Illness and the Disappearing Act. Our 40-Year History,

 Dearest,

    In January 1983, You didn't have to work hard to win my heart. Your navy blue three-piece pin-stripe suit, French horn tie, and white Oxford shirt, were perfectly pressed. Your olive complextion, clean cut black hair, tiger-rimmed glasses personified the prince in my baby Cinderella books. If these external, fleshy appearance wasn't enough to turn my head, our spiritual like minds made our initial meeting a joy. We are both music majors who like classical: You like the Romantic period and I prefer Baroque and early works, but we both love traditional, doctrinal hymns. I love the church organ and you are an organist. Most importantly, the Holy Presence of God was with you and I saw Our Lord in your face and voice. 

    Dearest, the whole time I first met you, I was pleading, 'Oh Lord, please spare me marriage; I love this man, but I don't want to marry; I want to serve you as a single missionary.' I tried to resist any attraction above a 'brother in Christ friendship.' I fasted and prayed that God would take away the cup of marriage, but in April, at a joint fellowship dinner with Emmanuel College, we agreed to enter the study stage in our relationship. The idea that I would encourage and help you accomplish the will of God in your life as your helpmate was the natural reality that I have ever known. For the first time after I gave my life to Christ and had the blessed experience of Sanctification and Baptism of the Holy Spirit, I knew God was in this relationship. God gave me the mind and heart to give my life for a husband and I was filled with His Joy. 

    I found a reason and purpose for my life. I found out the reason I get out of bed every day. My ministry and work in my life is YOU. God gave me You as my work and ministry. I know I am replaceable if I fail God and certainly know anyone could be happy living with you, but God placed me, allowed me, and assigned me to You. My joy is complete. 

    We had no money or connections despite our college, work, and life experiences, but we prayed every morning and night together, agreeing to trust and obey God. I know that even when we were alone and even despised, we had each other, and we had God in authority. We both made horrible mistakes and sinned against God and each other over the years, but we always came together to take hold of the foot of Our Lord's Cross. I read every book on how to be a good wife and tried to put the principles in practice. I tried cooking and after three years, you took that role and the scales show how much I love and miss your cooking. I confess, my Dearest, I totally hate to cook. 

    We lived at fourteen mailing addresses, I attended nine schools, and we served ten churches. I never felt like a good pastor's wife for the parishes, but I always tried my best for you. I say this freely by the mercy and grace of God. I'm not comfortable with children and hate to cook despite my every effort and experience. 

    Through all the jobs, constant money concerns, and stress, I know we lived our best. 

    Please, Dearest, when you see me arrive in Heaven, will you be glad? Would you be able, or allowed to love me and hug me? My goodness, I miss our hugs, praying together, singing our hymns at night, and falling asleep. Dearest, I would love to 'cross the ocean' just to see you and hug you. I miss our holding hands in the car, laughing, joking, listening to Car Talk or Lake Wobegone. I miss our going out to eat just to get away alone together. 

    I don't eat out or even go to church because you spoiled me with the best of 'Mom and Grandma's cooking' and Christ-centered, holiness sermons. I just can't find a new home without you. 

    Dearest, God has been so merciful to me despite my failings, and has blessed me with peace and strength to live every day. I get up in the morning praying that God will lead me and guide me through the day just as we prayed together. 

    Knowing you are with Our Lord is my new reason for staying close to the foot of His Cross and waiting on His leading. If I can't know solutions now, then I will wait at the foot of the Cross and on Our Lord's leading. I will trust and obey God with His mercy and help. God has a reason my life is as it is without you...O Lord, help me believe in You and Your Will, Your Way, Your Holy Word. Please...In Jesus Holy Name...Amen. September 2026

Illness and the Disappearing Act. Today. Just another day.

 My Dearest, 

    Today started just as any other day, waking up, praying and thanking God for sleep, the ability to function, a clean water shower, and the ability to stand up on my two feet and dress myself. I tried to keep my mind on God and pray for clean hands and a pure heart that God can love. I walked to work and thanked God for the ability to walk and the crisp, cold temperatures. I love wearing your cardigan and gloves in the Winter. My finger tips are still frozen by the time I get to my building. 

