Joanne writes:
I had the opportunity to go see my parents a few weeks back
with some of my siblings alone. Meaning just me… alone in my van without
children or my sweet husband or the dog... just me.
It’s a back road kind of drive from Stratford to
Tilllsonburg and it’s the kind of travelling I like to do when I get to drive
alone. Rolling fields of harvested crops, farm fresh smells, and open spaces. The
trip was the first one since we learned the news that spots were found on my
mom’s precious brain. It had been an
emotional night, and now I took to the road alone with coffee in hand and
Fernando Ortega’s album Home to accompany me.
I love mountains, and I dearly loved our BC mountains. The majestic beauties surrounding the place I
had called home for 14 years (7 years as a single DiGiovanni and 7 years as a married Lakin).
Snow capped or not, I longed to be there
among them. To quote John Muir, “The
mountains are calling and I must go”. It
is not that I am a skier or frankly a hiking fanatic, it is how the mountains
make me feel. They call something out in
me. I feel humbled and inspired and protected
by the rock and trees, the lofty climb, and the lovely valleys. I feel small and
secure and see God’s beauty engulf me as I hike or sit or stand in their
company. And now, I drive past endless
fields with horse and buggies sharing my road as I go to be with my mom with an unwelcome
diagnosis and fear of what the next months will bring.
Our family left British Columbia knowing that this was our
time to come back. Many were perplexed
on how we could leave such beauty of the glorious west coast. We had made a home there, it was the only real
home our children had known. We had a
great church community, and friends, and jobs were enjoyed and valued. And yet we
left it to move back to small south western Ontario, it just didn’t make sense
to some.
As I drove that Saturday it made sense to me. Deep down in my gut I knew that this was my "such a time as this" moment. Did I want
to embrace the next stage my parents had no choice but to walk? I could have chosen to do it from far off but now, only 64 km away, I was very aware that this
path would be a hard one, a sad one, and a challenging one. I wanted to bolt and take any other road than
the one I was heading down. Could I be
present to those I loved dearly in these sorrowful moments? To watch as my mom slips away from me and my
dad and my sisters and brother and all the lives she touches daily. This road
would take me to it. I wanted more time,
abundant health, and moments for my children to have relationships with my
parents; the years I was away weighed heavy on my heart.
Maybe it was the last track of the CD that made me slow way
down and unclench the steering wheel.
The gravel side road greeted me as I stopped the van to absorb my
surroundings. It was lovely looking and
still.
My view at the side of the road |
I felt gratitude that I had this moment. I felt sadness mingled in with joy. I felt a sense of security that only God can give- not in a way that I had imagined for myself. Those who know me well know that one of my favourite scriptures is Psalm 18.
David speaks of crying out to God in his distress and His
rescuing God hears him and comes down to him.
God draws David out and sets him before Himself. Verses later David is empowered by the Lord to
take on his enemies and comes out triumphant. David continues to praise the Lord for His
unfailing kindness to him. The verse
that arose in my heart as I breathed in and out as Fernando sang out the last
stanza of “Give me Jesus” was this…. “ He brought me out into spacious places;
He rescued me because He delighted in me” [or the Message Translation “ He stood me up on a wide open field; I stood
there saved, surprised to be loved”]
He brought me out. His timing. Out. Not hidden. Spacious place. Wide open
where I could extend my arms and breathe.
He rescued me – took me up from a harmful place in my mind-
because He delighted in me. Because He delights in me.
I got back into my van turned my music off and set off to my
parents' home.
I entered that home with tears and embraced my mom with
absolute thankfulness that I could make the drive and be so close to do
it. I sat and listened and laughed as my
sister and brother reminded us of childhood memories. I helped my dad make
lunch and serve the woman who has spent decades serving us. The hard doesn’t disappear, however being in the presence of cherished ones in this present situation is
life-giving. The future is unknown and
scarfs have been purchased to manage this new stage of cancer. We hug and cling to one another and say our
byes for now cause it's getting late. And yet …. I am thankful for my back roads
that bring me back home.