~ Sunset Maui, Hawaii ~

The first part of this blog is a repeat so that the time line begins with the time Karen last entered the hospital until she went Home. Although it was emotionally taxing, it has been such a release to gather together all my notes and thoughts into one place. It is and has been my prayer that the story of her last days sprinkled with stories of how we arrived there will bring glory to God and be an encouragement to all who read it.

Please feel free to share anything you read here and for that matter the blog itself. On that note there will be one more update after this. After much prayer and counsel I have decided to start a new blog. It will be about our lives now and where God has brought us since Karen’s passing.

The last thing I would like to say before I go into the story is Thank You. I cannot find the words to express how blessed our family felt and continues to feel, even in the darkest days. The prayers, cards, meals, financial support, the shoulders to lean on and to cry on, all of it and more, leave me speechless. You made a difference in our lives and impacted us well beyond what you may think.

Saturday, October 27, 2008 – Karen entered Newnan Hospital

Karen thinks she is “leaking”. Coming to her side and pulling back the blanket I found the sheets and her night gown soaked on the side where she had the paracentesis. We quickly got a compress on the “leak” and I began cleaning up while Karen called the emergency after hour’s service for her doctor. Karen, knowing well what questions they would ask had already taken her temperature, etc. We were advised it wasn’t common for there to be leakage from the site but it does occur and that she should come to the hospital so they can evaluate the situation. It was about 01:00 in the morning Saturday, 27 October.

Only two times since Karen was diagnosed was I not by her side whenever she went for a doctor visit, test or treatment. That morning would be third. She insisted I go to bed because she wanted me to go to work. We both felt this would be a simple check up and she would be sent back home.

Karen’s mother and dad (Carl) took her to our local emergency room. After getting the sheets changed and laundry started I did as I was told and went to bed. Waking a few hours later to a call from Carl that they were going to admit her because she got nauseated and there was a small amount of blood present. They planned to observe the situation but still there was no great cause for concern. Karen was nauseated almost daily for over 2 ½ years, so it became part of our norm.

At this point, I called in to tell my co-workers I wouldn’t be at work due to Karen’s admittance. Her mom and dad stayed with her for the early morning hours and I stayed in touch by phone. The hospital isn’t more than 5 minutes from our house. I got the children up and fed them breakfast. Karen’s mother called about 09:00 and said Karen wanted me there. We arranged a swap with Carl coming over to watch the children while I came over the hospital.

When I arrived she was awake and very alert. She wasn’t hooked to any monitors and in a very basic room. Shortly after my arrival the doctor arrived and we were ready to go home. However the doctor said he felt it best for her to stay a least one day to make sure the leaking had stopped and for general observation. When the doctor left, Karen’s mother left to go be with the children.
Karen and I were planning childcare and lunch. She was hungry having not eaten since dinner the day before. The time was about 11:00. The food arrived and I was nauseated just looking at it. It was a the biggest hot dog I had ever seen; overcooked (burned really) and drowned in chili with a side of onions. I asked the lady who was still serving other rooms if there was a possibility of getting something else. A short time later she returned with a grilled chicken sandwich.

Karen felt she needed to use the bathroom before lunch and got herself out bed and to a portable toilet that had been placed next to her bed. We were joking in disbelief that if you weren’t sick when you came to the hospital you certainly would be after eating the food. Our conversation turned to other foods (we both love to eat!) and if I should go and get her something else. She was still seated when she said something’s not right and that was it. She stopped mid sentence and her body went limp. I lunged forward and I caught her. There was no pulse and no response from her; just like that she was gone. I couldn’t find a button to push for help so I started screaming. Screaming like a manic.

It seemed like a long time before anyone came and the first person on the scene was the lady that delivered lunch. She just stared at me holding Karen. I started screaming at her to get a nurse or doctor. Again it seemed like a long time before anyone came, but it was probably only a matter of a minute or less. The whole time I’m screaming and holding Karen.

A nurse came and quickly realized what was going on and then there were nurses everywhere. They got Karen back in the bed and then tried to usher me out of the room but I wasn’t having it and they quickly abandoned any efforts of getting me to leave. I called Karen’s mother and told her to get there as quickly as she could.

The nurses began chest compressions and in short order the nurse closest to Karen was startled when Karen reached up, grabbed her arm and said in a firm voice “THAT HURTS!”

