I was cleaning out some old notebooks (trying to find some I could use to hold my music) when I ran across a piece of paper.

It wasn’t just any old piece of paper – I don’t think I could come up with a post based on any old piece of paper, although that sounds like a good challenge – this piece of paper came from a very special person.

You see, a Long, Long Time Ago, In A Galaxy Far, Far Away, I used to belong to a group of people. Not just any group – but The Valley Cathedral PowerFull Praise Choir and Orchestra. It was a group of about 125 voices that had a very wide range of songs, under the leadership of Dwayne McLuhan. I ended up being the administrator for the Worship and Arts Department for a while. There was a lady who was part of the group by the name of Pat Fischer. Actually, I am convinced that she was an angel here on a special undercover mission. No matter what day or time you ran into her, no matter what kind of news she had just gotten from her oncologists, she always turned the conversation to you. How are you doing? Can we pray about anything for you? How is your family? She was designated as the “Warm and Fuzzy Coordinator” since she was warm and fuzzy for all of us anyway.

Yes, oncologists. Pat had cancer. She lived with it for many years. Lots of people say they fight cancer – Pat lived with it. She lived with it because God gave it to her, and as with any gift from God, Pat cherished it. Not because it was cancer and it would eventually take her away from us for a time, but because it allowed her to refine her walk by helping her to focus on the important things in life – God, service in Jesus’ name, and those around her.

I still have the last e-mail I got from her (not the piece of paper I am talking about) where she actually said something about herself: “Dear Cary, I have some not-so-good news. My doctors say there is nothing more they can do for my cancer. It’s OK, though, because it means that I get to go to sleep and when I wake up, I’ll get to see Jesus!” What a heart for God.

Anyway, here it is – I thought of Pat, and my sister LeaAnn, and all the people who have been dealing with cancer, and how this piece sure takes the sting away and puts it in perspective:

TENTMAKER

It was nice living in this tent when it was strong and secure and the sun was shining and the air was warm but Mr. Tentmaker, it’s scary now. My tent is acting like it’s not going to hold together. The poles seem weak and they shift with the wind. A couple of the stakes have wiggled loose from the sand. Worst of all the canvas has a rip. It no longer protects me from beating rain or stinging flies. It’s scary in here Mr. Tentmaker. Last week I was sent to the repair shop and some repairmen tried to patch the rip in my canvas. It didn’t help much though because the patch pulled away from the edges and not the tear is worse. What troubled me most, Mr. Tentmaker, is that the repairmen didn’t even seem to notice that I was still in the tent. They just worked on the canvas while I shivered inside. I cried out once but no one heard me. I guess my first real question is, Why did you give me such a flimsy tent? I can see by looking around the campground that some of the tents are much stronger and more stable than mine. Why, Mr. Tentmaker, did you pick a tent of such poor quality for me, and even more important what do you intend to do about it?

“O little tent dweller, as the creator and provider of tents, I know all about you and your tent, and I love you both. I made a tent for myself once, and lived in it on your campground. My tent was vulnerable too, and some vicious attackers ripped it to pieces while I was still in it. It was a terrible experience, but you’ll be glad to know, they couldn’t hurt me. In fact, the whole occurrence was a tremendous advance because it is this very victory over my enemy that frees me to be a present help to you. O little tent dweller, I am now prepared to come and live in your tent with you if you’ll invite me. You’ll learn, as we dwell together, that real security comes from my being in your tent with you. When the storms come, you can huddle in my arms and I’ll hold you. When the canvas rips, we’ll go to the repair shop together. Some day, little tent dweller, some day your tent’s going to collapse. You see I’ve only designed it for temporary use. But when it does, you and I are going to leave together. I promise not to leave before you do. And then, free of all that would hinder or restrict, we’ll move to our permanent home and together forever we’ll rejoice and be glad.”

I’ll just be sitting here missing Pat and LeaAnn and a few others for a while…

Chat ya later…

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, don’t buy or breed cats or dogs while homeless pets die (spay, neuter & adopt a pet, one by one, until there are none), Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

Missed a few days there – sorry about that. I got a small remodel job, and I’ve been trying to squeeze in time to work on that in between job hunting and chasing after a certain 2 year old.

