The Red Color

The Red Color

From a distance the bright red caught my attention, and I assumed it was a red bird. I approached it quietly for a closer look, hoping the bird wouldn't fly away. Surprisingly when I stepped on a twig, the noise did not disturb my stalked target. Moving closer to the red color, it was easy to see that the red was part of the tree.

Three red leaves hung together so closely, they looked like one.  They moved in harmony as the breeze blew, and something about their connection to each other drew me into their world.  Just as they were connected together and to the tree's limb, I felt connected to nature and the beauty it breathes.

Continuing my walk, other colors greeted me. The breeze blew, and with my spirit renewed, my feet didn't feel heavy anymore.

See that red in the center. What is it?

It's leaves... red leaves!

It's 3 red leaves on the Magnolia tree. Springtime in Texas!

@Copyright 2019 Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

The Massage

Originally posted January, 2012...

I sort of staggered out of the spa.  My legs were jello, and my mind like mush. But, wow... what a massage!

It was a gift to myself.  Premeditated.  Deliberate.  Cleansing.  I've only had three in my entire life, and I assure you, that is not enough.  I will go back.  I will return.  But, not today.

No, today I am recovering from that massage.  Nobody had told me to drink lots of water afterwards.  The therapist handed me a cup of cold water after the treatment, but I thought it was just a gracious gesture.  I poured it out in the bathroom.  (Which, by the way, I had wondered halfway through the massage, if I could make it through the hour WITHOUT going to the bathroom.)

Then I drove, (yes, I operated  heavy machinery), to Starbuck's and ordered "something dreamy-creamy", as I told the kid. "I just had a massage and I need 'something' ".  He suggested green tea, strong green tea, but I opted for coffee, decaf, and decided on the pumpkin spice, no whipped cream.  He looked at me rather funny.  Or, was it the other way around?  Don't know, and I really don't remember walking back to the car.  But, I must have because I ended up at a friend's house, and she and I chatted about... about... hmmm, well... I really don't remember that either.

I did tell her that my experience was "wonderful", and she should try it.  She looked at me rather funny.  Or, was it the other way around?  Don't know, but, we both chuckled, well, sort of.  I did my best to calm her qualms about half-stripping, crawling under the covers, and allowing someone "experienced" to rub their oily hands all over her body.  I reassured her that the dim lights, and the soft, mood music just made it that much easier to relax.

Not so sure that I had convinced her, but convinced I had given it my all, I swigged my last drop of coffee and asked to use her bathroom.  It had only been thirty minutes ago that I staggered into the spa's bathroom, but never mind.  When a bathroom is handy, take advantage of it.  Right?  That's what Mama always said.

Now feeling good about myself, and so glad that I had finally done something for "me", I reached for the soap and glanced in the mirror.  Oh, my GOSH!  Double... double.. GOOD GOSH!  What in the world had happened to me? 

I stared at mascara and eye shadow streaks all down my face, rubbed off makeup exposing my naked face, smushed-crushed bangs sticking to my forehead, and my "Come-here" coral lipstick smeared all over my chin.  I looked like... well... I looked like.. well... I looked like crap!

No wonder that kid at Starbucks looked at me so funny!  No wonder my friend looked at me questioningly!  No wonder I couldn't talk her into a massage!!!  No wonder, indeed!!!

The mirror didn't lie.  It never does.  "Well, what do you do now, Cindy Lou, you fool?"

Nothing... nothing at all, but laugh and crawl out of the bathroom and beg for mercy and a make-over!  Thank goodness this was a long-time, dear, understanding friend who loves me and accepts me for who I am, regardless of what I look like.  We laughed and laughed, and laughed until we cried.  And then, I went home, and I laughed some more.

Now, that I look back at that afternoon of surprises, I can see that I've learned quite a lot about life and massages.  I whole-heartily recommend message therapy by a trained professional. It's a healing experience for body and soul.  Just be prepared, better than I was:

Wear minimal make-up. I had forgotten that you lay face-down which is hard on a made-up face. 

Be aware that you may cry.  I did:  big tears that I couldn't stop.