At this point I spoke with Karen and she spoke back. I don’t remember what was said other than I love you. The doctor was back on the scene shortly after. He pulled me aside and said he was admitting Karen to ICU and calling a gastroenterologist to come in and see if he could help determine what was going on.

The same doctor that caused Karen and me to leave Newnan in the first place, seeking more competent medical care. My response was quick, “Anybody but him”. I was told this was the only gastroenterologist licensed to practice at the hospital. I said I would have her flown by helicopter to another hospital. His response equally as quick, “She won’t survive the flight”.

I’ve never felt such a rush and range of emotions like I was feeling at this point. I despised this doctor. My best friend, wife, mother of my children in this man’s hands; I begged God for another way.

At this point, I need to back up to Friday afternoon, May 20, 2005. Karen had endured more than two months of scans, tests, doctor visits etc and her health was only getting worse. We were hoping the doctor appointment on this day would shed some light on what was going on as we were supposed to have the results of the liver biopsy.

We were not prepared for what we heard or didn’t hear. The doctor said I have the results but they really don’t tell me much other than further testing is needed. I remember directly and forcefully saying something like “You’re telling me that after weeks of testing and now a preliminary report from the biopsy you have nothing to tell us but wait for more tests?” His response was, “Yes that is correct.” So what I’m hearing is that you still have no clue what’s going on with my wife’s health and the fact that she now looks nine months pregnant we’re supposed just to wait for more tests? His reply was “At this point yes.” I went on … all the tests and the report you’re looking at right now tell you nothing but to advise us to wait longer. His reply, it tells me we need to do more testing. I was indignant at his seemingly lackadaisical responses to my questions.

I asked him if he was actually looking at Karen, can’t you see that her health is slipping more by the day now? He agreed and said and this I can quote verbatim, “It could be anything or nothing”.

Karen and I both sat in disbelief at what we felt at this point was absolute incompetence. I told him our relationship was over and that I was taking her to Emory the next day. His response was that’s an excellent idea, I’ll have my staff gather all the records for you to take there.

Once we gathered all the records, I took Karen home. I opened up the report that the doctor felt was inconclusive. The result of the test was only three words typed in block letters:

POORLY DEFINED NEOPLASMS

I turned on the computer entered these words into a search engine and in seconds I was reading website after website, most with ominous words like tumors, invasive and carcinomas (cancer).

Saturday morning, May 21, 2005, we kissed our children goodbye for what would become the first of many doctor visits. This is also the first time we ever left them. We headed to the emergency room at Emory in Atlanta. When we arrived they did the usual test and put Karen in a type of holding room while they waited for blood test results etc…

I’m not a doctor so despite my findings from the night before I felt we had nothing to tell them other than she isn’t well, her abdomen is swelling by the day and the doctor she had been seeing wasn’t able to help her.

After several hours, the ER doctor was preparing to release Karen. I remember well his opening line as he walked into the room, “You appear to be doing fine, your coloring and blood pressure all check out so at this point we going to release you” … at that I stopped him in mid-sentence and said something along the lines of there is no way we’re leaving here until we have answers. I gave him the same report we received less than 24 hours ago. The report that told the doctor in Newnan “nothing” made the ER doctor eyes the size of golf balls. He immediately asked if anyone had discussed these results with us and we explained we were told that nothing could be determined from those results and more testing was needed. The ER doctor immediately excused himself from the room.

A very short time later two more doctors entered the room and told us Karen’s liver was extremely sick and they would be admitting her right away for more testing. Finally, someone who agrees Karen is sick.

Speaking in the flesh, if I would have been in reaching distance of the gastroenterologist from Newnan I could have strangled him without much thought.

Even the doctors at Emory, some of the brightest in the business, took from May 21 to May 25 to diagnose her. In the weeks following Karen’s diagnosis she forgave all the doctors who misdiagnosed her. It was the way she forgave them that was such a testimony to me.

She NEVER blamed the doctors and in one case, set up an appointment to see one of the doctors strictly to tell him that she forgave him and to enlighten him. You see the first doctor Karen spoke to was her obstetrician. Medically speaking there was less than a 1 percent chance Karen would have cancer and the lump she had found was probably just a clogged milk duct. This is just what every mother of five young children wants to hear when they have found a lump in their breast. Now told that she could have only months to live, she wanted him to hear of the diagnosis directly from her, she wanted him to know their relationship was clear and that she didn’t hold him responsible. This doctor attended Karen’s memorial service and remains a family friend.

