When the alarm went off this morning, I was weary. Still tired, but scheduled to substitute teach, I turned off the annoying buzzer and made my way to the bathroom. Besides substitute teaching, my husband and I own batting cages. As much needed rain forced baseball teams to practice indoors, we'd been busy the night before, and as a result, our family went to bed later than I had anticipated.
But as I looked in the mirror, wishing I could crawl back into bed, God brought someone to my mind...
Christee.
A friend from high school who had passed away the day before. She died of breast cancer.
And she was only 35 years young.
Married.
The mother of 3 children.
This would be her family's first morning to wake up without her. Waking up to the fact that mommy was gone. Gone to heaven where she would now be pain-free, but gone from Earth.
Her face no longer to kiss. Her hand no longer to hold.
Tears fell from my eyes. I felt ashamed, for I knew my body was healthy.
My breasts were healthy too, according to the annual mammogram I had just received the prior week. A year ago, my mammogram had revealed a place of concern. Now, the radiologist was pleased with this spot that he diagnosed as fibrous tissue.
If Christee were alive, she would have gladly traded places with me. She would've felt privileged to do the mundane chores I took for granted.
Rising early. Cooking breakfast. Brushing tangled hair. Tying unlaced tennis shoes. Driving kids to school.
God reminded me that we must make each day count.
Feeling humbled, I thanked God for one more day.
One more day where my boys would walk down the stairs and know their mom would be waiting for them. Waiting to help them get ready for school. Waiting to hug and kiss them good morning.
And for that, I felt privileged and grateful.
But as I looked in the mirror, wishing I could crawl back into bed, God brought someone to my mind...
Christee.
A friend from high school who had passed away the day before. She died of breast cancer.
And she was only 35 years young.
Married.
The mother of 3 children.
This would be her family's first morning to wake up without her. Waking up to the fact that mommy was gone. Gone to heaven where she would now be pain-free, but gone from Earth.
Her face no longer to kiss. Her hand no longer to hold.
Tears fell from my eyes. I felt ashamed, for I knew my body was healthy.
My breasts were healthy too, according to the annual mammogram I had just received the prior week. A year ago, my mammogram had revealed a place of concern. Now, the radiologist was pleased with this spot that he diagnosed as fibrous tissue.
If Christee were alive, she would have gladly traded places with me. She would've felt privileged to do the mundane chores I took for granted.
Rising early. Cooking breakfast. Brushing tangled hair. Tying unlaced tennis shoes. Driving kids to school.
God reminded me that we must make each day count.
Feeling humbled, I thanked God for one more day.
One more day where my boys would walk down the stairs and know their mom would be waiting for them. Waiting to help them get ready for school. Waiting to hug and kiss them good morning.
And for that, I felt privileged and grateful.
To read more about Christee's life and legacy, visit http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/christee
Oh Christi...tears are flowing. I have cried for Christee's children and husband. Broken hearted I am. It is a reminder to hold my children longer and love my husband deeper. Do you care if I share this blog post on my blog...as a link? It was beautifully written! Love you my sweet friend!
ReplyDeleteOh, my friend! I am reminded of Phillipians 4:7. I rest in God's peace that transcends all understanding, even when I do not.
ReplyDeleteYes, I don't mind if you post.
Thanks for your kind words.
Love you always...C