Afterwards, drink lots of water.   Yes, it makes you go "potty", but that's a good thing.

Then, go straight home.  Do not go into any  Starbuck's.  Do not pass "Go".  Do not go visit a friend.  Go straight home!

And, finally... this is very important... for heaven's sake, before you leave the spa, before you say "good-bye", before you face the world... look in the mirror!!!

Now... go book yourself a massage, and call me afterwards.  I want to hear ALL about it!

Sincerely me,  always me, and re-discovering me...
Cindy Lou

p.s.  
Laugh, laugh, laugh... and, allow others to join in!  It's so much more fun with a buddy! 



@Copyright 2012, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Heaven & Hope

In her last few days of waking up from fourteen hour naps, she confirmed that there is a heaven.  Many gifts she gave to me, gifts for me to keep.  But this gift, this gift I dare not keep to myself.  This gift is to be shared.  So, allow me to share my Aunt Lucy with you...

Aunt Lucy had no children of her own, so she treated us nieces and nephews as royalty.  And, when her health crisis struck, we were there for her:  taking turns sitting with her at the hospital and the nursing facility.  The doctors told us that most likely she would live only a few more weeks, but Aunt Lucy had other ideas.  She lingered for more than three months.

Those months wore on and on.  We were exhausted from our sleepless nights, we were frazzled from dealing with incompetent health care workers, and we were brokenhearted that this was how Aunt Lucy was living her last days on earth.  She had no pain, surprisingly.  For this we were grateful.

Since I did not handle the night shift very well (too many noises and interruptions), the morning shift became mine.  I was there as the morning light sifted through the blinds, wondering what each day would bring.  And to my amazement, Aunt Lucy's waking murmurs intimately described what she was experiencing.

With eyelids still closed from sleeping, she clearly spoke, "Oh, how beautiful... oh, how beautiful!" over and over again.  Not just one day, but several days in a row.  As this new phenomenon continued, her intensity of sharing grew.  I would sit as close to her as possible, taking in her every word, making sure I understood what she was saying.  I understood the words.  I never questioned their meaning.  I only questioned why I was the  chosen one to be by her side during these times.

Another morning as she awakened, she clearly said,  "Oh, there's Mama.  She's waving to me.  She looks so pretty.  She's standing by the gate.  Oh, how beautiful... oh, how beautiful!"  Then she would drift back to sleep for a short, peaceful nap.

Now, I know it is just our human nature to see our mothers as we near death.  It is a completion of  life's cycle. But the next vision she shared makes even the skeptics stop and give pause.  Lucy saw someone else awaiting her... someone else waving to her.  It was her Aunt Claudie.

The family had not told Lucy about her aunt's passing away three months prior.  Not to agitate or upset her, we had kept it secret from her that we buried her Aunt Claudie on the day of  Lucy's own surgery.  It was a difficult, sad day for us...  burying one Auntie, maybe saying goodbye to another.  But, we rallied together and, somehow, kept going.

In her vision, Claudie also was standing by the gate, waving... "Oh, there's Aunt Claudie... She looks so pretty.  What a pretty dress.  Oh, how beautiful... oh, how beautiful!"  Then she continued to awaken and become part of this earthly world again, her visions fading and her smile weakening.  Clearly, our beloved aunt was straddling the line between two worlds.  She drifted from one to the other with ease and grace, and all we could do was hold her hand and offer her chips of ice.

As for me, my spirit soared with joy and the affirmation that there is a heaven, and that I will see my loved ones once again!  But, my tears could not stop, and I could not define the line between tears of sadness and tears of joy.  How do you separate the two since they are joined by the heart?  I knew that I had been given a glimpse of glory and of what is, and what is to come for all of us believers!  But that gift came with a price, and it cost me my Aunt... cost all of us our beloved Lucy.  To this day, I still think, "What an incredible experience given to me in that one small room, stuck in a corner, in a nursing home in the little town of Calera, Oklahoma!"

