I received this from a friend who always sends a lot of emails...you know the type! Usually most emails end up in the deleted file, but I took a peak at this one and I'm glad that I did! Pretty neat - take a peak.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Grass
As you know, I have been a "paper-girl/woman" for quite a few years. What started out as some outdoor walking (and getting paid for it) has turned out to meeting neighbours that I normally wouldn't meet and growing relationships. It's been good, but also difficult, because those who I usually meet are people who have no one else or those who have family but come from very broken relationships. One such lady is Joanne.
I met Joanne quite a few years ago - I'd say at least 8 years. She was an elderly woman at the time (in her 80s) but she was so active. She'd be outside cutting the grass (seriously!) and even trimming her hedges. While her face looked like she was in her 80s, her body and movement did not. She kept active and loved being outdoors. We'd often chat.
I met Joanne quite a few years ago - I'd say at least 8 years. She was an elderly woman at the time (in her 80s) but she was so active. She'd be outside cutting the grass (seriously!) and even trimming her hedges. While her face looked like she was in her 80s, her body and movement did not. She kept active and loved being outdoors. We'd often chat.
Sometimes we'd chat about God. She was very angry at God. She had no use for God. But I'd still tell her that I was praying for her (and I was) and I showed her the hands of God through my life. She never shied away from me when I mentioned God - but a wall definitely came up.
I learned that her husband passed away almost exactly when my dad did, in 1990. He died of cancer. Joanne and her husband had one child - a son - and that son passed away a few years later. He lived in Europe and his wife (her daughter-in-law) and children stayed in Europe. They had contact over the years and sometimes they'd come to visit Joanne. But Joanne tired of taking them to the tourist attractions (or so she said) so they stopped coming. She said she encouraged them to spend their money on the places that they'd like to visit, rather than visiting her. I wonder if she really meant that.
While Joanne was a nice woman, she was also bitter in many ways and knew exactly how things were. Or how she thought they were. A lot of the people that I meet are like this.
Anyway, a few years ago Joanne told me that her daughter-in-law had cancer. It wasn't long before she told me that her daughter-in-law died. She was quite sad. The only family left were her grandchildren.
A little more than a year ago, Joanne took me aside to tell me that she had been diagnosed with cancer. It was a rare form of a "woman's cancer" and she had a hysterectomy (at almost age 89). I still remember her fear, asking me if I could Google her cancer and find her some information. She'd been given various websites to check out but did not have access to the internet. I sat with her and went through her sheets from the doctor, trying to calm her down. It must be tough to live alone and have no one to support you at such times.
I learned that her husband passed away almost exactly when my dad did, in 1990. He died of cancer. Joanne and her husband had one child - a son - and that son passed away a few years later. He lived in Europe and his wife (her daughter-in-law) and children stayed in Europe. They had contact over the years and sometimes they'd come to visit Joanne. But Joanne tired of taking them to the tourist attractions (or so she said) so they stopped coming. She said she encouraged them to spend their money on the places that they'd like to visit, rather than visiting her. I wonder if she really meant that.
While Joanne was a nice woman, she was also bitter in many ways and knew exactly how things were. Or how she thought they were. A lot of the people that I meet are like this.
Anyway, a few years ago Joanne told me that her daughter-in-law had cancer. It wasn't long before she told me that her daughter-in-law died. She was quite sad. The only family left were her grandchildren.
A little more than a year ago, Joanne took me aside to tell me that she had been diagnosed with cancer. It was a rare form of a "woman's cancer" and she had a hysterectomy (at almost age 89). I still remember her fear, asking me if I could Google her cancer and find her some information. She'd been given various websites to check out but did not have access to the internet. I sat with her and went through her sheets from the doctor, trying to calm her down. It must be tough to live alone and have no one to support you at such times.
Joanne was healthy enough to go through the surgery so she did. Everything went well and although it took quite a bit out of her, Joanne kept at it. She had someone cut her grass for her (which drove her crazy) but she got back at the hedges. She didn't open her pool last season, because she knew she wouldn't be able to keep up with it. She missed her swims.
