I'll dry my eyes and let you dry yours (for a minute anyway), but if you haven't read this post from last summer, it will tell you a little more about my Papa:
(Papa Part 1 )
It will give you a little more background on Papa and why I was so close to him. I'm not sure exactly how this post is going to work out...if it's going to be the beginning of a series or if I'm going to simply tell bits and pieces scattered through-ought my posts...I'm praying for the Spirit to lead me and see where God takes it and what He wants us all to learn from what Jordan and I have been through the last couple of months and really what the last 14 years of my life without Papa has been like. Which also happen to be my first 14 years with Jesus. So saddle up, hold on, I'm praying and diving in to see if my fingers can keep up with the thoughts in my brain (fat chance there!) but we'll see what happens when Rachelle's creative brain thoughts are sent through the proper channels and filters into a blog post and not unfiltered in the midst of psychosis number 3!
To back up a little before I was watching my Papa slowly slip away, I believe it was my freshman year in high school that a family friend (I think, I cant remember!) gave me the book, "Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul Journal." by Mark Victor Hansen and another guy...I loved reading all of those books, especially when I was sick as a kid. Anyway, it had space for you to ask friends and family members to write to you in it. I'm so incredibly grateful for that book....not only because I have the hand written words (means even more now 14 years into the techno age that was "just taking off" when I was growing up...I wonder if some kids even know what hand written letters are???) of several family members that have been gone for awhile, but I have the advice I got as a teenager from my family written down so I can look back a decade and a half (holy cow I'm getting old!) ;) later and remember reading it and then seeing what I took to heart and how my life changed as a result of that advice. For me, there were some really key things in there that I know God ordained for me to read during this last psychosis to demonstrate multiple things to me. There is SO much to try to convey it's impossible to in one blog post so I am trying to focus in and work on putting some stuff together to see about a book of some sort as I have so much material. Jord and I went to my Grandma's house and she kept a bunch of stuff I had written that I had totally forgotten about (like a sales pitch I wrote for one of Papa's fly traps when I was 11!) and journals from Mrs. McCoy's Freshman English class (I also have all of my paper's from High School and College in my hope chest that I still have to go through)....I guess my Grandma taught me how to hoard the important stuff before hoarding was "cool" as Willie accuses his Mom, Miss Kay from Duck Dynasty of doing. ;) Anyway, major rabbit trail developing there: So right before my Papa was diagnosed with Melanoma in May of 1999, I had given the book to friends at school and several family members and I asked Papa to write in it. He put it right next to his chair (I think all Papa's have "their" chair, don't you?) and every day I got off the bus and came in if he was there, I'd ask, "Did you write in it yet Papa?" He would appear to shrug or smile or just say, "Not yet, but I get about two words a day." One day he took the book out, said, "Here's the first two words" and wrote, "Brag Time" at the top of the page. To this day that pen and those words are all that are on the "Grandparent's page" in that book. My Grandma had already written in it so Papa's page is still blank below those first two words. I thought he was joking about "getting two words a day" but after living a little more of life, looking at family pictures of him at our last family lake trip where he is staring off into the distance at the sheer rock cliffs at Apache Lake, and realizing just how accurate a description of life being like Mountains is.
My Papa was a man of few words, but when he spoke, you listened because I don't ever remember hearing a purposeless word come out of his mouth. He turned "every day boring" stuff into life lessons that his kids and grandkids will never forget. God saw fit to bring the number of his days to an end at 62 just as I got my permit. The last time I talked to him, I told him I was driving Mom home for the first time. He was the one that when I was eight years old (and being raised in the country), we were driving down Tangerine Rd. in Tucson, I asked him if I could drive when we got to the dirt road. We were in his Chevy pickup and I was sitting in the middle of the bench seat next to him. Without saying a word, he took his hands off the wheel and I surprisingly quickly grabbed hold of the wheel (for all I know now he may have sneakily kept his knee on it!) and "drove" all the way home from Tangerine Road to where my parent's (and let's be honest, us kids!) still call home, outside of Marana. When we got to the dirt road, he stopped, set me on his lap and I got to operate the gas pedal from there too. Back to driving Mom home for the first time...in that good ole Pontiac...that was a stick shift and she didn't realize that I had never driven past third gear in a stick shift because I couldn't go that fast on the dirt roads. Let's just say the engine saw a lot of RPM's that day. ;) And there was an accident on the frontage road near Misslebase, so what would normally have been a smooth, not a lot of people road from Marana to the frontage road out to the house, became cars backed up, helicopter landing in the middle of the road, having to slow down, pull off the side of the road...not the best first drive home....especially for a Mom who probably knew at that point that the end of Papa's life was closing in a lot faster than we all wanted to admit. I can still see Mom and Netta coming driving in the dirt road the next morning--together--us kids had gone for a morning horseback ride and I knew when I saw them together that Papa was no longer with us. We got back to the house and I just remember Aunt Netta whispering in my ear as she wrapped me up in a big bear hug, "Papa's in heaven."
