\u201cI can’t find that one bear I used to have!\u201d \u00a0<\/em>I will never understand how she can be missing that\u00a0one<\/em> bear <\/em>considering she sleeps with twenty-something stuffed animals, most of which are bears.\u00a0 Does she count them?\u00a0 Maybe she counts them…because that’s what kids do with the directions, “close your eyes and go to sleep.”<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cI can’t sleep because my dolls might\u00a0come alive!\u201d\u00a0 <\/em>I mean, what is there even to say? \u00a0These are the nights when I find her dolls piled up in the hallways outside her room. \u00a0It’s better for them to come to life out in the hallway, she tells me, because that way they can get around the house as needed.<\/p>\n Duh.<\/p>\n \u201cI’m just so starving that I can’t even sleep!\u201d\u00a0 <\/em>That’s typically followed with reactionary statements from me like:\u00a0\u201cYou should have eaten your dinner,\u201d <\/em>which usually gets responses from her like, \u201cBut that dinner was the grossest thing I’ve ever tasted in my whole, entire life!\u201d \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n I just love these get-out-of-bed-late-while-crying episodes. \u00a0So fun.<\/p>\n But this particular night was pretty different.\u00a0 She was crying harder than usual, and after giving her firm directions to turn back around, she said, \u201cBut I miss YaYa.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n My mom died last spring after a long battle with a rare brain disease, and for some reason my youngest started thinking about her, missing her.\u00a0 For a while we sat quietly on the couch until my daughter finally said, \u201cShe was just so sad.\u201d\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n She was sad a lot of the time in her last days.\u00a0 It was a hard disease; God gave my mom a very difficult task, but He was always present in her small room, and I reminded my daughter that YaYa also had some happy moments…times when her bed-ridden body would come to life.<\/p>\n Let’s try to think of the times she came to life.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n And so for the next couple of days, we talked about all the things that gave YaYa life in her last days, and Lily came up with most of them:<\/p>\n Marge. \u00a0<\/strong>We\u00a0remembered that YaYa always smiled when her neighbor, Marge, visited her room.\u00a0 The smile was attributed to two things:<\/p>\n Marge was just awesome.\u00a0 She was an incredibly sweet and empathic woman, but one thing was certain\u2026you don\u2019t mess with Marge.\u00a0 This became a bit of a mantra around our family.<\/p>\n Marge always stood up for my mom, making her feel safe and not vulnerable to other more difficult people around the care center.\u00a0 On one occasion, my mom was screaming in pain and confusion when a loud and angry voice outside her room yelled, \u201cShut that woman up<\/em>!\u201d\u00a0 The louder mom got, the louder the resident\u2019s frustration became.<\/p>\n But then Marge.\u00a0 And you don\u2019t mess with Marge. At the top of her lungs, this dear friend piped up in defense of my mom:<\/p>\n \u201cYOU shut up or I\u2019m gonna shut you up!\u00a0 Leave the woman alone<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n And well, that was the end of that from the frustrated lady.\u00a0 I felt like standing up and yelling, \u201cYou go Marge<\/em>,\u201d or some other ridiculous follow up to show our gratitude, but a smile from my mom sufficed.\u00a0 Mom probably figured she had to get the smile in quickly before I made a fool of myself with fist-pumps and high fives around the care center.<\/p>\n But Marge was also a comforter.\u00a0 Every time she won a Bingo game, she would have a choice of a prize, and every time she\u2019d choose the stuffed animal\u2026for my mom.<\/p>\n And Marge won a lot of Bingo games.<\/p>\n Every single one of the stuffed animals was kept in or around mom\u2019s bed.\u00a0 They brought her comfort and a sense of security knowing they came from someone who deeply cared.<\/p>\n Lily. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/strong>Yep, she named herself. \u00a0In fact, Lily’s\u00a0pretty sure that her YaYa may have<\/em> had a favorite grand-child.\u00a0 And, she thinks that title may have <\/em>belonged\u00a0to her.\u00a0 I\u2019ll admit that the two of them certainly had something special.<\/p>\n Lily doesn\u2019t remember my mom before her illness, so the side-effects of the disease never seemed to bother my youngest.\u00a0 She\u2019d march into mom\u2019s small room and almost immediately take charge:<\/p>\n “Oh, brother, YaYa.\u00a0 Why is your bed all messed up again?\u00a0 Get in there and let me fix it.” \u00a0<\/em>And my all-time favorite command from my youngest to her grandmother: \u00a0“Stop that crying, YaYa!\u00a0 There\u2019s nothing to be crying about! “<\/em><\/p>\n And I\u2019m certain my mom loved it (Pretty certain.\u00a0 Mostly certain.).\u00a0 She did love to have Lily near, even with her many cartwheels in the way-too- small-for-cartwheels room, but Lily\u2019s bright demeanor would inevitably distract my mom from the difficulty of her disease.\u00a0 And even when Lily was using medical chairs as \u201croller coasters\u201d for her dolls, there was always a sense of hope and happiness that kid would bring with her.