I rarely saw someone visiting Joanne. But I was happy to see that her closest neighbours were able to take her to her radiation appointments (she'd asked me but I wasn't able to) and a couple neighbours were taking turns cutting her grass. It was encouraging to see neighbours supporting one another in an old-fashioned (not seen a whole lot today) way.
A couple of months ago Joanne again took me aside. Her cancer had come back. She was angry. I tried to encourage her. But she told me that fear had taken over. Fear of cancer (she'd watched her husband and son die of it), fear of dying alone, fear of dying. I tried to console her. I tried to support her.
I saw her about 6 weeks ago and she looked good. I thought she must be doing well, despite her sadness.
And then a couple of weeks ago a "for sale" sign went up at Joanne's house. I could see that someone was still around because I saw her tire tracks in the snow (coming out of her garage) as well as her garbage/composting/recycling being put out and put away again. So I knew that she was still around. On December 17 Joanne had her 90th birthday. I didn't see her but I left her a card and note. I never heard from her again.
Last week I saw that the house was "sold" -- and a few trucks were in her driveway. A dumpster has now joined the trucks. I see Joanne's "life" in the dumpster. I went inside Joanne's house a couple of times and it was like a timewarp. The 1950s all the way. Panelling everywhere, chrome everywhere, various shades of yellow and orange everywhere. It even had a musty smell. Joanne said it wasn't worth it to update anything. It would be a waste of her money.
So I haven't seen Joanne, and since she doesn't have any family here, I don't know if she's okay. I haven't seen a death announcement but I don't know who would put one in for her anyway. (I hope to talk to one of her neighbours soon.) I'm hoping that she's in a senior's home now, getting some tender-loving-care. I miss seeing her - and seeing her house be demolished has been quite an analogy for me. Of how fleeting this life is. It is here and it is gone.
I rarely saw someone visiting Joanne. But I was happy to see that her closest neighbours were able to take her to her radiation appointments (she'd asked me but I wasn't able to) and a couple neighbours were taking turns cutting her grass. It was encouraging to see neighbours supporting one another in an old-fashioned (not seen a whole lot today) way.
A couple of months ago Joanne again took me aside. Her cancer had come back. She was angry. I tried to encourage her. But she told me that fear had taken over. Fear of cancer (she'd watched her husband and son die of it), fear of dying alone, fear of dying. I tried to console her. I tried to support her.
I saw her about 6 weeks ago and she looked good. I thought she must be doing well, despite her sadness.
And then a couple of weeks ago a "for sale" sign went up at Joanne's house. I could see that someone was still around because I saw her tire tracks in the snow (coming out of her garage) as well as her garbage/composting/recycling being put out and put away again. So I knew that she was still around. On December 17 Joanne had her 90th birthday. I didn't see her but I left her a card and note. I never heard from her again.
Last week I saw that the house was "sold" -- and a few trucks were in her driveway. A dumpster has now joined the trucks. I see Joanne's "life" in the dumpster. I went inside Joanne's house a couple of times and it was like a timewarp. The 1950s all the way. Panelling everywhere, chrome everywhere, various shades of yellow and orange everywhere. It even had a musty smell. Joanne said it wasn't worth it to update anything. It would be a waste of her money.
So I haven't seen Joanne, and since she doesn't have any family here, I don't know if she's okay. I haven't seen a death announcement but I don't know who would put one in for her anyway. (I hope to talk to one of her neighbours soon.) I'm hoping that she's in a senior's home now, getting some tender-loving-care. I miss seeing her - and seeing her house be demolished has been quite an analogy for me. Of how fleeting this life is. It is here and it is gone.
I hope most of all that Joanne has a loving person beside her, showing her of her need of a Saviour.
You sweep people away like dreams that disappear or like grass that springs up
in the morning. In the morning it blooms and flourishes, but by evening it
is
dry and withered. ...
Seventy years are given to us! Some may even
reach
eighty. But even the best of these years are filled with pain and
trouble; soon
they disappear, and we are gone.
Teach us to realize
the brevity of
life, so that we may grow in wisdom.
Psalm 90:5,6,10,12
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