With those words, my world was turned upside down. I didn't truly realize how much until recently. Living with a chronic illness is hard and wears on you...add to that mix trying to "people please" or sin by "fearing man" instead of God, be the "perfect" older sister (which I feel like PCD takes away so much of what I WANT to be able to do for my siblings), get good grades, become an Oncologist to research Melanoma...then realize with the "ah close enough" personality you were not designed for research so you switch to Nursing because that's family friendly and even though you didn't want to get married until you graduated college, there's this guy...it's not THAT serious...we are just hanging out and having fun but if "something" happens I'm not going to stop it...lo and behold, "what are we doing??" turns into "dorting" which turns into getting engaged, which turns into trying to leave and cleave...a little too soon for Momma whose trying to figure this all out as Shel has changed so much in such a short time. Shel loves Momma too much to want to hurt her, but she REALLY loves this Jordan guy....we are 19 and trying to "figure" life out and like all 19 year olds say some things we wish we could take back. Oh yeah, Aunt Netta, Momma's identical twin is fighting Breast Cancer at 42 in the midst of all of this....after losing Papa....after losing Great Grandma Duncan....right before losing Great Grandma Kitterman....and I moved out and moved in with my future in-laws (who just try to advise me the best they know how with the information I am feeding them), quit school (looks like emotional impulsive decision to my family, but I had been praying about it for a year because I wanted to be a stay at home Mommy anyway!), and we decide to just get married and let God lead us. Relationships are shattered to smithereens it seems, but thankful to say, God is a God who loves to restore broken relationships. It hasn't been easy, it has been a process, one that at times appears to go one way when you were assured you were to go another...a lot like walking through a Mountain Range you might say.
Fast forward to this present day Valley. Looking back on decisions Jord and I made almost 9 years ago, you can see God's hand guiding and orchestrating things. Right after Jordan and I got married, my health started degenerating again rather quickly and I was diagnosed with Bronchiectasis secondary to the PCD...I never would have made it through clinicals as much as I would have wanted to finish. I know I can always go back--and God never wastes anything. The knowledge I gained in my two full years of pre-med weed out classes (ah MCB181 I will never forget you!) has helped me understand the body in a much better way which has helped me be an advocate for myself as I struggle to get care in this broken healthcare system. Ah but God is sovereign over THIS valley, just as He was sovereign over those valleys 9 and 14 years ago. As Jord and I were 4wheeling a couple weekends ago with our trusty leader with the "little Green Jeep that just goes" (AKA Cole from Vroom who graduated from Marana High as well...just a "few" years before me) ;) I looked around at the terrain as we climbed through valleys, got to some gorgeous vistas, took tons of pictures (like 1K plus...on my phone...yep...multi-shot for the win!), and listened to worship music and talked to my hubby....I cried as I realized that I had been given a gift not many today are. I had recently listened to an old Resolved Sermon that shared Jonathan Edwards "death bed" words...something our culture pushes away and runs from. They run because they are afraid of death or don't want to truly face their mortality--whatever the reason may be, they run from a gift. We can LEARN from those that go before us...wisdom comes with experience and humility...and begins with fearing God, not men, as I have taken 29 years to truly come to terms with. Proverbs is becoming more and more appealing! :)
My Grandpa KNEW for four months that he was dying, and because of him, I have always loved to be around adults and have tried to listen and take in and learn what I can from them. He was off the charts brilliant...after he was diagnosed I wrote a letter to him pleading for him to say out loud, "I love you." I had never heard those words from his lips and didn't understand why. I'm a girl that likes to hear words, but one other thing Papa told me through the tears was that saying words that didn't mean anything wasn't Papa, but THIS, his special wave, was Papa. Every single person in our family knows exactly what that is...he would wave to us with his thumb and forefinger....he may never have said those words to me out loud, but looking back and even then, I knew I was blessed to have a Papa who loved me with far more than words---he gave me his love every day of his life...he'd wake up smiling and hit me with his socks as he put a teaspoon of honey in his cup of tea as he'd say, "Top O the Morning to you El". Then we'd get in an argument about 2+2=5 and how he never went to Kindergarten...got a little older and realized there WASN'T a kindergarten and as it turns out, Jord as a joke wrote 2+2=5 on one of his Calculus professor's board before class to be funny and the teacher PROVED---albeit over 4 boards---that 2+2=5....so apparently Papa knew some pretty cool theoretical math that just goes right over my head. :) But more than all of that I have his "death bed" words and in once sentence he tried to convey to his 15 year old granddaughter what he learned in living 62 years on this earth.