<\/p>\n Sweet, rich food<\/strong>.\u00a0 <\/strong>Lily remembered that her YaYa loved tootsie pops. \u00a0Mom loved her candy, and man, oh, man, there was something about those tootsie pops during her illness that brought her real satisfaction.<\/p>\n Lily empathized.\u00a0 \u201cMom, remember?\u00a0 We would both be happy when we got a tootsie pop.\u201d\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Earlier on, we were asked what mom\u2019s favorite foods were \u2013 the kitchen staff cheerfully prepared whatever she wanted in order to keep her weight up and her body nourished sufficiently.\u00a0 And here were the staples we listed:\u00a0 bacon, steak, fried chicken, mashed potatoes\u2026and chocolate.<\/p>\n I remember one of the nurses asking:\u00a0 \u201cAny kind of special vegetable or fruit she loves?\u201d \u00a0\u00a0<\/em>I laughed and told them to just stick with the bacon \u2013 maybe chocolate covered if they could manage that.<\/p>\n My son inherited her love for rich food.\u00a0 It all came full circle when I asked him which vegetable he\u2019d like for dinner.<\/p>\n \u201cHow about some corn, mom.\u201d\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em>\u201cCorn\u2019s not really a vegetable.\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em>\u201cThen fried-chicken.\u201d\u00a0 <\/em><\/p>\n My mom would have given him a high-five, and they probably would have enjoyed their vegetable of fried chicken together. While mom could still enjoy the food, it was always fun to see her light up when they brought in steak and potatoes.<\/p>\n And a Tootsie Pop.<\/p>\n Faithful Friends.\u00a0<\/strong>Mom had some very faithful friends.\u00a0 Lily and I talked about these friends from her present and past who would come and swim with her, sing to her, and just be with her, each representing years of blessed support and love through joyful times and difficult times.\u00a0 The hands of these dear friends physically held up my mom hour upon hour, and when she could no longer get up, their love continued to support and carry her through.<\/p>\n I heard many memories while friends sat around her bed.\u00a0 One of my favorite stories was when mom pretended she was blind during her teenage years. \u00a0The handicap were first in line to go up in the St. Louis arch when it was built in the 1960\u2019s.\u00a0 And my \u201cblind\u201d mother was one of the first to enter the doors of the Gateway to the West.<\/p>\n And she thoroughly enjoyed all the sites.<\/p>\n In considering all these ways mom “woke” from her despair, I found myself grasping for the things that give me life – the things that give me courage and strength, that nourish beyond physical need. \u00a0 What brings a deep and lasting sense of joy and satisfaction?<\/p>\n The Word gives life. \u00a0<\/em>I kept repeating it over and over.<\/p>\n But what does it mean? \u00a0“Give me life according to your Word!<\/em>\u00a0” is what Psalmist declares, but how\u00a0<\/em>does it give life when so many times I feel so tired, so lifeless.<\/p>\n Perhaps Scripture gives life in many of the same ways I saw it given to my mom. \u00a0\u00a0It comforts us when we\u2019re despairing; no one can comfort better than the words God has given to those who mourn. \u00a0 It physically encompasses us through the darkest valleys and gives the hope needed to pull us from the trenches, much like Lily’s cartwheels did for mom.\u00a0 And the hope we have of eternity with Jesus gives us the perspective needed in a broken world. \u00a0That anticipation makes us long for the day when all will be redeemed, when even creation will clap their hands and shout for joy.\u00a0 No matter how unstable or insecure our world may seem, the Word reminds us that Jesus is and always will be King of Kings and Lord of Lords.\u00a0 This hope brings life and brings light; this truth helps us see past the brokenness.\u00a0 It sustains us, strengthens us, and reminds us of God\u2019s continued faithfulness. \u00a0It awakens us with the promise that\u00a0each morning His mercies are new. \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Life. \u00a0Breath. \u00a0Refreshment. \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n There was one other thing Lily remembered that brought YaYa to life: \u00a0the sun.\u00a0 Lily used to help push the wheel chair outside, and when she could, mom\u00a0would lift her face, close her eyes, and soak up the sun. She loved the warmth, and she loved the sun.<\/p>\n A friend reminded me this last week that the Bible is not merely a group of words, it is Jesus<\/em>.\u00a0 \u201cIn the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.\u201d\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Our reading of this life giving source is not merely what transforms us, refreshes us, and gives us life.\u00a0 Jesus transforms us, and the Scripture introduces us to Him, the son of God, the source of hope, and the sustainer of life.<\/p>\n Lift your face, close your eyes, soak up the Son, and come to life. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 <\/em><\/p>\n![\"fullsizerender\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/katiepolski.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/10\/FullSizeRender.jpg?resize=316%2C422&ssl=1\")
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