by Connie Hauesler
Not For Sale
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Not For Sale
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This was written on March 27, 2001.
Last night I saw a shooting star. Just an average, ordinary shooting star. The song on the radio just happened to be "Angels Among Us" by the group ALABAMA.
My husband and I were driving out to our daughter's home to pick up our fifteen year old son. Why, on this particular evening, I happened to notice these two events puzzled me at the time.
Normally, I do not listen to country music. The particular station we were listening to, is especially irritating. Neither my husband or myself had paid any attention to or bothered to change, the radio station we got in the car.
We both were swimming in our own private sea of grief. At two o'clock that afternoon, we had buried my father-in-law. My husband was mourning the loss of the greatest man he has ever known on this earth. I mourned also, and carried a much heavier burden as well. I took the blame for my father-in-law's death personally.
You see, we had just brought Pa home from an extended stay in the hospital. He had undergone two major surgeries in two weeks. The recuperation was going extremely well and he was released on Friday with some restrictions and one exception.
The exception was that Pa had to be given an injection once a day. The medication was a blood thinner. I volunteered to give the shots because I have experience giving insulin.
My mother-in-law and I brought Pa home on Friday afternoon. That night the entire family gathered for supper. After eating Pa's favorite meal, we all sat around teasing and laughing, telling him how great it was to have him home.
Saturday morning, my husband and I went to check on Ma and Pa. He was at the breakfast table talking about what he remembered from his hospital stay. After he finished eating breakfast, I gave him the injection.
Fifteen minutes after giving him the shot, my husband and I were frantically trying to do CPR and get EMS on the phone. We tried so hard.
When the first responder arrived, he and I continued working with Pa, and there was no response.
The EMT's arrived - the finest and probably the most well trained unit we have - and - nothing.
Between breaths - trying to breath for Pa, I was begging God "please - just something - anything - please let him breathe - please don't take him now.
My mind began to fill with doubts as my in-laws home began to fill will family and friends. "He was fine until you gave him the shot - Why didn't you start CPR quicker - Why did you let him die?"
I began to immediately shutdown and withdraw from everyone. Words of comfort meant nothing to me. I felt that my brothers-in-law and my mother-in-law and even my husband were looking to me for an explanation and I didn't have one to give.
The next days were a blur. Someone can recall something that was said or done, and I remember it. I can't recall anything on my own.
I kept thinking on the drive to our daughter's house that if I could just have some sign, something to let me know that God is there, that He knows what's going on inside of me. That's when He gave me the shooting star and the song.
It was like being doused with a bucket of cold water. God tells us, over and over, that he will never leave us alone, forsake us or give us more than we can bear.
Sometimes in order to see and hear God more clearly, we have to be still and quiet. We shouldn't take the wonders He bestows upon us for granted. Sometimes He lets us know He's there, not with a shout, sometimes it is with one of His little wonders.
I'll not say farwell
Nor bid a sad good-bye.
The time has come for me to travel
To my heavenly home on high.
My time with you on earth
Is at it's natural end.
Remember I am waiting patiently for you
Just around the next bend.
I'm going to meet dear ones
Long gone on before.
I'll be singing the Father's praises
With the angels forevermore.
So grieve for me season
Mourn for me a time,
But know that I am waiting to greet you
Just over on the other side.
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