The ol' homestead

 I wanted him to live more than anything. I always dwell on him this time of year... specifically on the 4th of July at Redbud Park. That is where we go every year to watch the fireworks display and that is where we were again this year. We have been to Redbud for a great many years and it is where April dwelled in me safe and secure 2 weeks before she was born. They always have live music on the grounds and you can spread your blanket, kick-back, have a cold drink, eat Reeces Pieces, swat at termites and relax until dark. In whence you have to cover your ears if you are not deaf when the fireworks start, then shield your eyes from the blast of lights if they are sensitive. The last time I saw Rodney healthy and what I knew surely was remission was at Redbud a few weeks from his returning from M.D.Anderson and several months of intense treatment for his cancer. Melanoma. Even the name sounds ugly. And ghastly. Rodney's wife Dorine and I worked together at the school and our compadre'ness ran very deep. I had her back, and she had mine. And I remember (but try to forget) back to a time when in my I-know-it-all techi days this came into call. I was going to do a simple upgrade on a business computer for a friend who asked me to. The word *business* should have been enough for me to turn tale and walk...no run... away. But did I? NOOOO. And I got over my head really quick. One thing was tied to another which was making something else fail and I finally stopped when it was a jumble. Then, I begged on both knees called Dorine to help me in which she dispatched her secret weapon ... The Rodster. Rodney did his ghosting and then hocus pocus he made it better. It was a big thing because I almost lost all their records...everything. I was grateful to him and I swore my allegience to him after that. I learned my lesson and the only other computer I would mess up from then on would be my own (and I have succeeded there!)

They had a son that my boys played with and although together they were never overly mischievious boys, they did occasionally come up with a plan that would totally throw us off their scent. One occasion was one day while playing at their house, Dorine arrived home to a suspicious calm. Finally in confession the boys admitted to a yowling good time throwing apples up into the ceiling fan to see it smack into tidbits and fly everywhere. I swear, they were good boys, and other than these few crazy ideas they tried, they turned out good men.

Really, so sorry Dorine for you having to pick apple pieces off stuff for a year ...

Towards the end of his life I visited him in the hospital. I wanted him to fight for life. To live. And I saw that he was wanting to live. I held Rodney's hands while tears poured from his eyes. We said nothing, but heart to heart it was huge.

I went home and cried out to the Lord. Heal Him! I screamed it. Pleaded it... demanded it. I asked God for it, I wanted it, yet healing did not come. I couldn't understand it because I had asked many times and I wanted it so badly.

Surely he would not die.

But he did.

And I wrestled and wrestled with this and just did not understand why for a very l-o-n-g time.

How could God NOT heal him. He had the power to do it and after all, I asked!

But in time I grew and God spoke to my heart and comforted my heart and grew me up. I never prayed for God's will....just my own. As if I knew what was best ... better than God. There are some things we will never see the whole picure of while we are here on earth. I believe that Rodneys life had purpose and his death had purpose. One day I hope to know his purpose, and how God used him to reach others ... or to grow some people in the Lord, like me. I just don't have the answers but I have faith in God. And I believe he has a beautiful plan.

The graveside was cold cold and little pieces of ice was falling on our cheeks...and our lashes and I remember looking up to the heavens and thinking..... how odd that the weather matched how we felt standing there...

It hurts to remember. I hate pain, but I hate forgetting Rodney more. Sometimes when we journal, it's not always about the now, but about bridging the past and growing. And healing.