Dang, I am funny!

So, Ashleigh Hatch left me a comment I read yesterday morning. She was glad to see I had posted, and wanted me to know she had missed reading my "random, funny" posts.


Who, me?


I actually went back through and read, because funny has been so hard for me to come by in the last month.


She was right, I am funny. I mean really, if you forgot too go back to the post where I get my new toy, the external hard drive. That's good stuff people.


But, alas, no funny here. I am breaking the news to you that has already been broken to my family, close friends (like, the ones who live less than 50 miles away), and church family. Savannah is nearing the end. A month ago, we were told about two months, and it really is progressing in like manner. So I am lacking in funny.

We have been hearing Melissa say for months, nay, years, that if the Lord's will is to take her, then so be it. It will be hard, but we in our church believe in eternal families. We believe that when the Savior comes again, and He will, that Melissa will then have the opportunity to watch Savannah's body grow and develop to the perfect state that it was always meant to be. Her daughter will be in that body, with her Spirit, the one that those close to her know so well. And she will still be Brian and Melissa's daughter, their eternal marriage lays claim, ENTITLES them to that.

The hard part seems to be continuing to live life. There are some days, like yesterday. Neighbors and friends, and total strangers, gathered together per one (somewhat high strung) man's idea, and created the most beautiful garden out of an area that was overgrown with weeds. It is unreal. Pictures later.

And then other moments, Melissa reels from the pain of what someone says. So many want to "help". They are our brothers and sisters, who want to "fix" things. There is nothing to fix. The cancer has won, and the Lord has made His desires for His child clear. She will be healed. In the next life. Her work is almost done.

Melissa, on the other hand, needs people to stop talking. She needs no reassurances, she knows them. She needs no self-help books, she has them. She needs no advice from moms who have buried their children. They didn't bury Savannah. They won't miss her passing gas jokes, and her silly talk to entertain a baby, her beautiful blue eyes. They can't help.

The only one who can help, is the one who is taking her home in the first place. If you who know her, think that Heavenly Father is directing you to offer help, I testify to you He is not. She hasn't received a letter or phone call, that says do or read this, that has blessed her life. The blessings come in the letters and calls that say, "I love you." "I'm sorry for your loss." "I'm here if you need me."

Melissa has grown to rely on me quite a bit. I think the only way that happened is because, while I have a seven year old, I have never been able to wrap my brain around the idea of him having cancer. Or any of my kids. This leaves me completely open to take everything and anything that Melissa feels and says as the way it should be. And I defend her decisions, every last one, the way I defend my own testimony. To the death if I have to, but often harder, I defend them through life. And the desire to protect her, as my own mother would protect me, is a little over whelming at times. I think it is how I would feel if she were truly my sister. And in Christ, she is.

Maybe the next post will be funnier. But please don't hold your breath.

Love to you all.