It was nearly a year before she was diagnosed from when Karen first brought up the lump to her doctor. She was probably at most Stage 1 into the disease. Stage 1 is survivable 90 percent of the time. The one and only time she and I discussed this fact I was the one who brought it up and the conversation ended when she gently but adamantly reminded me that be it Stage 1 or Stage 4 her life is no less in the hands of God.

God tells us to forgive and forget. Karen put a face to these words for me. Throughout our relationship whenever I wronged her or hurt her whether it was unintentionally or intentionally she always forgave me and NEVER mentioned it again.

Not following her wise counsel I held a grudge. Not against the doctors (several) who missed the opportunities (they are human), but the doctor I felt blatantly lied to us or was extremely incompetent or both. The same doctor that now seemed to be the only one available to help her is the one doctor on the face the earth I don’t want to be on the same hemisphere with let alone have near my wife. Lord, what are you asking of me?

Now, more than two years after we left Newnan because of my disdain for and distrust of this doctor we’re back nearly where we began. Can this really be happening? Snapping out of thought, I see a nurse tirelessly helping Karen breathe by using a hand ventilator. While enroute to the ICU Karen called out to me to help her because she said she was “fading” again.

I felt helpless and my heart burned to help her. Arriving at the ICU, I was told I couldn’t be admitted. I didn’t stop to ask for permission and simply stayed by her talking to her. Karen’s blood pressure kept dropping to the point that she was slipping in and out of consciousness. She was “bleeding out” internally and the staff were frantically doing all they could to stabilize her.

Praying for a miracle, begging God for Karen’s life as I knew it, time was not our friend. After a short time spent seeking other options and seeking counsel, I made the decision to allow the doctor to be called, but I insisted I would only sign a consent form for the procedure after speaking to him.

Karen was now stabilized at this point though her blood pressure remained dangerously low and she required constant medical supervision. In the time between the doctor’s arrival the staff infused nearly 3 pints of blood and administered some drugs to help with clotting to try to control the bleeding. Karen’s color returned and she was able to speak briefly to family and friends that had gathered. When the children were in the room her blood pressure went up 10 or more points. It was still dangerously low but I think a beautiful picture of who held her heart strings.

Once the doctor arrived he met with me as requested outside of Karen’s room. I imagined all the things I wanted to say to him over the course of the last two years coming out all out at once. Instead my first words to him were I forgive you. I was spent and felt the Lord’s presence heavily. The doctor didn’t seem entirely shocked and didn’t have any trouble recalling our last time together. His apology (though I wasn’t looking for one) came in the form of not wanting to take away our hope. He admitted to knowing how sick she was but didn’t want us to lose hope. I briefly explained to him that Karen and I were Christians and that our hope was never in him.

Time being of the essence I gave him some of the background of Karen’s treatment over the course of the last two years. I then asked my father in law to join us and we prayed for the doctor and Karen. Leaving her room was extremely difficult.

The doctor returned after the procedure with pictures of Karen’s esophagus which grieved me just to see, he said she must have been in intense pain for some time, because of the damage caused by her swelling liver which in turn put intense pressure on the circulatory system. She was bleeding from multiple places in the esophagus. He said he did everything he could do and that she may recover if the blood pressure could stabilize.

Flashback

In July 2005 (you can still read of Karen’s condition in this blog) Karen began hemorrhaging the first time the blood vessels burst in her esophagus. The gastroenterologist she was seeing then also told me he did all he could by “banding” (process used to close up damaged vessels) all burst vessels he could see but if the pressure didn’t come off of those vessels that more could burst and worse they could burst in an area that was not operable. If that happened she would die.

We prayed and called on many to pray with us. We asked for healing and a miracle. Karen was released several days later in really poor condition with an abdomen that again looked like she was nine months pregnant.

Miraculously (a word used by several doctors) she was able to continue cancer treatment and improved. She improved so much that you could see the wonder on people’s faces when they saw her again. She didn’t waste this wonder by saying a simple thank you. Instead she used it as springboard to tell them what God had done in her life.

When she went back to the gastroenterologist he was amazed. He said he never expected to see her again with how sick she was when she left the hospital. In fact most of the doctors and nurses were completely in awe with how Karen seemed to bounce back.

Clearly God wasn’t finished with His work in her life.

By now it was late afternoon to early evening and Karen seemed to be resting peacefully. I remember feeling numb but I don’t recall much from then until the shift change in the ICU. Kevin (an excellent nurse) would be turning Karen’s care over to Tara.

