The hospital in my hometown is a like pile of memorial stones for me. A place I can go, pick up each memory like a rock and remember God's faithfulness in certain situations. The hospital is exactly 3 miles from my parents' house. I know because I drove it countless times to visit my Gramma Stowe when she was there, and then a few years later I drove it every night for a week after New Years: my mom's best friend, the mother of my childhood best friend, was dying of cancer. My parents were working overseas, and the family of this dear woman (my second-mother) was unaware of the severity of her pain and the imminence of her death. No doubt Judy was doing two things: being her optimistic self, and protecting her family. But Judy (or her nurse) would call me every night at about 1am. I'd throw on my winter coat and boots, run to my car and drive 3 miles. It was below zero, and the short drive wasn't enough time for the car heater to warm up so I'd arrive at the hospital half awake, but all my muscles tensed in futile effort to keep me warm. I'd hurry up to Judy's room and rub her back while she tossed and turned until daylight. Finally, after about 5-6 nights, I called my dad to ask him to send Mom home. She would want to be there for this. And so she hopped the next flight available, and showed me once again what true friendship looks like: you become your best friend's hospice nurse for six weeks, and you change her dressings, and you hold her hand when she slips away, and you hug her kids like a mom would, and you coordinate meals for the family, and, and, and...
Another memorial stone at this hospital in my hometown is from 3 years ago. Many in our family were gathered to await my nephew, Finnegan's, arrival. He finally came via c-section, and when my proud brother entered the waiting room to announce his name, my mom and the other grandma both laughed and said "Naaw!" thinking Jonny was joking. They hadn't heard such a long name: Finnegan Jon Bromenschenkel, on such a little person. But it turns out that Finn fills out his name just perfectly now =-)
Another memorial stone at this hospital reminds me of my mom's victory over cancer. 18 months ago she was hospitalized for complications related to her chemo treatment. My daughters were missing her so much. So we drove to the back parking lot of the hospital, and my mom managed to get out of bed. She wheeled her IV pole to the window, and danced a silly dance for us while we stood in the twilight, and danced a silly dance for her in the parking lot. She waved; she did the Charleston. We could see the outline of her skinny legs thru her hospital gown, and she wore a little hat to warm her bald head. When I loaded the girls into the minivan, they hollered and cried, "Grammy! We want Grammy back!" And my heart was breaking for them. But it turns out - we all got Grammy back. And now when people who I haven't seen in awhile ask me with concern in their voice "And how is your mom doing?" I have to pause and think what are they referring to. Oh yeah, that's right, she had cancer... she's back now. And we're so thankful.
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