Oh, and my nephew (the son of LeaAnn) got married this weekend. It was good to see the family in the area. I was doing OK until I saw my other sister wearing the outfit that LeaAnn was supposed to wear at Sean’s wedding. I gathered myself back up, went and hugged necks of my two brothers and their families that were in attendance, and then caught myself scanning the crowd for LeaAnn.

Nah, that’s not why I put my shades back on. It’s because the wedding was outside on a golf course on a sunny day that I put my shades back on.

No, really.

Chat ya later…

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

Friday, October 3, 2008. After picking up my brother from Phoenix Sky Harbor, we met TMBWitW and MEG at My Mother’s Restaurant for lunch. My brother and I then motored north to Flagstaff for LeaAnn’s service.

On the way north, interstate 17 passes through the Verde River Valley (the area is also known as Verde Valley, or Camp Verde – Gawfer, you know the area I’m talking about!). Going north into Verde, the interstate goes down a long and winding grade. The speed limit drops to 65 mph there, and I usually just drift on down with the car in gear, letting the motor take care of the speed. This time, however…

My brother and I had been talking, and the cruise was set between 75 and 77 mph. Dropping over the top of the grade, and easing down, the traffic as very light and the conversation was steady – not involved, but steady, if you see the difference. The car didn’t build up a LOT of speed, but by the time the grade flattened out, the speedometer was reading 82 as I flashed past the trooper sitting in the median.

Yup, got pulled over, as I should have been. We were slowing for the exit, to get sodas for the rest of the trip, and the tropper pulled onto the exit behind us, and gave us a light show.

I had my license and the car registration out, ready for him, when he introduced himself. He also asked for proof of insurance, and I couldn’t find the current card – but I did have to look through all the previous cards to make sure I didn’t have the current one (he even asked to see some of the previous ones).

“Mr. Cartter, the reason I stopped you was because radar clocked you at 82 miles per hour at the bottom of the hill. Now, the 75 mph zone doesn’t start up until another hundred yards or so beyond where I was sitting, but even in the 75 zone 82 is a bit fast. Now, if you will just wait right here while I run your information through the computer to make sure no one else wants to talk to you, I’ll be right back.”

My brother and I sat there and chatted about previous tickets we had gotten (believe it or not, we were kinda wild in our youth) until I saw the trooper headed back to my window with – could it be? thank you, Lord! – a clipboard in his hand.

“Mr. Cartter, I checked with the fifty states and you are not wanted in any of them…”

“Thanks for not checking the other seven…” slipped out before I could stop myself.

“…and two points for the Obama reference” he continued with a slight grin. “I have written a warning for you, to watch your speed and make sure you get a current copy of your insurance card in the vehicle. You never know when you’ll need it.”

My surprise was written all over my face, and I said “Thank you for the warning. I do apologize, I was talking to my brother, down from Salt Lake, and we were headed to our sister’s funeral.” I signed the warning, he gave me a copy, and we continued to the convenience store to get a couple of cokes.

When we got back in the car, I looked at the warning. The nice trooper had written it for 80 in a 75. What a wonderful example of God’s Grace, I thought. I deserved a ticket, I was waiting for the ticket, and instead I received a warning.

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, listen to The O Word on BlogTalkRadio, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

222?!?

Where did I leave off? Oh, yeah – I brought you up to date as of Monday, 9/29, and then a brief bit on Wednesday.

Monday I drove home, and TMBWitW, MEG and I went to dinner. Kind of somber, with the overtones of my sister hanging in the air. I knew it was serious, but I didn’t know how serious.

Tuesday morning, my sisters LC and AW picked me up at the church property, where I had left MEG with the pastor’s wife. We got up to Flagstaff about noonish, just in time to say hi to LeaAnn and grab a bite to eat. I showed LeaAnn the latest picture of MEG, and told her that she was looking forward to meeting her Aunt Yannie very soon. We spent the afternoon talking, playing cards, and visiting with LeaAnn (“visiting” being an active word, since the visitor would do the talking, as suggested by the wonderful Hospice nurse); once LeaAnn’s best friend Sandy came in, the visits stopped for a while so that Sandy could finish reading (out loud) the latest novel that LeaAnn was reading when she could no longer hold her head up, much less hold the book.