The last comment Aunt Lucy shared made me dig in my Bible.  And sure enough, I found in *Revelation 5:8 what she was experiencing.  "Oh, how beautiful..." she whispered.  And smiling she said, "Mmmm... it smells so good."  "Can you smell it?"  she asked.  "It smells so sweet.  Oh, oh... oh, how beautiful!"

And, then late one evening... her earthly body wore out, and she left us. Her spirit went on to that beautiful place, but she did not leave us hopeless.  I know that she joined Jesus, and I know that she had loved ones waiting for her, because she told me so.  What a joyous reunion it must have been... one planned and blessed by God!

So, my friend, since Aunt Lucy so willingly and lovingly shared who she was and what she saw... I pass this on to you.  I don't want her to be forgotten, and her message must live on.   She gave us all many gifts, but the greatest gift of all is the gift of hope!   There is a Savior, and He has prepared a place for us... a beautiful one with my loving Grandmother and my aunties... one that smells so sweet... and one that has a gate!

Now, that's a promise... "Oh, oh... oh, how beautiful!"

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou


* "...and they were holding golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints."  --Holy Bible, Revelation 5:8  (This is what Aunt Lucy was smelling that smelled so sweet.)

 
"Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Trust in God, trust also in me.  In my Father's house are many rooms;  if it were not so, I would have told you.  I am going there to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am."  --Holy Bible, John 14:1-3
(This verse is one Aunt Lucy used to comfort us before her surgery.  She quoted it from memory.)


Verses for reference:


"For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God..."  --Holy Bible... Romans 3: 23

"For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." 
-- Holy Bible... Romans 6:23

"Jesus answered, 'I am the way and the truth and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me.' "   --Holy Bible... John 14: 6

"That if you confess with your mouth, 'Jesus is Lord,' and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved."  --Holy Bible... Romans 10:9




@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Heart Attack! Chapter 3...

Chapter Three - The Blue Room

Blue.  Everything in the room seemed blue:  the wall color, the color of the light bulbs, the chairs, the nurses outfits, my husband's hospital gown, even the dirty linen hamper.  "That's good.  Blue is his favorite color.  It's a calming color.  Hope it works."  If the color had soothed him, I couldn't tell.  He seemed agitated and... well, verbal!  Richard was verbal, very, very much so.  What HAD they done to him???

His tone of voice was different.  By that I mean that he didn't sound gentle and calm, his normal demeanor. He was rather hostile!  This man whom I had been with for nearly forty years, and had seen angry only once in my life, now had an attitude that was shaking the walls!  Hostility and irritability were behind his every statement:  not at all like my easy going Richard.  The nurses refused to let it bother them. They just kept on working and let it roll off their backs... their navy blue backs.

Ahh, but he was alive:  changed, maybe... but alive!  He did welcome me, and let me kiss him.  His cheek felt warm and damp.  My tears blended with his whiskers, and our words of love spoken to each other softened the attitude in his room.  The blue lights didn't seem so cold now.   Hugging him was awkward:  too many hoses, tubes, and wires, but I did manage to do a head snuggle with him, and the earthy fragrance of my man confirmed that I was "home":  another journey behind me.

The nurses updated me and answered my questions, but no one could make me understand why Richard had not told me or our son about his chest pain.  No one could explain why he drove himself to the hospital rather than call 911 for assistance, and no one could explain why he insisted to keep me uninformed about his admittance into the hospital... no one, and no one understood the anger and hurt that welled up inside me.  It wasn't about me, or it should not have been, but I felt like a dagger had been jabbed into my heart.  There we were, the two of us:  both with wounded hearts, but only one of us was being treated.

"Looks like you dodged the bullet this time," nodded his cardiologist.  "You are a very fortunate man. Two weeks of nothing but taking it easy.  Come to  my office in four weeks for your echo cardiogram and follow-up appointment, and in the meantime we'll get you started on the cardio rehab program here at the hospital.  Take your meds and adjust your diet:  beef just once a week and lower your sodium intake.  Stay away from the fast food restaurants.  If you have any any chest pains, take one nitroglycerin tablet.  If after five minutes you still have chest pains, take another nitroglycerin pill.  Then if your chest pain continues, call 911."  I elbowed, uh, poked, Richard.  "If you have any other problems whatsoever, call me."

