Barefoot Bonnie and her Brown Leather Chair

Eggs woke me up on time this morning. According to her biometric clock, I should be roused by 7:45 am. When I feigned sleep, she chirped insistently, and then cuddled with, licked, and then nipped my arm. Her efforts paid off and I soon sank into Bonnie's hand-me-down, brown, leather chair with coffee in hand.

Not only does the soft seat remind me of Bonnie, it moves in every direction, offering comfort to my odd joints. In fact, I'm typing in it right now, thankful for a place to work besides my bed.

I watched Bonnie go through a lot in this chair. I fed her almost once a week for over a year and wiped tears as well as stray hairs that got caught under her glasses. When coughing spells wracked her body, I used tissues to wipe the sputum she coughed up, trying hard not to gag.

Once, when I fed her chicken nuggets, I used a tissue to extract a piece of grizzle from her mouth. I set it aside, finished feeding her the meal, and then started on dessert. After watching her eat several bites of a sugar cookie, I longed for a mere morsel. Eyeing a cookie crumb on her plate, I claimed it as my own, only to realize I was chewing her discarded chicken grizzle.

Appalled, I quickly removed it from my mouth and considered keeping the incident to myself. But knowing Bonnie, I thought better of it. I soon let her know we were connected in a very special way, since I'd chewed her very own chicken grizzle.

Over time, we got a lot of mileage out of my mishap.

Bonnie laughed a lot in this chair and made jokes I haven't forgotten. Which is why, in the end, I think she'd be pleased with the second song I surprisingly wrote for her funeral. I didn't plan it. It just happened. And Lu liked it so much she insisted that I sing it at the close of the service.

You see, Bonnie had asked to be buried in the dress she wore when she married, Eddie, Lu's brother, a decade earlier. Lu knew where the dress was, but hadn't been able to find the fancy shoes that wouldn't have slid on Bonnie's severely swollen feet anyway.

When the moment came and the funeral director arrived, we were all tired and a bit loopy after being up all night. As the tall, gentle man wheeled our friend's body to the door, he stopped and asked about the clothes.

Lu looked up at him like a little girl from her place on the sofa and said, "I have her clothes together, but I can't find her shoes."

With a knowing smile he simply replied, "It's really okay."

And that's the moment these words began to form in my semi-warped mind.

Because while every other detail our dear friend laid out was adhered to, the truth is, Bonnie was Buried Barefoot, and I really don't think it mattered. In fact, I think it was apropos. And if you have minute to listen to the song, you might just understand why.

Bonnie fought to live in a way I hope to mirror as I press on with my illness. But there will come a day when all my efforts will be forgotten and left behind. And on that day, you can bury me barefoot too.





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When Your Cup Is Feeling Empty on the Lover's Holiday

Eggs, our tabby cat, jumped on my bed and chirped at me before 8am this morning. As she pranced around my frame, she chattered-on, like an annoying alarm clock, till I finally stirred. Coffee in hand, I stumbled to the living room and sat on the floor across from Don's chair. Enthralled with his morning Bible study, he eagerly shared.

It was easy to listen since he's been parked in one of my favorite passages this week. It begins like this:

"For this reason I kneel before the Father, in whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith" (Ephesians 3: 14 - 17).

I just caught a typo.

I accidentally wrote, "So that Christ may SWELL in your hearts through faith."

While it's not the correct verbiage, I love the image of Christ's love swelling up in us, like an ocean wave that catches you off guard or a rush of water that lifts you high.

Movement. Flow. Life-giving current.

That's the love of God, rushing toward you.

As much as the thought stirs me, I know it's not easy to grasp. For I'm not talking about a feel-good type of love. I'm talking about a love that requires us to be strengthened with power through his spirit in our inner being!

It doesn't just happen. You don't just "fall" into it. You cultivate it. You fight for it. You believe it's real on the worst of days. And perhaps even more so on the Valentine's Day you don't get red roses or a box of chocolate.

For the apostle Paul's prayer continued, "And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God" (Ephesians 3: 17 - 19).

Do you get it? We need power from on high to merely grasp the depth, width, height, and length of the Love of God.

That love surpasses knowledge.

And when we know it, we can be filled with the fullness of God.

"The fullness of God?" you ask. "Really?"

I hear you. I can't wrap my brain around it either.

But think about this, if knowing his love allows us to be filled with the fullness of God, then no wonder it's so hard to really grasp divine love on this side of eternity.

Again, we have to fight to know it. We have to believe with everything in us that love indeed conquers death.

Some of you are really sick. Or grieving. Or in serious financial need. Others are surrounded by family and have a stash of chocolate in wait.

