Good and Present

This was what I posted on Facebook:

“It was a year ago that we nearly lost mom. It all happened so fast. We had to force her to go to the ER, and even then she told registration she was there because she was a little dehydrated. The truth was she was hours away from passing. They had no idea what was going on, but obviously Covid was the top concern. I knew that wasn’t it, but I understood the protocols.

They made me isolate with her. Things became critical and her amazing doctor had to intubate and vent her as they scrambled to find a specialized hospital that could treat her. Many of the procedures were similar to what doctors performed on Hannah when we nearly lost her as a baby, except then they denied letting me stay because they knew how traumatic it would be. This time, I was feet away from mom as the team worked on her.

Before they performed those life-saving measures, Dr. Hobson told us to say goodbye, confessing he could make no promises. Clear as day I remember her looking me in the eye. “No matter what, it will be good for me. I make it, that’s good. I don’t, it’s good. I know where I’m going, and it is good.” She emphasized that needed to be my focus.

Months later, we faced that day. And although the shock of it all has nearly done us in, her words have been a comfort. We know where she is. Her faith was strong. It was not religion to her. She had a relationship. And now she walks heavenly gardens with Him, most likely dad pointing out things he’s also found and waited to show her. That is good. Hard. But good.”

In those months where I stayed with mom to caregive, and then returned for her funeral, and then the business associated with her death, I walked through it in a haze. We planned a vacation for healing, and that was canceled thanks to Covid. We planned an alternate vacation where I mentally broke.

How bad was it?

I could not walk. I froze so bad emotionally I could not move. Everything tensed up. I needed my husband to take my arm. What normally would take seconds to cover took painful, slow minutes. It was awful.

There was another trip not long after that and thankfully that went better. Upon return, I got bronchitis. My lungs tightened up and the smallest activity felt like I’d climbed a mountain. It was lonely and sad, it was the same time frame as the Afghanistan tragedy. I felt hopeless and lost.

Thankfully I’m on the other side of these issues. I feel great. I’m walking nearly at my normal pace. My breathing is good. I attended a family event out of the area and had no problems walking. No emotional triggers. I’m back on my devotional and prayer schedule, something that has been hit and miss to the degree I’m used to participating.

Through it all, at the very lowest, there was one thing I can say.

I felt God’s presence.

I was lonely, but never alone. I know that with all my heart.

Julie Arduini

I don’t know what 2020 was like for you, or this year. If you are feeling like the bottom has fallen out, I encourage you to ask God to show Himself. For me, He shows up in so many ways. A sermon. A song. A verse in the Bible that I’ve read many times but it reads new. Something someone shares. He longs to give you the desire of your heart. To shower you with His unconditional love.

The hardest year has taught me much.

My mom has it good.

And God has been present.

For me, these things are a gift.