    Honey, was I ok when you were with me? 

    Suddenly, I want to swim the ocean to see and be with you again.1

    As you know, I've been extremely preoccupied with the business of life and trying to learn to live responsibly on my own; I haven't really cried. I saw RT today in passing and asked how we were and I suddenly felt the tearing. You liked him and visited with him a lot in the library, waiting on me to get off work. He was so kind and apologetic, but I kept reassuring him that God is good to me by providing a roof over my head and my job. I thanked God for our precious Church, which let me stay in the church house until I could find a place, and allowed me to leave anything I wanted so they could sell it for me. 

    Honey, was I ok when you were with me?

        Did I treat you well as your help-meet, partner, wife?

            Were you able to find some laughter and escape from the stresses? 

    Dearest, I think you left me a bit too soon and now eight months later, I'm hurting. I should rejoice for your new eternal life with Christ and the horrible pain ended, but I'm selfish right now and really miss you. I want to cry for you, but desperately trying to survive by trusting and obeying God. 

    Maybe God is allowing me a bit of emotional time. I really want to cry, but can't. My eyes are a bit teary, but my goodness, I am hurting. Is this the awful pain listed by death statistics? 

    O Lord Jesus, Thy Will Alone be done. Not mine. 

    Please, Lord, help me accept Your Will Alone. 

    I'll wait until Jesus calls for me. 2

1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SysBazd50D8&list=RDSysBazd50D8&start_radio=1
Writer: TOWNES VAN ZANDT, Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing, O/B/O DistroKidsource: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/d/donwilliamsemmylouharrislyrics/ifineededyoulyrics.html

2. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZbJOdB1rVg&list=RDzZbJOdB1rVg&start_radio=1
https://www.discogs.com/release/4890821-Emmylou-Harris-Angel-Band

Illness and the Disappearing Act

In October 2021, my Mother was sick and I traveled to my home in Ohio hoping to help out, and when I returned home to NC, my husband Chris was sick. Was it heartburn, indigestion, or maybe the usual flare-up of sinus or allergies causing him to lose weight? He already has these issues, so I thought it couldn't be serious and I was glad he was losing weight due to his threat of obesity. 

I said goodbye to Mother on December 1, 2021, and after her funeral, I returned home and Chris had an endoscopy. The doctor came into the recovery room and asked us to pray for him, I carried anointing oil and applied a bit to the doctor's forehead and the three of us prayed. I felt honored actually believing the godly doctor was asking for intercession for himself. A minute after 'amen,' he showed us the results and a walnut-sized tumor was blocking my husband's esophagus. Chris had cancer.

Now, after two years of very proactive medical help, successful surgery removing all the threats, and constant, caring medical intervention, Chris is still sick, and unable to digest his meals. I'm watching my Dearest disappear in front of me when I wake up, return home from work, see him before bedtime, and try to cuddle against his back. At every encounter, he is thinner. 

Chris wears loose clothing to hide his bones, but I know he is even thinner than the man I married. I thought he was bony then, but nothing compares to what he looks like now. I pray with the image of holding on to the foot of the cross, believing God has a purpose for this terrifying reality, while praying for healing. I plead the blood of Christ over my own lack of faith. Are we being impatient? Am I hoping to become a widow and free of parish life? Should I plan to survive without Dearest in my life?

There are times I am so very selfish and sinful that I actually wish he would pass and be free of such misery. His constant pain and nausea keep him confined to limited spaces. He vacuums, cooks, and keeps his office hours at the church parish and averages 9-10 thousand steps on his Fitbit every day. Chris has always been diligent with his personal responsibilities; he has to because I have to work with no choice. Yet, despite all the highest efforts by medical and our best diet habits, he still cannot gain weight. All we can do is pray believing and pursue the best health habits possible, then the rest belongs to God. Please God heal...please heal my Dearest. Is it wrong that I pray, 'please?'

Thank God for the best of health insurance, health care, a loving family, and a loving church family. Thank God for His mercy and grace in our lives...Thank God for He is with us, guiding us in His Perfect Will as we follow Jesus in His Way...Thank God Our Lord took stripes and our sickness on Himself...Thank God for His perfect salvation from all sin...Thank God for the mind to pray and help us trust and obey Him...Thank God for Our Lord's Triumphant Resurrection...Thank God for His Mercy on my life...