Either way, this is your day, simply because we pray, "to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work with us..." (Ephesians 3: 20).

Don't take that lightly. Bank on it. Say it over and over. So when that moment comes - the one where someone says something hurtful that makes you want to sink into your skin and doubt your self worth - the truth is deep in your psyche and pulls you from the lie. 

He wants us to know His love. He wants us to be rooted and established in it.

And even changed for the world to see.

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The Day that Bonnie Flew

Early Friday morning, I chose a gingerbread coffee pod and placed it in Bonnie and Lu’s Keurig. When a soft-orange mug was full, I carried it back to where Bonnie lay on her bead, laboring to breathe.

A small coke had offered a pick-me-up around eleven the night before, and another sufficed around three in the morning. A short nap in between kept me going till a wonderful hospice nurse decided to stay the course. When she promised to wake us if anything changed, my niece Jessica, and I slept for another hour.

By 7 am, I held that cup of coffee, and sat with Jess and Bonnie, singing and waiting till the last breath came.

I introduced Jessica and Bonnie last July when the effects of ALS forced Bonnie to hire more caregivers. Knowing Bonnie quite well, I had a hunch that my niece, a nursing student, would be a great fit.

And she was.

Jessica took care of Bonnie on Fridays and Saturdays, helping her through her morning routine. While Bonnie could be a handful due to her OCD tendencies that were magnified by her paralyses, an inborn sweetness endeared her to all who cared for her, including me and Jess.

So when we knew the end was near, we both ended up at her side and stayed through the night.

There were several points when we thought it was time, only to watch the struggle continue. However, though it was hard to watch Bonnie suffer, I found it a most sacred place to dwell.

Walking someone to heaven’s door is a privilege I don’t take lightly. For when you wade deep to the edge of this world, you stand in the place of all things eternal. There, I find nothing here matters, not even much sleep.

Treading softly to that place with Jessica Friday morning, transformed it into something new. Sharing the journey with my grown-up niece, who is just starting her medical career, brought us together in a sacred way I will never forget.

She administered morphine and checked Bonnie’s vitals while I sang and cracked jokes. My favorite moment of the evening occurred after midnight, when Ann, Bonnie’s neighbor, Jess, and I had been worshipping for some time.

Together we’d been able to keep a flow of hymns going. When one forgot a word or verse, another jumped in. We did well till we reached the third verse of Because He Lives.

We started strong, “And then one day, I’ll cross that river. I’ll fight life’s final war with pain…”

Our voices grew in strength, “And then as death gives way to victory…”

Surprisingly, the words hung in the air as we stared at each other, waiting for someone to remember the next line.

But no one did. And all at once, we erupted into laughter, hoping Bonnie had been conscious enough to enjoy our blunder.

Ann left the room to find a hymnal. Jess looked up the words on her IPhone. And many hours later, around 9:50 am, we watched the verse come to completion when Bonnie breathed her last, “I’ll see the lights of glory and I’ll know He lives.”

Once again, it’s taken me days to finish this blog. An unexpected bout of reflux Sunday night didn’t help. Severe pain woke me around 1:30 am and continued till I had Don call 911. When an EMT confirmed my vitals were only slightly elevated, I treated myself for reflux and eventually slept.

When I could hardly stay awake the last two days, I saw my doctor. Poor food choices combined with a new anti-inflammatory medicine seem to have caused the episode that must have irritated my lungs. Antibiotics have perked me up so I’ll draw this to a close.

Bonnie was an only child whose parents died long ago. But as our small group gathered around her in her final hours, I thought of this verse, “God sets the lonely in families” (Psalm 68: 6).

Her neighbor, Ann, wiped tears. Her caregivers, Jess and Cindy, stood at her side, overflowing with their own emotion. Sherrie, our Bible study leader, joined in after dropping her son off at school and grabbed tissues as well. 

There together, we recognized how God had woven us into the fabric of Bonnie's life. Five years before, our pastor had given Sherrie a list of names to call about joining her Monday night Bible study group. Out of the list of thirty, Lu and Bonnie had been the only ones to join. Two years later, Sherrie invited me, and later, I introduced Jess.

Throw in Lu, her sister-in-law, who faithfully served her the last six years and Ann, her neighbor who loved her through thick and thin, and it was quite obvious that The Almighty had been at work, taking care of His imperfect, sometimes head-strong, yet very sweet servant, Bonnie.

She was surrounded by family in her final moments. God’s family.

And it was a beautiful thing.

I shared this song a few months ago and will post it again in honor of my friend. For she will always be, Part of Me.







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