27 March 2024

Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we might find help in time of need’ Hebrews 4:16

Sorry, back already….I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon but there is much I want to say, thoughts I need to get down. I promise I’ll give you more of a break afterwards. But stick with me: today’s entry features an interactive kitchen disco- put your sparkles on now and get ready to party with me! But first, some musings…

We all expect, and hope, that we will get old, that we will see our children grow up, witnessing the stories of their lives unfolding and meeting grandchildren and maybe even great-grandchildren, enjoying all that this beautiful, albeit fallen and flawed, world has to offer. If we do it is a blessing and privilege, but it is not guaranteed and it is not essential. At the end of our lives none of this will matter. We arrive in this world with nothing and can take nothing out. I used to picture myself in my mid-eighties surrounded by hordes of grandchildren, a smattering of piano pupils to keep my brain active and a couple of cats (I don’t like cats, but figured they are pretty much a pre-requisite to an elderly piano teacher’s life). How very wrong I was about everything. I have been given a different path, one in which I fly out dancing and jumping on a trampoline and whizzing down fast slides. One which is more me, thinking about it… and exactly how it is supposed to be, in the providence and lovingkindness of God. How can I say that? I hear you scream. I can’t understand it, but I can say it because I believe it. I trust the one who cannot lie when he declares in His word that all things work together for good, that he will not suffer harm to his people, that there will be a glorious and joyful end in which all tears are wiped away.

One of my favourite stories goes like this: a man is close to death and a friend comments: ‘soon you will be leaving the land of the living’, but the man replies: ‘that’s where you’ve got it wrong: I’m leaving the land of the dying and going to the land of the living’. At best, this is the land of the dying.

Also, I must not look at what I won’t have in this world in the future, but at what I do have now, blessed beyond measure with a bigger family and more love than I could ever imagine. And all the wonderful things we will still do, the memories that we will make.

I prayed last night not for a miracle cure but for peace and grace, acceptance and happiness to face whatever may lie ahead. An answer came quickly: this verse was immediately brought to my mind out of nowhere:

‘Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’ Proberbs 3:5-6

That is what I shall do. I feel postive and energised this morning despite not dragging myself off the sofa and into bed until gone 1 a.m. (very naughty I know, but firstly there was no-one there to tell me otherwise and secondly I was writing both yesterday’s blog and starting this one: so many words are flying around inside my head and they need a home). Even at that late hour I didn’t sleep well, Irene waking me with night sweats and tummy issues at 2.30, again at 4 and finally at 6.40.

I stayed in bed until 9 doing some admin and taking the first steps into yet another project, one that I have to be feeling mentally strong enough to do and now was the right time. Isaac still likes me reading to him at bedtime and I have resolved to record me reading one of his favourite books from the Treehouse series, chapter by chapter. It’s a good one as it is fully of silly humour and I enjoy portraying the crazy characters’ different voices. When I have been reading to him recently my voice has struggled with cracking and my eyes with tears, but here on my own I manage to record the first two chapters with what I felt was an oscar-worthy performance; I always did love acting. I hope that not just Isaac but Jasper and yet-to-be-born grandchildren might enjoy it in years to come and that it will give them- and their parents- smiles, laughter and comfort.

I have another mission this morning, again one best completed while I am on my own: a trip to village funeral directors Burgess to discuss a preliminary ‘statement of wishes’- no commitment to anything but just to get the ball rolling and have the important stuff down on paper. Oh, the questions I need to ask, all of them practical but so terribly hard. If at all possible I want to be at home, in my own bed, surrounded by those I love. When the time comes, I would rather that people only see me there: I don’t want to be tarted up by the funeral directors for any kind of viewing- I have only worn make up once in my life, on my wedding day, and even then sneaked off to a hotel room to scrub it off my face half way through the day…

And the silly little details, but so important- should the clothes I want to be dressed in be provided to the funeral directors or will the getting changed bit happen at home? Are shoes allowed? I have a beautiful pair of heels to go with my outfit…

I realise that this will be very hard to read, but it shouldn’t be. We all put our heads in the sand but this will be each of us one day, maybe some sooner than they think.

I quite like pump days- I can’t shower or go in the oxygen chamber so just wash, throw some clothes on, put my hair up and am good to go. I select a pretty dress for my visit to Burgess, in order to convey to them that I am still very much alive and hopefully won’t be needing their services just yet. I quickly realise that a dress just doesn’t work with my pump, for reasons that I can’t be bothered to explain, so settle on a skirt with nice jumper instead and head to the village appreciating the beauty of another sunny morning.

The visit goes as well as possible and the lady I meet is wonderful: kind, sympathetic and understanding whilst being reassuring and practical, just what I was hoping for and I make it through the consultation with smiles and only a couple of tears. All of my questions are answered and I come away with a definite plan that will make it so much easier for Steve. In case you are wondering, shoes are very much allowed.

Another box ticked: I want to get all this stuff done and dusted and then put it away so that I can focus completely on the present. And today’s present is good: Irene is surprisingly quiet and well-behaved, not a dinner lady moan in sight. I only hope that she is using her energy to attack the cancer cells instead. The song: ‘Come on Eileen’ springs to mind; let’s change the words to ‘Come on Irene’ and sing it altogether to encourage her- one, two, three:

‘Come on Irene! Blast those cells to smithereens!’ (Ok so it nearly fits).

I can’t hear you yet! I think the addition of some dancing round the kitchen is required. Readers everywhere- now!

Ah that’s better, I think she heard. Keep singing and dancing, I promise I will.

When I get back I make lots of progress in the music room: everything for Isaac is organised into folders and labelled with little notes (‘Studies, scales and sight reading: you know you want to’), and I make neat piles of things to offer to ex-pupils and music teacher friends. Tick again.

Mum arrives at 3.30 accompanied by lovely brother James. I’m not sure that just the three of us have been together since our childhood; it is a truly special time and we talk into the evening. Mum takes over Steve’s role of encouraging (forcing) me to drink, and persuades me to get off the sofa and into bed at a reasonable time. Where I sit blogging until midnight…there’s always tomorrow…

‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ John 3:16