All Is Well

My sister would turn 45 years old tomorrow, May 1, 2023, if she were still alive. 

Over two years has passed since Sharon died and I think of her so often. The saddest thing to me is that I didn't know her, didn't appreciate her, didn't love her well until the end of her life. I feel as though I know her more now than I did then, and that is an odd feeling sometimes. 

Sharon was 21 months younger than I was; the closest in age of all my siblings, but not the closest in friendship. During graduate school, I self-diagnosed myself and pretty much all of my family members with some form of disorder. (I believe that is a requirement for any medical/nursing professional school!) I continue to believe that Sharon had Asperger's Syndrome, but she was never tested or diagnosed. Like many with Asperger's, Sharon was so intelligent it was almost startling how her mind worked, how much she retained, and how wide her knowledge base. And, like many with Asperger's, Sharon was socially awkward, had a hard time connecting with people, and was more alone than others. She loved to read and write. She was an artist who painted, threw pottery, drew, knitted, dreamed. I would say that I had no artistic ability because Sharon got my share...if anyone ever sees my "artwork" they would agree!

I have some of Sharon's artwork, some of her prayer journals, some of her writings. She started organizing a journal/book about her cancer journey, but it was left unfinished. I have learned about her heart through these items and feel like I see her for who she really was. An absolutely amazing woman who loved God deeply and loved serving others in so many ways. She donated her time and talent to paint murals in a Greenwood, TX library, she knit and sewed countless hats to donate to cancer victims, she wrote cards and letters to so many, and I could go on and on. Her prayer journal humbles me and encourages me. She not only wrote down her prayer requests and praises, but so many times she noted, sometimes several years later, when a prayer was answered and how it was answered! It humbled me to see my name and prayers for me in there...she was so special. 

During her last ER visit, I sat with her for several hours until she was admitted, and we talked more openly about so many things than we ever had before. I am so grateful for those hours. I am so grateful that we were able to bring her home under hospice care and have the precious time to care for her during her last days on this earth. Her death solidified in my mind that I wanted to work in hospice someday. Every shift, every patient and family member I serve now I try to serve them as if it was my dad or Sharon that I am caring for, not just another patient. It breaks my heart that I didn't know her better this side of Heaven, but I know that is where she is now. I know she is where her heart longed to be and that makes me so happy for her!

Her last notebook that includes thoughts on her cancer journey and her last will and testament ends with the words of a hymn. It's not a familiar hymn and I imagine it's one she discovered in some of her in depth studying of various topics. I love to read it when I am missing Sharon, missing the friendship that I wish we had. Because I know we will have eternity to be friends, sisters and fellow worshippers of our God, and that brings me peace. 

All Is Well

What is this that steals, that steals upon my frame?

Is it death? Is it death?

That soon will quench, will quench this mortal flame?

Is it death? Is it death?

If this be death, I soon shall be

From every pain and sorrow free.

I shall the King of glory see.

All is well! All is well!

Weep not, my friends, weep not for me.

All is well! All is well!

My sins forgiven, forgiven and I am free.

All is well! All is well!

There's not a cloud that doth arise

To hide my Jesus from my eyes.

I soon shall mount the upper skies.

All is well! All is well!

Hail! Hail! all hail! all hail! ye blood washed throng.

Saved by grace. Saved by grace

I come to join your rapturous song.

Saved by grace. Saved by grace.

All is peace and joy divine.

And heaven and glory now are mine.

Loud hallelujahs to the Lamb!

All is well! All is well!

Sharon Renea Woodring; May 1, 1978 - January 29, 2021

Sabbath

 Sabbath is the deliberate cessation of any activity that might reinforce my belief in my own self-sufficiency. (From Journey; daily devotions for women. Winter 2023)

Self-sufficiency. This concept resonates soundly in my innermost being. My mother tells me I was 'independent from birth'; I seemed to not want the same consoling, attention or coddling that other babies craved. When I left for college, I was adamant that I would not return to my childhood home to live. And, after that first summer of college, I didn't. I worked 2, sometimes 3, jobs in addition to a full course load, and very rarely accepted money from my dad after a weekend visit. I felt guilty taking money that I knew was in short supply and I wanted to be self-sufficient. One summer when my organic chemistry load was too great for my normal work schedule, I subsided on the cheapest boxed macaroni and cheese, and for some reason didn't find those 10 cent packages of Ramen noodles until a few years later! I slept in my car a few nights here and there when dorms were closed between semesters, too independent to ask my parents for help, or even my aunts and uncles who lived in the same city as I went to college in for a couch to sleep on. I thought I should be independent and self-sufficient, I felt like I was admitting some type of failure if I asked for help. 