...Oh God, what have I done to hurt my Dearest so? Is my failing the cause of his suffering? Can you really hear my cries for his healing even though I am frail and weak in faith? Have I become so hideous from my many poor choices in life that You cannot see me or hear me? What must I do to see Dearest healed in every holistic sense and living with me?...What must I DO?

Ok, Faith without works is dead...the just shall live by faith...by faith are we saved through grace and not of works lest any man should boast...

Alright, nothing I haven't heard before...trying to believe. 'AT the Cross...' at the very foot of the cross...the muddy, bloody, smelly, even the awful stench of the vinegar and decaying corpses not far away...I'll stay here and wait and hold on for Dearest's Life.

July 2024: April 14, 2025, for every other week, Chris has had 3-hour chemotherapy and a take-home, 48-hour IV in a shoulder bag. Constant dehydration is the enemy. His continuous pain in the abdomen is totally devastating. We have to stay close to home when we eat. He sits in a counter chair behind the pulpit and his voice is getting softer every day. Our doctor decided to give him a break with chemo on April 14, and at the next appointment, we will discuss his scans. April 28, the scans showed cancer cells active in his liver. The doctor suggested stopping the chemo, because it is not helping, but making his life worse. She suggested a pill, but the side effects will be far more intense. Chris told her no, he's done. We all hoped he would feel better without the chemo and may even have some years of normal life. His pain continues and he always feels sick. We met the doctor one last time, May 12, 2025, PA Griffie spoke to us to let us know what to expect in the end of life. We are to keep her informed on symptoms, and they will arrange hospice care when needed. 

Memorial Sunday, May 25, 2025, went wonderfully. Chris even wanted to go out to eat, but at the last minute, he wanted to stay home. Wednesday night Bible Study, May 28, went great, Chris was feeling great, but was wore out and wanted to go home. Thursday night, May 29, Chris woke up at 1 am and screamed. A sharp pain went under his right shoulder and around his back. This is the beginning of his death. He could not stand or walk on his own. Today is June 14, 2025, Hospice was called in on June 3, and now Chris is in a hospital bed in the den. His relatives have come and they will take turns to sit with him while I am at work. I need to work for the income. 

Thank God that He is the Supreme Ruler of all our unknowns.

I will Trust in God who knows I am dust. 

In Memory of My Dearest, June 17, 2025. He is alive and well with Our Lord Jesus. 

I can only hope for a ressurection...I remain dust. 

Mommy, It's Nita. May I come in? Mother's illness.

I knocked on Mom's bedroom door and said, "Mommy, it's Nita. May I come in?"

No answer for a long time.

"Ok. I'll come back a little later. Let me know if you want anything."

A little later, like one or two minutes, I knocked on Mom's bedroom door and said, "Mommy, it's Nita. May I come in now?"

No answer for a long time.

I'm an adult child, married and barren by choice, yet want somehow to enter Mommy's world. I want to, at least, freely give her my hands and feet. It's very difficult for a saint, like my mother, to receive any help at all much less from me, so she doesn't answer her bedroom door, and somehow I understand, because I too strive for self-reliance, independence.

I'm ok, but Mother is not.

One month later:

No more chemotherapy for Mommy. One treatment will temporarily stop the cancer growth and symptoms, but cruel doctors tell her she will not live past the weekend. 

I rush home, and I find a house full of people, some strangers, and some friends, and Mom is in a hospital bed in the living room sleeping. Everyone but Mom is telling me she is dying. People cry, wonder, and look at the house furnishings. I sit by Mom and sing old-shaped note songs she taught me and worry about disturbing her rest. 

"Mommy, are you comfortable? Am I disturbing you?"

No answer for a long time.

Then I help Mom wash, change, and sit comfortably in her recliner. She hates her bald head, scarves, and walker.

'Nit, I want you to gather all your things and leave, go home and get back to your job.'

"Yes, Mom. I love you."

Mom is ok, but I'm not. 

Because of Mom, I will be ok.