Well, we made it through our hospital stay, and Richard did simmer down, eventually.  Me, too... it just has taken me longer.  It is now six weeks since the attack, and we are much older, and we are wiser.  The past is behind us, but always with us.  The future is a big question mark, and the present is here, but only for a moment.  So, while I have the opportunity, I thank God that Richard is still with us, and that he is as healthy as he is.  I thank God for the medical personnel that took care of him and saved his life, and I thank God for the friends & family that helped us make it through this frightening time.   They say to pick yourself up and keep going, but this was one time where neither one of us was able to do it on our own.  Praise be to God for His provision and for keeping us safe, and me... sane.

Well, I guess that is debatable.  Like I told Richard, my wonderful, stubborn, hard-headed, hard to understand martian, who I love dearly... "I'm gonna' get you well, and then for not telling me you were sick... I'm gonna' kill you !!!!!"  Yes, survived another crisis... now older, fatter (I'm a stress eater.), and just worn-out, but considering painting something blue.  They say it has a calming effect.

So, here I sit writing my story.  The rest of the time I'm sincerely trying to be a good wife and nurse.  Neither one is easy, but I'm grateful to have the chance to try.

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou

Typical heart attack symptoms:

Chest discomfort or pain

Upper body pain

Stomach pain

Shortness of breath

Anxiety

Lightheadedness

Sweating

Nausea and vomiting

Heart attack symptoms vary widely.  For instance, you may have only minor chest pain while someone else has excruciating pain.

One thing applies to everyone, though:  If you suspect you’re having a heart attack, call for emergency medical help immediately!  Don’t waste time trying to diagnose heart attack symptoms yourself.

Additional heart attack symptoms in women:

Women may have all, none, many or a few of the typical heart attack symptoms.  For women, the most common heart attack symptom is still some type of pain, pressure or discomfort in the chest.  But women are more likely than are men to also have heart attack symptoms without chest pain, such as:

Neck, jaw, shoulder, upper back or abdominal discomfort

Shortness of breath

Nausea or vomiting

Abdominal pain or “heartburn”

Sweating

Lightheadedness or dizziness

Unusual or unexplained fatigue

For more information follow this link:
http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/heart-attack/DS00094/DSECTION=symptoms

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Heart Attack! Chapter 2...

Chapter Two - The Journey

"Husband... heart attack... Two hours away... take a deep breath, Cindy."  "I can't..."

Logic took over my actions as emotions quivered my thinking.  Throwing belongings into my suitcase, I dialed my brother's phone number, praying he would answer his phone.  He did, but even big brother's voice could not abate the fear that arose in my throat.  He said he would call his wife and see if she were available to drive the 3 hour trip to stay with Mama until he could get there the next day.  Of course, and thankfully... she agreed and told me not to worry about Mama:  she would get there as fast as she could.  God bless her.  God bless him.

Telling Mama that I had to go without her and leave her behind, broke her heart:  mine, too... but there was no way I could take care of her and be at the hospital also.  She cried more than I, but I could not take the time to console her.  Nor could I break down:  too much to do and too many miles to travel.

The highways between here and there were all too familiar, and the expected speed traps were no where in sight.  Truckers moved aside for me as if someone had gone ahead and prepared my pathway, and my gas tank I had filled just the day before.  It all seemed like deja vu, only this time I was driving in the opposite direction of the previous emergencies, and this time.... well, this time was different.

I was worried about our son.  He would be there at the hospital by himself, shouldering this burden alone; and with his one month old baby, he was already on emotional overload.   Asking family friends to sit and wait with Steve was the one thing I as a mother could do.  I feared the worse, hoped for the best, but still knew anything could happen, and I didn't want our son to face it alone.  He needed someone to lean on... just in case.  Gratefully, the friends I called dropped what they were doing and rushed to the hospital.  They hurried, then had to wait.  But they did.  God bless them.

As I entered the city, one of my ministers from church called to tell me he was almost at the hospital and would see me there.  I fought back the fear.. and the tears.  God bless him, too.

