Thanksgiving, 2007

I have a lot to be thankful for. I have a roof over my head. My husband and I have been married fourteen years. We bought this house seven years ago. Yet, I feel like it's become my home. I have my guitars, my keyboard, food on the table, clothes to wear and friends who write me often, just to find out if I'm okay and this computer from which I can write to all of them.

So, why is it I feel so helpless, so small?

I think of Mom, lying in her hospital bed. While the doctors are saying that she is strong and she is fighting to stay alive, it's taking her a while to respond to questions asked by my sisters. Sandy told me that she got her to open her eyes and move her feet on Tuesday. Ebba has only gotten her to open her eyes. Sandy said that she tried to talk to her. But, Mom's face became constricted in pain when she tried to speak.

Sandy said that if she stops responding and the doctors tell her and Ebba that she's given up, they will pull the plug. Surviving on a respirator with IV needles, medication that keeps her sedated, whatever treatment they're using for MRSA., becoming agitated if someone stays too long. I can't imagine what she's going through.

Waiting, waiting for what? I just pray whatever the outcome, I will be brave enough to walk down whatever road God has in store for me. For now, I will be thankful for what time I've had with her, for everything going on around me, the blessings all of you have been who are reading this. Yet, I feel so alone.

Sometimes, I hate being the link between Mom's friends and the rest of the family. Mom and her oldest son are not speaking to each other. They haven't for six years, since his wife took over Mom's business when she retired. Ebba and I have taken turns calling Bob and letting him know what's going on. Well on Tuesday, a friend of the family, who has sided with Bob and Karla all along, called me and dared to suggest to me, that we should try to get Mom to speak to Bob. I told her that she needed to let it go, that she needed to understand Mom was fighting for her life. She then said she was sure Mom had told Ebba that she needed to smoke when she came round.

Other frirneds, like Jane McChesney, broke down crying in my years, and I had to be strong for her. Donna, her other friend, who I know probably is reading this. Donna, dear friend to all, gentle and calm, even now.

Sometimes though, I just need to know someone is there for me, and right now is one of those times.

Waiting. How long, Dear God? How long?