Strong arms

June 26, 2012


After a terrifying day post-op with complications threatening my recovery, I managed to stay awake long enough after my ten'o'clock meds to glance through the days' news, and suddenly realized that while I had awakened early that morning to a series of nightmarish situations,  fluid build-up, the inability to breathe, and so on -- people I knew and loved were in the face of danger. 


My grandparents, aunt and family have lived in Colorado Springs since I was a toddler. While Grandpa, Grandma and our beloved Uncle Kenny have been gone from us, for years now, memories of days in the 'Springs are as much of part of my life as birthdays and Christmas. One cousin's home lay directly in the path of the inferno, and my aunt and uncle's 45+ home had to be evacuated.


What a nightmare. A real live no waking and rubbing the eyes nightmare.


My little boys, back in the day, had recurring nightmares.


Two-year-old Randall used to sleepwalk, out into the living room, big chocolate-brown eyes glazed over, terrified of SillyDay ( that's all he could get out).


A tiny Craig had regular horrific visions of the Mesei Cats ( which turned out to be the nasty Siamese cats from Lady and the Tramp, torturing him -- and would coming running in the night, electric blond hair flying, to wedge himself into my sleepy embrace until he could fall asleep again. 


Baby Brett somehow retained the seemingly peaceful image of orangutans at the San Diego Zoo, strolling in front of his perch in the viewing enclosure, in a nightmare file that would cause him to cry out in terror every other night or so.


Those nightmares ended for my little boys as they grew older, but as we grow older we face equally terrifying situations where it seems there are no open arms to jump into. Spouses die, cancer strikes, relationships end,  businesses fail, homes are lost, catastrophes happen.


Whilst I recovered from my own medical nightmares, my cousin and his wife faced the loss of the their home and pending breast cancer battle with the strength and grace of the Garden of the Gods,  just up the road. Blessedly they had ample time to retrieve things from their home, making hurried trips back and forth between his older sister's house and the one with the flames rushing towards it. Their children gathered favorite possessions, and my cousin drove off with the last load as 'the bomb' of flames leaped the mountain ridge, seen exploding in his rearview mirror.

On Thursday he took his wife in for a lumpectomy, in the part of the 'Springs where life had gone on fairly regularly, picked her up, and headed out for a family weekend with one thought in mind -- be together and face the future as it comes.

I'm headed home today from an arduous, excruciating two weeks, preceded by a spring of highly dramatic events including the life and death struggles of my own son.

It's only been three weeks since Jon left for this stretch in Kuwait, ten days since I woke up from surgery and had to absolutely rely on the inner strength I have from God to be able to sit here, early this morning listening to the birds. The nightmares of Tuesday have abated, for the most part, but this will be a long recovery in which there will be many moments of wanting Jon's arms around me -- and the secure peace that they are there, if only in spirit. The nightmares in Colorado have abated, with much work to be done as well, and one young lady in particular has already decided that she wants a double window in the new house. They grow 'em good up there in the Rockies.

I made Jonathan laugh last night and the sound of his rumbly tones seemed to clear all the nightmarish strings away from my own scenario. It's been so hard on him to be so far away from me when I hurt and seemingly do nothing -- but his twice daily 'hugs' from Kuwait bolstered my lagging spirit and gave me courage. My cousin's practical, tender approach to his own situation has and will certainly do the same for his family.

These two guys depend on strength from a source beyond understanding. It's been a long time since I heard my cousin pray, but I'm guessing it's close to the same tones that I hear in Jonathan, across the globe, "Dear heavenly Father, hold on to Amy, let her know it will be all right, give her rest and strength and healing..."

Run into the same arms that they do, whenever you need to.

God never sleeps, and nightmares are banished within His embrace. There still may be ashes to clear, but you are safe within His arms.