I lived independently or with roommates for over a decade before getting married. When we first married, Mark worked out of town during the week. I would do things around the house that (only occasionally) would cause minor injury because I really could have used a second set of hands. He would ask me, "why didn't you wait until I got home to do that?" I would think, "why should I wait for someone else when I can just do it myself?" And now, even after 17 years, I oftentimes struggle with asking for anything I need from my husband, physical or emotional help. I still feel like I should be self-sufficient and not need anything from anyone else. 

Is it pride or arrogance? This self-sufficiency that seems so ingrained in me. Is it stubbornness or 'orneriness' as one of my aunts used to say? Could it be a strength that has brought me to the point I am today? Could it be a combination of all? Probably.

Deep down, I can see that there are positives in self-sufficiency, but personally I primarily see and feel negatives. For me, self-sufficiency is a protective measure and keeps me from being vulnerable with others. This, in turn, leaves me more alone, sometimes physically but mainly emotionally. I see that self-sufficiency affects my spiritual life and leaves me struggling to understand the concept of relying on God for all my needs. Maybe that is why the statement from the devotion today resonated strongly somewhere deep in my soul. Deliberate cessation of any activity that might reinforce my belief in my own self-sufficiency. What that looks like for myself I don't know, but there is something drawing me to dig deeper internally and prayerfully to find out. To God be the glory.

Transitions; From Beginnings to Endings

Transitions are oftentimes difficult. Transitions are oftentimes feared, resisted, and avoided. Transitions are an integral part of being a human, but that doesn't mean we always like them.

In birth, transition is the final phase between two stages of labor: the dilating and the delivering stages. Transition in labor is frequently the most difficult part. Women fear that they can't continue in labor, they resist the overwhelming sensations that come in unrelenting waves, and they may not understand they are so close to the end. That they are preparing to move on to the final stage when they will soon be rewarded for their labors. Assisting women through this transition of labor has been both incredibly challenging but also incredibly rewarding for me as a midwife. 

Birth is our first transition into this world. We move into a new arena where our entire lives literally are in front of us. The possibilities, for many, are seemingly endless. What will our childhood look like? Will we be a scholar or an athlete (or both)? Will we go to college, will we marry, will we have children of our own? Will we be happy, will we be a kind person, will we contribute to society in a beneficial or harmful way? Will we grow old? The questions are absolutely endless...

What about our final transition? Death and leaving this world we know and sometimes love. Over the past several years, I have said goodbye to a number of family members in this final transition. In 2016, my father passed away from pancreatic cancer. In 2021, my sister passed away from melanoma. In 2021, my father-in-law passed away from cancer. In 2022, my grandfather (in-law) passed away at the ripe old age of 94. I lost other family members prior to 2016, but I was younger, and they didn't have the same impact on me as these. Perhaps it was because I had not yet walked with so many through life transitions and I didn't see them in the same light as I do now. 

I was privileged, and I don't use that phrase lightly, to be at the bedside of both my father and my sister as they made their transition from life to death. Moments I will never forget and that changed me profoundly. 

It may sound strange to some, but there are incredible similarities between the transitions of birth and death in my mind. Breath - the breath of life at birth starts and at death ends. Watching and witnessing a baby breathe their first breath and take that first cry is an honor. Holding space and witnessing the final breath of someone is no less an honor. Birth is moving from an inner world we don't see clearly to our known existence. Death is moving again into a world we don't see clearly, but one day all will experience. Walking with the person through labor and birth, and also walking with a person and the family through death, are much about stillness, listening, support, encouraging, holding on, letting go. No two births are the same and no two deaths are the same, but everyone on this earth will make these two incredible transitions. 

With these and many other musings in mind, I am transitioning from my role as midwife to one of hospice nurse. I have worked my last shift as a midwife with Covington Women's Health Specialists; possibly delivered my last baby. And I start my new path in February with an inpatient hospice facility in Macon, Georgia. This, as with most transitions, has had its difficulties. Saying "see you later" to dear friends and colleagues was harder than any other past career move. Maybe because I am moving away from full time midwifery to something new it seems more challenging...I cannot say for sure.

Midwifery care and hospice care, to me, are holy endeavors. I believe that God gives us breath and numbers our days. He alone knows the moments of our birth and death. To be able to journey with families through these two most significant transitions of our lives is something I am so blessed to do as a career. To God be the glory in my future path is my prayer!