Month: January 2020

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When I was first born, we had neighbors whose backyard met up with ours.  Steve and Diane Shelton had 3 children (David, Kim, and Nicole) who were close in age to my brother and me. I spent many, many days and nights at the Shelton house and my memories are now such treasures.

During my dad’s battle with melanoma, while I was just a small child, the Shelton house became a safe haven for me.  My dad had always been unbelievably strong in my eyes. Yet, suddenly he was having surgeries, skin grafts, and chemo treatments.  He went from a strapping mid-thirties year old man who would take us on long bike rides to a fragile shell of a man who could barely walk to the corner of our street (and we were only the second house in).  Cancer absolutely ate him alive and my brother and I watched the inevitable process take place.

Over a period of 4 years, there were times that I felt very uneasy around my Dad.  I didn’t know what to do with my apprehensions and emotions. Many days were too much to bear.  So, I would walk through my backyard to the Shelton’s house. I was always welcomed with open arms and was treated like a member of their family.  Diane and her husband, Steve, would help me process through things in an age-appropriate way by asking simple questions: “How is your dad today? How are things at your house?”  And I knew I could say as little or much as I needed to (though I’m sure I rarely said much). I was shown so much love and compassion which made an unbearable situation become just a little more bearable.  

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At the Shelton house, I always got lost for hours in imaginative play. Kim, Nicole, and I would escape to our imaginary worlds as we set up pretend hospitals, played school, entertained ourselves with Barbie dolls, or anything else our young minds could dream up.  I remember a time when Diane brought home leftover envelopes, letterhead paper, “While You Were Out” pads, rubber bands, tax forms, pens, and so on from a tax service where she temporarily worked. `She carried home boxes of these leftover office supplies with us girls in mind.  For weeks on end, we did very important work as we filled out various business forms with our fancy looped handwriting that we called cursive. We “mailed” envelopes, wrote checks, and took phone messages. This captivating, lifelike world became a place of solace for me when my reality was extremely sad and grim.  

The night of my dad’s visitation (or wake/viewing, depending on where you live), I remember standing in the back of the chapel at the funeral home with Diane and my mom.  I was only 7 years old and felt completely lost in a world of grief. My heart was racing and my stomach felt queasy. I had seen my mom cry enough tears and I didn’t want to see her cry another, so I had to make my visit quick.  I stood upon the tiptoes of my black patent leather shoes in the back of the room gazing over the rows of pews that separated me from my daddy’s casket. I caught a quick glimpse of him laying at the head of the room in his dark blue casket.  I had never seen so many flowers altogether in one place. He was obviously a very loved man. In his hands was a light green piece of paper folded in half to make a card with the words, “Get Well Daddy” written in crayon. It was a card I had made for him at school one day during my free time.  The quick peek had been almost too much to bear, so I quickly looked up at Diane and said, “I’m ready to go.” I gave my mom a quick hug and then escaped the dark, somber room with Diane by my side.

The last 35 years have clouded many of the memories in my mind, but I know that upon leaving the funeral home, Diane took me back to the Shelton home, which had become my home away from home.  My solace. My place to escape from the pain felt at my house. I know that I was loved on patiently by an amazing lady who became a second mom to me.

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Diane, you will never know how much my time with you shaped me into who I am today.  I’ve only scratched the surface of all of my years of memories with you. You were our neighbor for 10 years in 2 different neighborhoods.  I will always remember the loving atmosphere that your home provided, the hundreds of sleepovers I had with Kim and Nicole, the cinnamon rolls on Saturday mornings, playing in Steve’s fishing boat in your garage, banging on your piano, curling up on your couch to watch movies, and the list goes on and on and on.  Most importantly, I will never forget the unconditional love that your family gave me at an intensely crucial time in my life. I love you.

And, Steve, just because this was written for Diane does not take anything from you. I will never forget your gentle, calm presence. Thank you for always making me feel loved and cherished. I’m so thankful that God knew exactly what I needed when he put you in my life so many years ago.

And now for my dear readers:  Who had a huge impact on you as a child?  Who opened their home to you and showed you unconditional love?  Who spent time with you and helped make you the person you are today?  Don’t wait! Send that person a card, give them a call, send them a text, send them flowers, take them out to lunch, or make a simple video on your phone.  Let them know how they’ve impacted you. And then be sure to post about it on our Facebook page. Don’t wait until it’s too late! 

I’m hoping by now that you have contacted the first person on your list of “Life Influencers,” which is what these special people will be referred to from this point on (see my last post HERE if you have not).  For me, my mom is number one on my list. She is the person that I can call at any time of the day or night for any reason whatsoever. I have the freedom to say whatever I need to as I’m working through tough times in life and she will still love me without judgment.  I know if I send her a quick text asking for prayer when things are tough, she will immediately call out to God on my behalf. I can talk about things with my mom that I wouldn’t dare talk to anyone else about, and I know she guards my secrets. Out of all of the things I can write about her, there is one thing that my mom has taught me that stands out above the rest.  Let me start from the beginning.

