Thumbprint On My Soul

Acts 2: 26 “Therefore did my heart rejoice, and my tongue was glad; moreover also my flesh shall rest in hope:”

Yesterday my day was going along normally with me pitter-pattering around. I left to go to the store and in this small town that takes an hour or so. The drive was nice, the scenery was beautiful as the sun blemished the brown fields, and gas is a pretty low penny so the fill-up meant my day was going nicely as I silently rejoiced in all of God’s blessings. 

I returned home to see a package on my steps. Another praise Jesus moment because the postman usually takes it back to the Post Office and leaves me a note to pick up the parcel. Not this day and I was so glad because I had been waiting for this package for four whole days!

If you remember back in December when I received a box, there was some damage in the way that the Old Bay had exploded all over everything and left all of the contents smelling, how shall I say – seasonal? After all, it was Christmas and the rush to get packages delivered probably became a hurried chore and boxes got damaged.

Not this box though, no way, this was the box with my necklace that my mother purchased for me (and one for my sister) when my father passed away. It is a beautiful shiny pendant that not only has my fathers’ actual thumbprint on the front, it has my dads date of birth and death on the back along with his name. Talk about holding a part of my father in my hand. My eyes overflowed with tears as I held it to my heart and wept. 

Earlier in the day when my mother left me a message that she took her medicine, (this is my way of making sure she takes her medicine every day, because I NEED her alive) she said my father woke her up. I chuckled. So here my dad woke her up, made sure my package was on my steps, and when I called mother last evening our nightly ritual began. 

We started talking about my dad waking her up. She said, “Joni, I was sound asleep and I hear a tap tap tap on the bedroom door and I jumped up.” She went on to tell me how my dad always came to check on her by eleven in the morning to make sure she was alive? And he’d do so by tapping on the bedroom door. 

This isn’t the first instance that my dad has made himself known to her. There are just too many times to mention and no, my mother is not insane, she is in love and misses her best lifelong friend and he lets her know he is ever present in their home. I don’t judge because I’ve had my own experiences with my dad in some form communicating to me. 

For instance, I was in my laundry room talking to my mother. We were talking about the necklace and the box and all that was in the box and at that moment, all the lights on my washing machine lit up as if it was going into cycle. No, it was off, but all of the lights blinked on and chills ran up my arm and I just smiled because to me, my father was letting me know that he was there. 

I have a friend who just lost her father and I bet she has the same instances where her dad is letting her know and the rest of her family know, that he is a okay! I have a lot of friends actually who know what to look for in seeing their loved ones who have passed. I also know a lot of folks never see anything and I think it is because they’re just not believers in anything spiritual or supernatural, you know, things you can’t explain? Well, to non-believers nothing ever happens. To believers, we see everything!

My father left a thumbprint on my soul and now I carry his very thumbprint next to my heart. And coincidentally, there’s a hurricane out in the Atlantic. The first time in January since… the year my dad was born. They even named it after him, Alex! *wink wink*

God rest your soul, Dad!

Mark 8:18 “Having eyes, see ye not? and having ears, hear ye not? and do ye not remember?”

Death Is Never Easy

Pss. 23:4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Death is never easy…

Death is never easy when it hits close to home. I mean, it’s hard any time when we see death surrounding us on the battlefield called earth. People dying everywhere your heart just aches.

Then someone like an online friend dies and though you never knew the person physically, you still feel like something is missing from your spirit. A part of your heart has a burn hole in it. Then a friend loses a mother or a father or sadly both parents the hole begins to grow. Online friends become your family over years and years of communication. They become a part of your everyday life, so to speak.

Now when a family member from your bloodline passes away, someone who you actually grew up with in your physical world, shared Christmas’ with and passed on the road from child to adult, the sting is even harder.

Yesterday, the 25^th, my aunt passed away. She was a jolly soul, tall with graying hair, always a   bright smile and a laugh to share. A little on the heavy side but she never let that hinder her from having a good life, attending church or being a social butterfly always fluttering around from place to place.

I can’t remember exactly when they found a tumor but I know she wanted to have back surgery and it was discovered. They had to remove the tumor before cutting into her back. They discovered the tumor, removed and chemo-therapy ensued. They found another tumor and more chemo, another then the same thing over and over for the past year.

She began losing the weight as the cancer was eating her away. That did not stop her smiles. When she had the strength she’d continue doing what she did. Attended church, visited with her grandchildren, hugged her children, and enjoyed the community of Locust Point and what bit of vibrancy that was left in her.

I remember in my younger years she always called me Noni. She had told me of how when I was really little just learning to speak, I had called her Aunt Nerl, for Aunt Gerald, so she would jokingly hug me and say, “There’s Noni.” She was never short on hugs and every time she saw me she’d say, “There’s Noni.” And give me one of the hardiest of hugs.

I don’t think any of my other aunts loved me like she did. Living over a thousand miles away for the past twelve years hasn’t allowed me many visits back home, but the one time I did go back to see my mother in the hospital, Aunt Nerl showed up and there she said again, “There’s Noni!”

She always told me that I reminded her of her. Always laughing, always seemingly happy, making others laugh and just a personality that mirrored hers. That made me pretty proud because no offense to my other aunts, they were not as jovial as we were/are. Since my Aunt Gerald is my father’s sister, I could see where my DNA had coursed.

Yesterday was a tough day for my mother and father. My dad almost seemed irate when he learned that my brother had found out about my aunts death on the computer. They are not of the computer age and think this gadget is a turnstile from hell. He doesn’t understand that facebook is used as a source of comfort when we need to be consoled. My cousins announced their mothers’ death to seek comfort not to degrade her in any way and I tried to let my parents know that.

Thumbprints are left on the soul. We have people in our lives that leave lasting prints never to be washed away. Whether these people are online friends or physical beings in your life, a print is made and you cling to the person via the memories and stories left on your soul.

We all mourn differently. This past week as my mother kept telling me to pray for my aunt, I told her I was praying for her peace, not her miraculous healing. While I am notably an optimist and believe in miracles, I knew when I heard that my aunt had cancer of the blood, it would not be long before I heard of her death. The realist in me accepted this portion of the journey that we must all take.

Last Saturday my aunt was given forty-eight hours to live. It was a miracle that by Monday morning she had a chance to sit up, eat some jell-o and meet with her kids one last time. By Sunday the 25^th, her needed organs ceased to function and she went on into eternal peace, just what I prayed for. Peace from the continued suffering. Peace to let go and meet the Lord head on. Peace to finally be free of these earthly restrictions.

Death is never easy for the living.

Pss. 61: 1-4  Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer.
From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy.
I will abide in thy tabernacle for ever: I will trust in the covert of thy wings. Selah.