Tara was an unabashed Christian and a breast cancer survivor. Normally she would be responsible for 2 patients during her twelve hour shift but tonight it worked out that Karen was her only responsibility.

Later in the evening, the staff allowed friends from church into the ICU and we prayed for Karen. While preparing for this entry to the blog, I read a note from a friend who came to pray that reminded me how Karen reached for my hand and said, “Sure Honey” when I asked if I could hold her hand and pray. My prayer was simple and direct. I asked God to grant me my first desire which was for Karen to be healed here so she could see her children grow old and if that was not be that He would take her Home where she would never again have to deal with cancer.

A short time later when all was quiet, Karen stirred because of the pain in her back due to her failing kidneys. She asked out loud and in a voice of concern, “Where are the children?” I told her they were at home with Lidia (a dear friend). Upon hearing this, she immediately relaxed again and went back to sleep.

Early on in our journey we learned the importance of note taking. The room was now again quiet except for the hushed sounds of hospital life. I started writing down the events of they day.

At 23:15, Karen awoke again and said in the same voice of concern, “Where is Darren? I need to speak with Darren.” I assured her I was right there and started to tell I wasn’t leaving her side when she interrupted with words I will never forget. “Darren, you’ve got to let me go.” I began to tell her that I was willing to let her go and then she drifted back into sleep.

The truth is I wasn’t prepared to let her go. How do you say goodbye to your best friend of 17 years? How do you let go of the person who knew you the best, loved you the best (earthly speaking), the person with whom you shared your hopes, dreams and fears? I asked God to prepare us for what our futures would hold.

Sunday, October 28, 2008

A little after midnight I was still writing the events of the day when Karen stirred and I could tell she was somewhat awake. Seizing the moment I took her face in my hands and tried to finish the conversation we started just an hour earlier. I told she could go Home and that I would take care of the children just as we planned. Her neck stiffened, her one good eye opened and she said directly to me in a not happy tone, “Don’t ask me to leave the children, don’t ask me …” just as quickly as she awoke she drifted back to sleep.

I felt many emotions but one that may not be expected was humor. I laughed out loud at the starkly different conversations she and I had in just an hour. Men just can’t get it right can we?

I spent the night in a chair “sleeping” by her side. Not lost on me was the fact that she and I had spent five other nights in similar sleeping arrangements, only for much more joyful reasons. You see this was the same hospital and floor where Karen delivered each of the children. I remember being so grateful to be by her side at each of those life changing events in our lives and even more thankful to be by her side in the ICU.

Overnight, it was hoped that the bleeding would stop and her blood pressure would return to levels necessary for her body to begin recovering from the events of the previous day. Ultimately this part of her earthly body couldn’t bounce back due to the affects of cancer. With the blood pressure so low, her kidneys were not functioning. No kidney function means your body will in time fill with toxins and body systems will begin shutting down.

I got this news form Tara at about 6:00 a.m. She pulled me just outside of the ICU room to tell me Karen’s kidney’s had all but stopped and her body was filling with toxins normally eliminated from the body by the kidneys.

There were three clear options offered to try getting the kidney’s to begin functioning but even then it would probably buy little time. As I listened intently to each of them I knew Karen wouldn’t want any of these things done to her. My head told me it was time to stop, so I immediately instructed the nurse that Karen was to be kept out of pain as best they could and given nutrition and hydration intravenously.

As the nurse walked away I reentered Karen’s room and my knees nearly buckled. If it hadn’t been for a dear friend being right there I probably would have collapsed in a heap. Seeing the woman of my dreams, mother to my children lying in the hospital bed, and knowing the decision I just made (or felt I made), I immediately second guessed myself and all the deep conversations Karen and I had about such a time as this in our lives. I unfairly reached out to my friend for help in making the decision. A widow herself she wisely said this is a decision that only you can make.

My heart was racing, tears were streaming, emotions were swirling. I immediately cried out to God begging for another way or at least a clear indication that I had made the right decision. As I finished the prayer, Karen awoke for what would be our last conversation beyond the yes, no and thank you, I would hear this side of heaven.

I spoke loudly and as authoritatively as I could muster to Karen. I explained her kidney function to her and the processes we could try to get her kidney’s functioning again. She lay there quietly listening but her face was anguished. The same grieved face I had comforted many times as we received disappointing news about her health during our journey.

