We Were Blessed




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart" March 13, 2003 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com ----------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to your latest issue of "Write 2 the Heart" You are receiving this newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded their copy to you. To subscribe send a blank e-mail to subscribe@write2theheart.com. ------------------------------------------------------------ Denise looks back on the last months of her mothers life and sees where the hand of God poured out blessings without measure. ------------------------------------------------------------ And We Were Blessed By Denise Sawyer ------------------------------------------------------------ My mother died on the day after Thanksgiving, 2001. She was 86 years old. She quietly passed away in her own bed while taking an afternoon nap. She went back to bed about 1 p.m. At 3 p.m. my father started down the hallway to the bedroom to wake her up. He was going to go to the store, and he wanted her to know that he would be leaving. He was just seconds from discovering that she had passed away. The shock for an 87-year-old man would have been overwhelming. At that exact moment, the doorbell rang. My father turned around and headed back down the hall to the front door. My brother, his wife, and their daughter were there; they had come to say hello and to visit for a while. For all of them to be there at the same time was not a frequent occurrence, and I'm sure that it was not just a coincidence. My father said, "Oh, Grandma will be so happy to see you." They went to the bedroom to wake her up, only to discover that she had died in her sleep. If they had arrived a half-hour earlier, she might still have been alive, although just barely. The emergency personnel might have been able to revive her long enough to get her to the hospital. However, she would have been hooked up to IV's and machines, and she would have been kept alive longer than God had intended. I work in an intermediate care unit of a large hospital, and I often see elderly patients being kept alive by machines and all of the latest treatments. Their families cannot bear to let them go; they feel that everything possible must be done for them. My mother was blessed. The decision was taken out of her hands and out of ours. God's blessings and guidance actually started in April of that year, although I did not realize it at the time. I was led or inspired to write a short book about Mary, the mother of Jesus. On a trip to Denver in May of that year to visit with her sister, I had decided to show my mother my story. She was the very first to read it, and it had a real impact on her life. Although she and my father hadn't been to church in years, she always believed in God. When she read this simple story, told as if Mary were telling the story herself, her faith was renewed. She told me that she had learned so much. In the months ahead, she read the story over and over, some parts practically committed to memory. After she first read the story in Denver, it seemed to lead her to the difficult topic of death. She gradually began to talk about what she wanted to wear when she was buried, the type of casket, the music. She confided to me that she was ready when the time came, that she wanted to see her beloved Daddy again, who died back in 1935. Although we had been close, this created a new special bond between us, a very special blessing. We arrived for a short visit the week before her death. I had shown her the cover design for my book, which I had decided to publish. She was standing in the kitchen, and she suddenly said to me, "I want you to put a copy of your book in my casket. I want to talk to Mary about it." I told her that I had already thought about that. As I went over and put my arms around her frail body, my eyes filled with tears of gratitude for the comfort she had found in my story about Mary. She died just one week later. The book didn't go to press until a month or so later, and so I took a bound galley of the book (a prepublication paperback version) and glued the cover design on the front. Then at the funeral, I quietly tucked it in her coffin. At the end of the service, my brother got up and read the last paragraph of the book. Hearing those words in his emotion-filled voice, I realized that even if no one else ever read my book, I was led to write it for the comfort that it would give to my aging mother. "I am getting older, and I can feel death hovering at the edges of my life. My sight is failing me, but I can still feel the warmth of the sun, smell the flowers, hear the birds. The face of my beloved Jesus is always so clear in my mind, and I know for a certainty deep within my soul that as my life departs, my Son and my Lord will be there. I pray that He will watch over you." My mother and I were both blessed during those last months of her life. Denise Sawyer sawyerdenise @ yahoo.com www.stillwaterspublishers.com You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know what you think of their story, just remember to remove the space before and after the @ symbol. The space is placed in the address to protect our writers from viruses and email harvesting programs. Have a comment on today's story? Send it to: moderator@write2theheart.com ---------------------------------------------------------------- Denise Sawyer is the author of the book "My Name is Mary: The Story of the Mother of Jesus, which tells the familiar New Testament story from Mary's perspective. She is also a folk artist and a part-time hospital secretary -------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------- Letters From Our Readers -------------------------------------------------------------- Dear Maria . . . I suppose that no matter how old we get, it'sshocking to believe that the nice appearing person next to, or behind us, are asleopards waiting to pouncewith cunning swiftness, and suddenly you've been had. These pick-pockets are real pros whether overseas or here at home. My downfall happened on a busy tourist-type thoroughfare in my beloved San Francisco. I had swung my shoulder bag behind me while gazing at new cameras in an open air setting. Before I knew it my wallet with EVERYTHING was long gone. I felt utterly stupid and learned a hard lesson. Thank you for your good common sense lessons, Maria. I only wish I had used the sense the good Lord gave me those many years ago. Happy and safe traveling! Kathe Campbell bigskyadj @ in-tch.com Cheryl....how exciting, you found some old friends! And I have learned more about you today. I bet you have some stories to tell us about those days!! Share some with us! Betty King Website www.betty.newsmoose.com --------------------------------------------------------------- Military Prayer Reminder --------------------------------------------------------------- As you read over this list of names, please take that moment to pray for these young people and their families: Chris Speir Howard Tim Speir Jessie Alan Graham Thaddeaus William Todd Holland If you have loved ones in the military, or who are being called to go overseas, send their names (first and last or first only) to be included in our prayer reminder. --------------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner I feel like I have found two long lost brothers. Jimmy gave me the email address of Ronnie and we have all been emailing back and forth. Every time I open an email, I feel like a child at Christmas! As Ronnie puts it, we are catching up on 30 years of history. I had remembered Ronnie's talent with music, but had forgotten his talent with the written word. So, look out folks, I hope to get him to write for us. Now, if I could only find some of the girls, we could reminisce about the time we secretly pierced our ears while our room mother was sleeping. God Bless, Cheryl ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- © 2003 Write 2 the Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual author or copyright owner. All rights belong to the authors.