"Oh, God... please don't forsake us.  Please watch over Richard, and his medical team.  Have mercy on him, Lord.  He's such a good man.  Please take care of Steve.  Please watch over Mama.  Thank you God for friends, for family, for medical professionals.  Oh, God... please help... please.  Help me be strong, once again... Oh, God..."

The folks at the information desk were helpful, but very slow talkers.  They didn't realize I was in panic mode.  I just wanted them to point and give me simple directions to CCU:  I walked away from them as they were still talking.  Rounding the corner  I saw a volunteer I knew, but I didn't dare slow down because my son was standing waiting for me, and there by his side was his lovely little wife. 

With strained voice he said, "Do you want the facts or the chronological order of happenings?"  He's an engineer, just like his dad.  I replied, "The facts."  "He's stable.  The cardiac team found nothing else of concern on their second look at Dad's arteries."  He proceeded to tell about the heart attack, the one stent, the shocking, the CPR, Code Blue, and his dad's stubbornness.  That I already knew about!

"He's stable." pounded in my heart... I could see him.  I could hold him.  I could kiss him.  I could scold him for not telling me or anyone else that he was in trouble.  But this last one should wait.  My husband was alive, and he was "stable".  For this I rejoiced!

I hugged my kids.  I hugged my friends who so lovingly supported us and thanked them for being there with Steve, for Steve, and for Richard and me.  I wiped off my tears, but they kept rolling.  And then I took off for the CCU. 

"I don't know which room he's in," but my feet kept walking anyway.  As the automatic doors opened, a surge of strength kept me upright, but fear and anger chiseled away at my very core.  Without introducing myself, or even speaking to them, the nurses pointed to his room.  They had been watching for me... "the missing wife," and they continued watching me as I entered his room.

(to be continued...)



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Heart Attack! Didn't I Tell You?

Chapter One - The Phone Call

Note to the reader:  I'm asking myself why I'm sharing something so personal and intimate about our family, and I guess there are two reasons.  #1.  It could be beneficial to you or someone you love:  perhaps you can learn from our mistakes.  #2.  Perhaps I can learn from our mistakes.

Sometimes you get hit hard, right in the gut, and your response is and can only be... a gasp for air. 

It wasn't me who had the heart attack, but my husband.  At age 62, he seemed the picture of health:  one without a family history of heart disease, and a man who loves to golf and play tennis.  That's what he did the eve of his heart attack:  play tennis.  The day before, he played several rounds of golf, and had chest pains afterwards.  The pain subsided after a few hours, so the next day, he pretended that nothing was wrong.  He played tennis for an hour, and then quit. 

He came home with pain, and stayed awake with pain all night until 5:00 a.m. the next morning, Thursday, January 6, 2011.  Then he drove himself to the emergency room which is about fifteen minutes away.  The medical people easily recognized the symptoms and asked him which family members they should call.  He said, "No one.... don't bother them.  My wife's out of town."  I was.  It was true.  I was two hours away in Oklahoma with my mother, caring for her, but that was no reason to not call me. 

The nurses and doctors pushed further, "Mr. Hodges, you are having a heart attack right now, and you have been having one for some time.  We're taking you up to the Cath Lab immediately.  We need to call your family and let them know.  "Who can we call?"  Still, he stubbornly said, "No.... don't bother them."

What on earth was he thinking???  The man was having a heart attack, and he wouldn't let his family know about it!

Communication in our marriage, all thirty-eight years, has always been an issue.  I give too much info, or at least I used to, and he gives too little.  He has never been much for conversation.  Over the course of time, my conversations and sentences have shortened because I can tell when he's on overload and received too much information.  You know how we women are, we can tell when we are being "tuned out", and you know how men are:  they think we just ramble.  So, sometime or somewhere, I just sort of quit trying.  I felt that having to pull and prod him just to gather information was a waste of energy.  I don't know what he felt... perhaps he felt that I was intrusive.  Perhaps he just didn't want me to know more than he offered.  Perhaps he felt I already knew what I needed to know... perhaps. 