Karen I need your help making this decision I don’t want to make it alone. Her reply was “I don’t want to give up on my health or the children.” I struggled to keep composure as I told her she wasn’t giving up and no sane person could even suggest a mother who had endured so much was giving up. I told her she wasn’t letting go instead she was letting God. He could heal her at that very moment if He chose. Her face softened again, and I could tell she was drifting back into sleep so I shook her gently and again asked do you want to try these treatments or barring a miracle do you want to go Home to heaven?

Her reply was quick and clear, “I want to go Home”.

I informed Tara that my original decision stood. Shortly after, another staff member came in to draw blood. Obviously, not aware of our decision she already had the rubber band around Karen’s arm when I told her that Karen was not to be pricked again. After that a strange but welcomed peace filled the room. I again started scribbling notes. The time was 06:15.

Throughout the day the hospital staff did just as I asked and couldn’t have been more understanding and accommodating. The children visited again and all of them took turns feeding Karen ice chips (something she always enjoyed).

Even with the medication Karen was in pain. Moving her helped with sore spots from lying in the same position. So many times throughout the day, I called on Kevin (the same nurse from the day before) and asked him to help me move Karen to her other side. She was aware enough from 06:15 until about 19:00 to say yes or no when asked if she was in pain or wanted anymore ice chips. Also alert enough to open her mouth for the children so they could put in another spoonful of ice chips and alert enough to chew them, most of the time. She also said thank you every time we moved her except for the last.

Ice Story

After being diagnosed Karen told me if she ever got to hospice and confined to a bed, she wanted a machine that made ice chips like the ones at the hospital. These ice chips were usually consumed at happier times for our family.

I first found out how much Karen like this particular type of ice back in 1990. I used to kid her about how often she visited Taco Bell when we were courting. I managed the store and she came by for lunch nearly every day. I used to tell her I didn’t know which she like better the ice chips or me. To which she would usually reply, “The ice chips are really good!”

When the Lord blessed us with children, I took great pleasure feeding her the same type of ice chips before and after the newest member of our family arrived.

Now those very children were sitting on the bed next to their mother feeding her ice chips and listening to those same sounds of contentment as Karen chewed each bite of ice.

It was such a picture to me of how quickly life changes and how we should savor our times together more than we do. Recently as I was writing this, I was reminded by a friend of the lyrics in a song.

I’m in a hurry to get things done, I rush and rush until life’s no fun, all I really got to do is live and die but I’m in a hurry and don’t know why.

Slow down, have some ice chips. All the other “important” stuff can wait.

As morning led to afternoon, periodically I would leave the ICU to visit with all the many dear friends and family that came from near and far to lend their support. It was such an encouragement to know how many cared.

On one such visit, I found Zachary walking around eating potato chips. I watched as he picked up a chip from the floor and popped in his mouth before I could stop him. I let it go but then he dropped another and did the same thing. I excused myself from the conversation I was in and went over to him. I asked if he was eating chips off the dirty floor. His response made me laugh out loud, “No Dad! I blow them off first!” Thank God for children!

It is now early evening and the nurses have told us they cannot believe Karen’s body has hung in this long given the trauma. Getting ready for another shift change I thanked Kevin for his assistance to our family and the pride he takes in the difficult job he does. It is approximately 19:15.

911

Our anniversary 9-11 became much more than we ever thought it could. I’m not overly sentimental about things but dates and places mean a lot to me. I can remember the craziest of things based upon a time or place. If I want to remember something all I have to do is spend a few moments in the memory boxes of my mind and sights, sounds and even smells will return to me vividly.

I’m not superstitious in the least. I don’t believe knocking on wood will keep bad things from happening. I’m not scared of ladders, black cats, open umbrellas indoors or broken mirrors. I don’t believe if my hand itches I’m going to get money any more than I believe if my ear itches or burns someone is talking about me. That is why when I started seeing 9:11 a.m. and p.m. regularly when looking at my watch, clock, etc., I thought nothing of it. I mean other than it was interesting since Karen and I were married on September 11th (9-11). It was months before Karen was diagnosed that this began.

As many readers of this blog know, on May 25, 2005 at 12:30 in the afternoon we were told she would not have long to live and most likely wouldn’t see Christmas. We were devastated, but held fast that God was well aware of all that was going on in our lives. What wasn’t shared on the blog was later that night after coming home and sharing the news with the children, I sat on the floor in our laundry room crying out to God asking for this cup to pass from our family and for Karen to be healed. Shortly after that time with God I felt prompted to remember 9-11.

