they look like toy houses.  Same as our grief, our pain, looks huge when it's fresh,new and up close. As we step away from it and see the big picture, we realize that it's not monstrously huge to God.  He sees the whole timeline, birth to death to life with Him.  It's a breath, a moment, this life.  Soon and very soon, I will see my loved ones again.  We will shout for joy, we'll whisper 'I love you and missed you!'  again. We'll sing praise to the King of kings, and Lord of lords for the goodness and mercy He has shown to us.

Judy

Thank you, Lord, for seeing me through these times of grief and loss.  Thank you for loving me even when I don't feel lovable..even when I don't want to be bothered with you.  How is it even possible that I ever feel that way.  But, the truth is sometimes I do.  Sometimes I run away.  Forgive me, and draw me close.  You are my Rock. You gave me joy again.