Her glad tomorrow was today
There waits for me a glad tomorrow
Where gates of pearl swing open wide
And when I've passed this vale of sorrow
I'll dwell upon the other side.
Someday, beyond the reach of mortal ken
Someday, God only knows just where and when
The wheels of mortal life shall all stand still
And I shall go to dwell on Zion's hill.
Someday I'll hear the angels singing
Beyond the shadows of the tomb
And all the bells of heaven ringing
While saints are singing "Home, sweet home."
Someday my labors will be ended,
And all my wand'rings will be o'er
And all earth's broken ties be mended
And I shall sigh and weep no more.
Someday the dark clouds will be rifted
And all the night of gloom be past
And all life's burdens will be lifted
The day of rest shall dawn at last.
Someday, beyond the reach of mortal ken
Someday, God only knows just where and when
The wheels of mortal life shall all stand still
And I shall go to dwell on Zion's hill.
Waving goodbye
In late September, a bunch of us went to the beach together for four days.
We'd solidified our plans (read: paid our money) weeks before anyone knew of my mom's illness. Naturally there was a fair amount of angst over whether we'd be able to keep our reservation.
To quote our Erica, who is an underwriter: Always buy trip insurance.
But Mom was more than holding her own in late September, unlike now, when she is down to her last few days with us.
As I write, she is sleeping. She will wake soon and ask for water, and I'll give it to her via a little sponge on a stick, soaked in her travel mug of ice water.
She will want the sponge re-dipped two or three times, say Delicious, and go back to sleep.
Speaking of water, for our beach getaway we rented a large house in Holden Beach (Supply), North Carolina. Just south of Wilmington.
The house was across the street from those that back up directly on the beach. We could set out with chairs and umbrellas and towels and, after walking past a few houses to reach the access path, be on beach sand within three minutes.
The back of our house faced a marsh and, in the near distance, the Intracoastal Waterway where pleasure boats glided.
There were cranes and herons and other birds living in the marsh, and several times we saw deer.
Brittany and Ember joined us, as Andrew was still in Alabama completing Officer Training School.
(He was commissioned on Thursday and graduated today, and he's home now with his girls.)
Chad and Erica came along, while Audrey, due to work commitments, had to join the party a day late.
Stephanie, Joel, and the children came for one night and most of the two days on either side of it.
I had done a lot of cooking beforehand, not wanting to waste beach time in the kitchen and definitely not wanting to go out to eat.
I'd made a recipe of ranger cookies, which makes about 140 good-sized treats. I filled a huge jar with them and had enough in reserve to re-fill the jar twice.
We went to the store in Supply -- for supplies, hahaha -- and got stuff like eggs and milk and butter and fresh fruits and vegetables and ice cream and I don't know what all, but it was a lot.
Everything we needed was at our fingertips. On the first night in the beach house, we had shepherd's pie with cornbread.
It was pretty great.
The next night we had marinated chicken done on the grill with Andouille sausage and colorful peppers, and big baked potatoes and a huge salad complete with croutons.
Night three was baked spaghetti but I'm probably boring you so I'll stop with the menus.
The weather was perfect and the ocean just as marvelous and mysterious and metaphorical as always.
I can sit and watch the waves for hours. I never get enough of that sight and that sound.
The only thing that drives me indoors is the sun; I can't take too much of that. So I like to go down to the shore and sit in the early morning, and walk on the beach in the evening and even at night.
We all did all of those things. The children were consumed with joy.
Children on the beach is just special. Their shrieks! Every time a little wave rolled up on their feet. The wild splashing and cavorting and the endless search for shells.
Of course my thoughts were with Mom back in Greenville, and no sooner had we reached home than I re-packed my suitcase and returned to her bedside.
She'd had a difficult stretch in my absence but there would be some good days left.
Those days are behind us now and we are in the thick of it.
Mom says she has peace.
When she can, she still talks and laughs with my sister and me, and the occasional friend, and whichever grandchild has dropped by to see Grandma one more time.
This evening, two of my nieces came by to sing to their grandma. Also there was a hospice representative, and she asked Mom if there was anything she could get for her.
Barbecue ribs would be nice, she said, with cole slaw and a big glass of sweet tea.
We all laughed and then Mom regaled us with a ditty:
Shoo Fly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy
Makes your eyes light up and your tummy say howdy.
Ever the card. The life of the party.
Just as it was when we put together our beach trip, all of our plans are in place. This time there's no danger of them changing.
When the time comes, we think we know what we'll feel and think and say, and how we will weep and rejoice and remember.
But all we really know is that the wave will reach the shore and, having come, it will go, taking our loved one with it.
Good thing we know The One Who walks on water.
And that is all for now.
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Happy Weekend