Tuesday evening, the Hospice nurse went over, once again, the things we should all watch for as LeaAnn went through what Hospice calls “actively dying” – that is, the person will progress through particular stages and certain things can be expected. Afterward, LeaAnn’s other best friend (LeaAnn had a lot of best friends) CJ (no, it’s not another abbreviation, that really is how she is addressed) went over what the contents of LeaAnn’s living will were. LeaAnn wrote the document in 2003, knowing that when the time came her family would not have to make the decisions that were going to need to be made. After going over the living will, CJ stepped outside, for a breath of air she said – and pretty much couldn’t stop crying. I walked over to where she was trying to hide, behind the motor home, and I gave her a big old hug and thanked her for doing what none of us wanted done, for doing what none of wanted to have to be done. I told her she was a true friend, to do this for LeaAnn.

Wednesday morning dawned bright and clear, as it does in Flagstaff at this time of year. Hospice came out, and gave LeaAnn a sponge bath (part of making her comfortable – there is a whole balancing act to work between comfort and consciousness for the patient). Hospice had been trying to get a hospital bed for LeaAnn all week – there wasn’t one available in the Northland. I asked if it was possible to arrange for me to get one while I was in Phoenix on Thursday, and bring it up Friday – the Hospice nurse was very straight forward, and said that most likely LeaAnn would not make it that long. I thanked her for her candor.

Someone – either CY or SC – took Mom into town to get her hair done.

LC and I headed for town to run some errands – she needed to stop by the credit union, we needed to find some music that LeaAnn had specifically requested for her service, there were a couple of ice cream cones at the Dairy Queen with our names on them, my brother has requested some sourdough english muffins for Mom’s breakfast – and we had a 1400 meeting with Kay at Norvel Owens. We were a bit early, but Kay came out and started the proceedings anyway – she was very accommodating and quite pleasant. We had gotten through a good portion of the details, and were talking about when to call Norvel Owens, when LC’s phone rang. It was AW, with the news that LeaAnn had passed. That pretty much solved the question on the timing of calling them.

By the time LC and I made it back out to the house, Hospice had already been there and declared. LC and I brought the rest of the family up to speed on the decisions that needed to be made. N.O. was called, and while we were waiting for them to come out we cleared the way for the stretcher to make it into LeaAnn’s room. A small sewing machine case that was being used as a washstand (non-functional, she does have running water!) needed to be moved, but it couldn’t be picked up at the ends – it was rather fragile. I did a full leg squat, picked it up, and side-stepped it towards the kitchen and set it back down. LC and Mom said I looked very graceful while dancing with a small chest. I replied that I had danced with a few small chests in my time, then said that didn’t come out right…

CY was standing at the pantry, staring down the hall towards LeaAnn’s room, and watching the gentlemen from Norvel Owens working. I turned my niece around, and held her so she couldn’t watch. She was absolutely devastated by the whole thing, and didn’t need to watch LeaAnn leave. A few minutes after LeaAnn left, LC and AW gave me a ride down to Phoenix.

I spent Thursday morning replacing the radiator in the QX4. It was a lot easier than I expected, and I was finished in about an hour and a half.

Friday morning, TMBWitW called in for bereavement leave. My cousin, CT (the one who had called me the previous Sunday) came over to run through Amazing Grace with me. I picked up my older brother, DK, at the airport about 1115 and met TMBWitW and MEG at My Mother’s Restaurant for lunch. From there, DK and I went north. We got out to the house, changed, and headed back into town for the service. All six of us, and Mom, were there. There were several “fifth brother” and “fourth sister” types there, all of whom were a part of our family as we were growing up. LC and I sang Amazing Grace while CT played the piano. There were a lot of memories of LeaAnn, and we celebrated her life.

Back at the house, there was food and goings-on until the wee hours. DK, AW and I had to get up and go pretty early, so we turned in before the night got too old.

We left Flagstaff about 0830, and dropped AW off at the airport about 1045. DK and I went back to my house, where he showered and changed, and then we sat and visited until it was time to get him to the airport for his flight.

And I have been processing the proceedings since then; reading the comments from people I have met on line and realizing that I have something priceless – the support of friends.

Thank you, all, for the thoughts and prayers and well-wishes.

My sister, LeaAnn, passed away yesterday afternoon (10/1/2008) at about 2:15 pm.

I was able to see her, I was able to talk to her briefly, I was able to tell her that I loved her and that I would miss her. It’s still not enough.