Or perhaps he was trying to protect me.  Our last fifteen months dealing with my mother's health issues had stretched us beyond all boundaries of normalcy.  We were exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally, plus we were still trying to figure out the next part of her life:  ours, too.  We had lived away from home and away from each other more in that time period than we had ever done so, and thousands of those hours were spent at hospitals and other medical care facilities with Mama.  Perhaps he was still in denial that the heart attack was really happening, and that this time HE was the patient, and I, once again, the caregiver.

I don't know what he was thinking.  Our son doesn't know, either.  He was just ten minutes away and could have, would have driven his dad to the ER, or would have called 911.  Our son is just as bewildered as I about his dad's silence.

The cardiologist found one artery 95% clogged and inserted one stent.  The other arteries were only mildly blocked and required no stents, thank goodness.  Once stable, my husband was rolled down to his room in CC (Cardiac Care).  Soon upon his arrival, his heart rhythms were so out of sync, that the cardiac team had to shock his heart and then perform CPR:  otherwise, Code Blue.

That's when his nurse became emphatic, "Mr. Hodges... we have to call someone!  Let me call your wife or your son!"  My husband, annoyed from being awakened from such "good sleep" as he called it, just wanted to go back to sleep.  So, he agreed and gave her permission to call.  She did immediately!

About 10:30  that Thursday morning I received a phone call from a very persuasive woman claiming to be a cardiac nurse, and that my husband had just had a heart attack!  She continued telling me that they had to do CPR on him, and shock his heart, and that they were at that time taking him back up to the Cath Lab to see if they had missed anything!  She said that I needed to be there!  As she was hanging up the phone she said that she would then call our son to alert him.

With the sound of her voice reeling in my head, it never occurred to me to doubt the reality of this phone call.  Immediately I tried to figure out what I should do first.  There I was taking care of my mother who couldn't stay long by herself without assistance, but now I needed to be in Texas caring for my husband, my dearly beloved, hard-headed, hard-to-understand, stubborn husband who had just had a heart attack.  I needed to be and wanted to be with him, beside him...  whether he made it through this heart attack or... not. 

"Why, oh why hadn't I called him the night before?"  It had been two days since we had last talked.  Now it didn't make any sense at all that we hadn't phoned each other, but earlier I had felt that if he wanted to talk or had something to say, he would have called me.   "Why, oh, why hadn't I called him just to check on him?  All I had to do was pick up the phone ."  "Why's?, "Why not's?", and "What now's?"  kept flooding my mind.

I felt like I had been punched in the gut... hard... really, really hard.


(to be continued...)



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

And She Was Born, Chapter 2

Chapter Two - "The 2nd Floor"

Unbeknown to me, my daughter-in-law had been in labor all day, but went to work anyway, not knowing that it was "the real thing"!  My son played an hour-long game of volleyball that evening, while "Mommie" stayed home and packed her suitcase between contractions.  By 9:00 p.m. they decided that maybe they should go to the hospital, "this just might be serious".  Do ya, think???

Hence, the text message sent to me, "We at hospital.  She may be early...!"

I think I was kind of noisy:  "Errr---Screech!  Slam!  High-heeled clomp-clomps!"  I ran to the ER desk, and some gracious woman led me through the hall ways to the elevator that would take me to the maternity wing.  I was on the ride of my life, and as the elevator doors closed I said goodbye to my life as it had been, and with their opening I said hello to my greatest adventure ever.  The profound words of a budding new grandmother then blurted out from me as I viewed the 2nd floor, "sheez... now, uh, which way did she say to go???"

When I found my brave kids, it was quite obvious to me that they weren't kids anymore, and that I was no longer a young adult.  We were all stepping up to a new level and a higher status in our adult lives, and this new little life coming to join us would challenge us all to rise to the calling.  I saw my son hovering over his lovely wife, tenderly talking to her, and calmly reading the numbers on the monitor.  I saw my daughter-in-law quietly endure the contractions, then mildly say, "that was a big one."  I heard the nurse announce,  "this baby is coming tonight, probably before midnight!"  And off they rolled them to the birthing room.