Before he died, I wrote a "Mountains" journal to him and framed it with a homemade card of me and Buddy on it. My last gymkhana was the first time I pushed Buddy...me and my now "Old Man" as I refer to him haven't been to a barrel race in awhile but I have a feeling we both might try to get back in shape for some running just because we can. Papa was the one that encouraged Mom to let me be the first one to get on him...a three year old recently gelded Stud...at 13 years old and weighing in at 80 something pounds dripping wet. Papa got the video camera out as we went to the round pen--in my shorts and boots--it was hot! We were all expecting some sort of "rodeo", but Buddy simply turned his head and looked up at me as if to say, "What are you doing up there?" No matter how hard I kicked he stood there unless someone got in and led him. Papa had a stubborn streak that he passed on to all of us and "Your Busted Buddy!" DEFINITELY had a stubborn streak but the way I learned to get him to learn to move forward was to pull his head to the side with the bridle and hold gentle pressure until his neck got tired and he moved his feet. He was then rewarded by the release of the pressure. I feel like that's how Papa lived his life. He knew that if you just sat there and kicked me harder I would just "dig my spurs in" so to speak and stare you down and be indifferent...instead of using force he challenged me in a way that no one else did that "called out" the best in me without crushing my spirit, like Buddy's spirit obviously had been. Or the stories he told and that I've heard of life lessons to Mom, Aunt Netta and Aunt Dawn....oh the STORIES I wish I could hear, I wish I could see, I wish he was still here to share this journey called life with me...But God had other plans....we all have "our" plan for our lives, but often times our lives take a completely different route than we plan. But God ALWAYS accomplishes His purposes and they never fail. Isaiah 55 is one of my favorite chapters in the Bible that reminds us that His ways are higher than ours but as the rain comes down from heaven His Word NEVER comes back void. What grace and comfort there is in those words for me!
Papa was the pillar of our family and when God took him, He introduced me to Himself. Yet it's taken me these last 14 years to finally openly confess that PCD DOES make me angry. I am and have been silently angry at God and PCD and all the "take aways" for a lot of years, but would never admit it even to myself...but it showed up in my "frustrations" at PMS time or my "just need to cry moments" or when the "little things" would tick me off. That is sin...but we are human and when it is confessed and Jesus is your Savior it's forgiven!! Done. Never brought up again. As far as the East is from the West. I FINALLY really understand what Rick Holland was preaching about at GBC's 10th anniversary....we don't have to choose between Jesus or this or Jesus and this...but if Jesus is FIRST IN YOUR LIFE, you can pursue your passions and desires because HE MADE YOU....and He made you as unique as snow-flakes and as resilient as Honey Badgers (Honey Badger Don't Care!)
So I guess all this is to say, look out world, God has refined Rachelle's heart and this country girl is coming up kicking and ready for the rodeo...after all as they say, "You can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl."
Below is one of the first of many poems I wrote. I didn't think I could shorten the journal I wrote to my Papa, but Aunt Dawn challenged me to for a poetry contest, and this is what came of it and was the beginning of a lot of poems. Looking back, God has given me the gift of writing to express all my "pent up" emotions and things I would never "freely" admit to...even to myself. Grateful He is a longsuffering God who loves me and died for me, the "chief of sinners", right next to Paul, Lord willing, an instrument in her precious Savior's hands. Lord, please use this ransomed life in anyway you choose...no matter the cost....for Your great glory!!!!!!!
Mountains
The
green valley’s amid white-capped mountain peaks,
The
joy of birth, a new life in this world,
Barren
lands among falling boulders sweeping down the mountainside,
The
harshness and pain of death, losing the one you loved so.
Climbing
mountains all your life,
Mt.
Everest a major feat,
Reaching
the top of a hill, unnoticed at the time.
Working
your way through life,
Graduation
and embarking upon your new world,
Learning
to breathe, instinct led you through.
Facing
challenges,
Boulders
sweeping you off your path,
Accomplishing
your dreams,
Seeing
the peak of a mountain past,
But
alas, you are just at the base of another.
Cancer
raging through a family, tearing lives apart,
A
brave man, crying, telling his family not to worry,
For
he has just reached the peak of his last mountain,
The
last of a series of mountains, the mountains called life.
Rachelle
Thomas
Running Hard for His Glory!
Rachelle :)
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