In 1976 I was born into a picture-perfect family.  We lived in a small town in southeastern Virginia and, to be honest, our life was pretty close to perfect.  My dad was an education specialist at a prison in my home town and my mother was a stay-at-home mom. Dad went to work every morning, was home by 4:15, and dinner was on the table at 4:30.  Mom tended to the needs of our family throughout the day and was home every afternoon when my brother and I arrived from school. We were that picture-perfect little family that you’d see in a movie.  My parents created a peaceful environment in our home full of love, respect, and security. We never knew heartache until that fateful year.  

In 1979, my dad had a mole taken off the back of his hand.  He found that putting his hand in and out of his pocket irritated it, so he had it removed.  His doctor sent it off to be biopsied, just to be on the safe side. The biopsy came back clear, but within a short amount of time, the mole grew back again. Another biopsy was performed and when the report came back, dad was told that the mole was not malignant, but was the type that could become malignant.  His doctor opted to admit him to the hospital to excise the area where the mole was removed, clean the area out, graft skin from his inner thigh to the area on his hand, and remove all lymph nodes under his arm.  The biopsy came back clear, so my parents breathed a sigh of relief and our lives carried on. 6 months later, my dad noticed a knot on the inside of his elbow. Another biopsy was performed and my parents were given life-altering news.  Dad had cancer.

Over the course of the next 4 years, dad went through countless surgeries and treatments.  During this time, my mom’s insurmountable strength became apparent. Throughout the entire ordeal, she was a steady force that remained by my dad’s side.  She traveled the 2 hour trip back and forth from our town to the facility where dad’s doctor was located countless times for chemo treatments, surgeries, tests, scans, and consultations.  She kept my dad encouraged and on track all while managing our household. She was a rock for our family during a tumultuous season of life.  

My mom’s love for my dad was matchless.  Near the end of his life, it became too difficult for him to sleep in their bed. He found that the couch was far more comfortable and manageable.  Mom didn’t want to be apart from him, so every night for 5 months, she slept on a folding lawn chair lounger padded with blankets next to my terminally ill father.  Dad’s wish was to remain at home until the end. In-home hospice care was at its early stages of development, so that was not an option for our family. The last few weeks of dad’s life were spent comatose in a hospital bed in our family room as mom nursed him until the bitter end.  At 34 years of age, she watched as her best friend and soulmate declined and eventually succumbed to death.  

The entire way through my dad’s fight with melanoma, mom’s faith never wavered. She believed with certainty that God was going to heal dad.  She never doubted for one second that God would choose another path for his life.

Of course, God didn’t heal dad.  Why? He could have. Mom asked that He would.  She believed with everything in her that He would.  Dad was only 37. Mom was 34 years old and was left with 2 children.  So, why did God choose not to heal him? Mom could have gotten bitter and angry and turned her back on God. But, what she taught me next has carried me through many dark days.  

Shortly after Dad’s death, Mom came across Isaiah 55:8-9 which says,

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.  For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”  

This verse brought my mom immediate peace.  She accepted that even if she didn’t understand it, God’s ways and thoughts are higher than ours.  Mom taught me that perfect faith is accepting God’s will no matter what that may be. It may not make any sense whatsoever.  It may seem cruel and unreasonable. BUT, He knows what is best for you and for me, even if we can’t see it.

Losing dad left a huge void in our lives.  But, over time God began to fill the hole that was left by sending an amazing man to marry my mom.  My “step” dad and I bonded quickly and God used him to heal my heart. He raised me, treated me as his own, and loved me unconditionally which lessened the sting of losing my first dad.  

But, in 2009, one of my worst nightmares came true.  My dad laid down on the floor to take a nap and never woke up.  How could this happen again?

Two days later, I was at my parents’ house and mom got in the shower.  I slipped in the bathroom after she was in because I was worried about her being alone.  She had no idea I was in the bathroom when she began praying a prayer that will stick with me forever.  Through her tears and sobs, she cried, “Lord, thank you for Steve. Thank you that you allowed me to be a part of his life.  Thank you that you blessed us with 24 years of marriage.” This soliloquy continued at a time when I could barely think straight because the grief was so heavy.  Mom had been widowed for the second time, once at 34 and now at 59. Yet, her faith never wavered. Oh, she had rough days. She cried daily for months. She went through one of the darkest times of her life.  But, she grabbed hold of the feet of Jesus and never let go.

Throughout my life, my mom has impacted me more than any other woman on the planet.  She has taught me the most important lesson that she could ever teach me: to love and serve Jesus even when life doesn’t make sense.  Anyone who meets her can plainly see her faith in Christ. The woman is rock solid and can’t be shaken by any circumstance in life. Is she perfect?  No, but she’s perfect for me. Mom made it through being widowed not just once, but twice thanks to God’s grace, mercy, and peace. I’m happy to report that she remarried in 2012 to another incredibly loving man, but that is a story for another post.

I would love to hear the way you have chosen to honor the first life influencer on your list. Go to my FACEBOOK page or comment on this post and fill us in.  I’d love to hear all about the interaction. If you haven’t done so yet, there’s still plenty of time. Remember, don’t wait until they’re gone when it’s too late.

And let’s not forget to live like my mom.  Pray for unshakeable faith. Trust in God’s plan no matter how it unfolds for you.  And share your faith with others the way Mom has with many others. Make sure that you don’t wait!