I can’t offer you any other explanation other than I felt God was in control and I was at peace in the midst of a fierce storm brewing. From that night forward I started calling Karen every night at 9:11 p.m. to wish her a Happy Anniversary and tell her I loved her.

Karen, a competitive woman not to be outdone starting calling me in what became a race as to who could call who first, every night regardless of where we were or what we were doing we spoke to each other at 9:11 or close to it. The children who helped their mother remember to call in our contest still to this day wish me a happy anniversary every night at 9:11.

That may seem like a nice story until you hear the rest of it. Shortly after the shift change in the ICU, Karen’s breathing became more and more shallow and knew I was losing her. I read the 23 Psalm out loud and continued hoping for her to be healed here but was beginning to accept her being healed in heaven.

A short time later her breathing even more labored and shallow it was just minutes before 9:11. As her body continued to shut down I told her there were about 40 seconds left until “our time”. According to my watch she took her last breath at 9:11 p.m. I had one last chance to wish her a happy anniversary and tell her I loved her.

Coincidence, I think not. Just as God gave us a sign with the rainbow, I believe this was His sign to me that He is still in control. Regardless of what happens in the future He is still in charge.

I held her hand which was still soft and warm, her nails well manicured. Her hair smelled sweet and yet I knew she was gone. I remember feeling strangely peaceful and happy for Karen. After summoning the nurse I left to go tell the children. I wanted them to hear it directly from me.

I remember vividly a smile coming to my face as I waited for the elevator to come. I thought of the times Karen and I had rode this elevator up to this very floor. All of our children were born just a matter of steps from where I stood.

When I arrived home the children were dressed and ready but not entirely sure what was going on. I sat them down in our family room on the same sofa we sat on May 25, 2005. I told them our prayers have been answered, their mother was healed. If I close my eyes I can still see the looks on their faces which are burned into my mind as are the looks when we first told them of the cancer.

All but J.D. believed me, he said he needed to see his mother’s body to believe it and reminded me that Lazarus was raised from the dead and God could do that again if He wanted. I told the children all I think to share and then asked them if they had questions. I don’t remember any of the questions but I do remember J.D. being concerned how our neighbors would learn of their mother’s passing. I explained that this type of news travels quickly and that most people would know by morning.

He didn’t like the thought of our neighbors finding out by the “grapevine” and was adamant that they should hear the news directly from us. Questions finished we prayed and thanked God for healing Karen. We then left for the hospital.

The hospital staff was most gracious and allowed the children back into the ICU again to say goodbye to Karen’s glove. That’s what we taught the children the body was like after death. Like a glove covers our hand the body houses our spirit. Once our spirit has left our body it’s just a lifeless glove again. Each of them were allowed time to say goodbye and ask questions. We gathered all personal effects and left the ICU for the last time. I didn’t want to leave until the funeral home arrived so we visited with family and friends. After the funeral home folks came and went, we headed out.

I intentionally used the elevator that Karen and I rode up in just before each of the children was born. They listened in wonder as I regaled them with the story of Rachel nearly being born in the elevator. Laughter and pain are such strange companions.

Monday, October 29, 2008

It was a solemn walk back to the car and now early morning. J.D. hit me with a couple of questions. The first one was if he could get up in the morning and go tell our neighbors personally of Karen’s passing. The other children thought this was an excellent idea and asked if they could go too. I said they could certain they would forget about this idea by the time we woke up.

We camped out that night (really it was early morning) in our family room. I was awakened by 5 alert, dressed children who had not forgotten. J.D. said dad we are going to tell our neighbors like we talked about last night, we just didn’t want you to worry about where we were. Overwhelmed I said the only thing I could think of at the time, “Look both ways when crossing the street and hold your brother’s hand.”

As they closed the door behind them, I lost it emotionally for what would be the first of many times. Regaining my composure, I looked outside to see them going from house to house telling our neighbors what I told them the night before. “Their prayers had been answered; their mother was healed of cancer.” Indeed she is!

~ Sunset Maui, Hawaii ~

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Two years ago...

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

Sunset, Maui Hawaii

Thursday, October 02, 2008

It is time . . .

Sunday, August 03, 2008

Friday, July 11, 2008

The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord

Friday, July 04, 2008

Friday, June 27, 2008

Wedding Wishes

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