At that point the situation escalated so rapidly that my head still spins.  I stepped out of the birthing room while the epidural was given and waited in the waiting area. I understand that within minutes the epidural took effect and eased Mommie's pain, but our baby girl's heartbeat dropped rapidly.  I waited and waited for what seemed eternities far too long.  Then I received an alarming text, "Heartbeat low.  csection.  rite now."  "Her parents around somewhere.  please try find." 

(to be continued...)



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

I Am a Tree

"I am a tree.
My roots grow deep.
I'm planted by The River... The River of Life.
Hosanna's in the wind.
Hosanna's in the rain.
Hosanna's in the air I breathe.
My life He does sustain."
                                   --Cindy Lou Hodges


For months this song was my mantra:  not a happy tune, but a mournful confirmation that I could weather the storm that raged around me.  I sang it to myself while she lay in the hospital flat on her back.  I murmured it as she vacillated from one surgery to the next, from critical condition to serious condition, then agonizingly back to critical.  I remembered it as she lingered near death from staff infections, and it was one of the songs I sang as I crossed the state line commuting back & forth from my home to her multiple care facilities.  It was on my lips as my own personal lullaby at three o'clock in the mornings, and at times it boomed out of me as a defense against the enemy of hopelessness.  As she was fighting for life:  I was fighting for hope... enough for both of us.

That seems like just yesterday, and that yesterday seemed like an eternity.  Only God knows how distraught we all were, and how close we were to quitting.  On the inside I struggled for sanity, while on the outside I struggled for courage.  Taking each step required stepping out in faith and numerous reminders to myself that I could do it... one step at a time.

Whenever setbacks & disappointments knocked the wind out of me, the vision of a mighty tree came to mind, and I imagined my feet sinking deeper and deeper into the solid ground.  I imagined my care giving as an oasis such as the top of a tree is sanctuary for living creatures.  When I felt the world dumping on me, as certain animals seek out trees to mark their territory, I realized that that was just part of being alive... part of being a tree. It would not destroy me, and it might even make me stronger. Time & time again, I would once more try to rise to the task awaiting me.  One more time to encourage myself.  One more time to believe... "I am a tree... my roots go deep.  I'm planted by The River".

Only God knows how... but, here we are, one year after the fall & initial broken hip.  We are home at her house... together, and life is different now.  It is sweeter, and it is easier than it has been. The infections are suppressed.  The surgeries are over.  The hospital bed no longer cradles her immobile, tortured body, and the parade of caregivers has calmed down to a slow, steady pace of two a week.  Sleep has returned once again, and this "welcomed back" friend allows me to sleep through the earlier known three o'clock awakenings.  I even dream again, and instead of fear and darkness, my dreams take me to happy places.

Yes, life is more precious to me now.  Today I saw bluebirds out the kitchen window, and I called Mama to come look.  She struggled to get out of her wheelchair so that she could see the birds flying from the oak tree to the blue bird houses.  Those beautiful blue feathered friends were scouting out the perfect place for their autumn nests:  the perfect place to lay their tiny blue eggs.  That made her smile.  Made us both smile.

Then later, as I finished showering, I heard talking coming from somewhere in the house.  I couldn't distinguish who or what it was, so I opened the bathroom door to better hear.  "Who was she talking to?  Was she watching TV?"  Then I heard... it was singing:  one of the lovliest sounds I have ever heard.  With a voice as clear as a songbird, and with the steadiness of a flowing river, my Mama, Ms. Dimple was singing once again.  It wasn't a song of mourning.  It wasn't a cry for help.  It was a simple song of joy, unintended for my ears to hear.  But, I did, and I'm so glad.  I'm not sure who enjoyed it more:  her, God, or me.  But, it was one of those heavenly moments when all nature is in perfect harmony, and everything in the world seems all right.  It was music to my ears... sweet, wonderful music!

Like I said... life is sweeter now... for her, for me... for all of us!
"I am a tree... my roots grow deep."
God is my strength.
Of that, I am sure.

Cindy Lou


"Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.  But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.  And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper."  ---Psalm 1:1-3  Holy Bible, King James Version

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