To continue my story of "Whose Idea Was It?"
.My sister, Mary, was living in the old farm house. Her kids had mostly grown up and moved on with their lives. Mary surprised us one day by just packing up and heading to Florida. This was before Al and I had gotten serious about our move to Florida.
After Al and I was all settled I found out where my sister was living. She had ended up in the Tampa area over on the west side of the state.One day I caught the Greyhound Bus and went to visit her. We had a good visit. When I left there, I suggested that maybe it would be a good idea if she came over to the Hollywood area. I knew that she would be able to find work as she was smart with figures.
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Well, one day she showed up at our place. When Mary found a job she was able to get a small place of her own. One day Mary mentioned how she was always feeling so tired. Everyone knows that the older you get the more tired you feel, but Mary didn't think she was that old yet. She was around 46 and didn't think she was old enough to feel so tired.. One day she collapsed and ended up in the hospital.
Here I need to back track a few years. When Mary turned 40 she went to get a pap test, as everyone did in those days. Perhaps they still do today. The pap test came back indicating a problem. The doctor said she had to have her uterus removed. So this was done. At the follow-up meeting with the doctor, he told Mary he had found a small spot on the lining of the uterus and that he wanted to do a hysterectomy because there was a good chance that little spot might have caused something where the lining had been. Mary asked him what would happen if she didn't have the operation.. He said, "You will know in seven years." As far as I know, Mary never went back to a doctor or any more pap test.
So Mary was in the hospital. The doctor wanted to do an exploratory operation. She did not want that to be done. I had asked for prayers for her with a number of churches. I knew that God was able to stop the operation at any time. I remembered how God had stopped Abraham from killing his son Isaac on the altar at the last moment. I believed that God could stop the doctor's hand from making the cut at the last moment. But God has his reasons for not always answering our prayers the way we want Him too. That was a hard time for me to deal with God's no.
I knew later why it was the way it was. Mary was full of cancer and there was nothing anyone could do about it. The doctor said that chemo would not help, but Mary wanted to try it anyway. So she did. Of course she was very sick after the chemo treatment. The doctor had one marijuana pill that he gave her to help ease he pain. Then he told me I would have to find more "on the street". Well I knew a lady and I felt sure that this person would be able to find something for Mary. She came up with a few cigarettes of marijuana. Mary hung on and kept her job for a while longer. She was lucky or I should say God had provided for her because the company she worked for had 100% coverage. Soon she had to give up work and moved in with us where I could take care of her.
It was now about three weeks before Christmas and I had called all her kids to come and we would have a party the week end before Christmas. A week before that, Mary decided she wanted to go to the hospital. The week before the party, I went to the church Wed. evening to practice with my kids for Christmas. A friend drove me home from church. When we arrived at the house there was no one there. We headed for the hospital. By the time I got there Mary had already left us. There was a friend of hers staying with her that day. So our party turned into a celebration of her life. All the kids had arrived too late to see Mary. I think that Mary did not want them to see her as she was and wanted to go home before they all arrived. So we had our celebration of Mary's life and then the kids went back to their homes. Now I know whose idea it was. God's idea. He wanted us to be there in Florida because He knew Mary would need someone to be with her at the end. Mary gamboled and lost.
I am going to share a writing that I wrote the following spring that shares a little more about Mary.
MARY'S ROSE
"Christmas is coming. It will soon be here. Please, Lord, just a little longer," my heart cried. My sister, Mary, loved Christmas. She loved to give gifts to all her family. Mary was working hard on her gift list while cancer was hard at work on her.
It was about a year and a half ago when we learned that Mary had terminal cancer. She put up a good fight as the days struggled by. First it was weeks and then months. And now it was almost Christmas. and Mary was confined to bed. And tho she was connected to two machines to help keep her comfortable, she kept busy cutting out patch-work pieces for quilts. She would cut them out and I would sew them together for her and the she would tack the quilts. Together we made one for each of her six children. And my heart would say, "Please, Lord, just a little longer."
On day Mary would say, "Shirley, here is a list. Would you please get these for me the next time you go shopping?" Another day she would remark; "I hope that package comes soon, I ordered some little things for my grandchildren." When the package arrived or I had gone shopping, I would get out the card table and set it up beside the bed. With Christmas wrapping paper, tags and tape, Mary would busy herself with the wrapping of gifts. And again my heart would cry, "Please, Lord, just a little longer."
Christmas morning came, but it was too late. Mary had left us the week before to spend Christmas with her Lord in that heavenly home. But wait a minute. What is this? Why yes, under the tree are presents for everyone from Mary. Quilts for her children and little things for the grandchildren. A footstool for my husband, Mary was still there sharing one last Christmas with us.
And my gift? Oh yes, there was one for me, too. Mary had made arrangements with her son to take care of that. For under the tree were two rose bushes. So now when I go outside I sometimes find a lovely big red rose or a pretty white one. I cut the red rose and bring it inside. As I tenderly place it in a pretty vase, I would say to myself, "Mary's rose.
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