CHRISTY'S MIRACLE

Remember Christy? My oldest daughter.  Best known to her friends as Christa.

We called this little five pound girl Christy when she was born.  Somehow Christa sounded a bit big for this tiny baby girl. To her mama, siblings, and grandparents, she will always be Christy.  To refresh your memories, this girl played a significant part in the eventual meeting of my guy.  


I got so caught up in the thrill and excitement of telling our story. . .the wedding and the honeymoon, that I left out a most significant detail.  About Christy.  About her miracle.

It was during our wedding rehearsal that my daughter noticed having shortness of breath.  It was significant enough that she made an appointment to be seen by her doctor a few days after our wedding.  She may have thought the shortness of breath was brought about from her pregnancy with her fourth baby.

 Odell and I were enjoying our honeymoon when we got a call from her.  She gave us the alarming report from the tests the doctor had ordered.  She had been diagnosed with Cardiomyopathy, a serious heart disease.  Her doctor was concerned that she may not be able to carry her baby to term. That she could die. Also her baby.  She found out a day later that she was carrying their baby girl.  The little sister they had dreamed about.  She would be the sister to three older brothers.  And, according to her doctor, she may be their 'miracle' baby.

After Odell and I hung up from the call from Christy, I was crying. He held me close. I knew he was really
concerned about her, too.  'Honey, I can't imagine my world without my Christy in it.' 

She was always so full of life. So vibrant. So happy. A great mommy. And my twenty-five year old little girl still.  I just wasn't going to believe that she wouldn't be okay.  She had to be.  There would be countless prayers said on her behalf.  In addition to ours.  I  knew we had to trust God to take care of her.  He loved her even more than any of us could  That had to be an awful lot.  And I reminded God that we all loved and needed her. And that she had a husband and children who needed her desperately.


Since I so obviously have told this part of our story a bit out of sequence, I may as well conclude it with
the miracle birth of a perfectly healthy and beautiful baby girl on September 1, 1999. . .Heidi Michelle Newberry. 


Never mind the dark prognosis of the doctors. It is quite apparent that God's prognosis is what counted.

It has been twelve years since we heard those dark, heavy words from my daughter regarding her heart.
Today, she is doing much better than at that time.  She may always be on medication.  But we thank God she is here with us all.  And her miracle baby is no longer a baby. . .twelve years going on sixteen!  And a most lovely granddaughter!  Pictured here with her Grandpa Dell about two years ago.

'Thank you, God, for this double miracle. . .
                Christy and Heidi.

TO KNOW HIM IS TO LOVE HIM

You've heard me say 'little things mean a lot.'  While that is so true, I must also confess that big things mean a lot, too.'  It was only a couple of months from the time we said those two most meaningful words, 'I do,' that we were thrown a huge curve.  More like sinking into a dark, deep valley. One that seemed to come out of nowhere. We were in it. And it wouldn't be going away anytime soon.  It would, in fact, affect our lives together for several years to come. I assure you that this valley was not of our own making or choosing.  That it was not about us personally. But it was one that would test our strengths.  Possibly test our faith at times. Mostly, it would show me the true character of this wonderful and honorable man who had vowed to stand by me. To love me. To protect me. To selflessly give of himself. Whatever the cost.

My purpose is not to actually share what this dark valley was.  There are some things in this life that we must face and go through together with God.  Only those closest to us would be affected, as well. My purpose is to allow my readers a more personal glimpse of this wonderful man. . .my husband, Odell.

I didn't think it was possible to love him more than I did already.  He held my heart completely. And yet through these dark waters, he was amazingly strong.  The love and respect I had for him grew and knew no limits.  I witnessed such a deep love resonating from this 'gentle giant.'  In a purely physical sense, he didn't have the stature of a giant. He stood tall and slender at six feet.. But if one could measure the heart and strength of character of this amazing man, he was indeed a giant among men.  And he loved me.  I felt blessed every day.  Just to be with him. To feel his warmth.  To rest in those strong arms and know it was okay to cry. Which I did.

Although I'm not at liberty to share this part of our story with you, I am in hopes that you will have an even better picture of the love of my life.  Not only did I gain a greater appreciation for him, we both knew that God had faithfully sustained us through it all.  It was through the darkest hours that we could see a light at the end of the tunnel.  God's light. For which we were so thankful.


And we were more deeply in love than before. If that were even possible. . .

            What a beautiful, beautiful love.                            

        

OUR EVENING WALK

Little things mean a lot.  They are bundled up little joys. Sweet memories.

Waking up slowly in the arms of the love of your life. That sleepy first morning kiss

over the wonderful coffee he brought you in bed.  Hearing the words you never

tire of, 'I love you.'  The evening walk to the mailbox.  What?  Did I really just

say that?  How did I get from a kiss, coffee, and sweet words, to a walk to the mailbox?  Well, yes. I did say that. If you will indulge me, I would be happy to share one of these walks with you. Trust me. It was a most

memorable walk.  (smile).

Our day had been a regular day.  Nothing particularly outstanding.  Just nice.  And it felt good to just relax awhile together. We had eaten supper and were enjoying awhile together outside.  Swinging. Holding hands. Enjoying iced tea.  Just being together.

My husband stood up and stretched. 'Honey, you ready to go check the mail?'  It was just one of those little things we did together.  Just a short stroll . . .through the gazebo and around a path leading to the mailboxes.  One box had our apartment number. Especially for Mr. and Mrs. Odell Edwards.  I loved the way it sounded.

I had my hand tucked into his right arm, and his left arm was
around my waist.  I always loved this part of our evening.
Because little things mean a lot to his girl.  One of those perfect moments. So peaceful.  I usually would sigh and tell this amazing
man, 'I love you so much, honey!'  He would grin and say in a soft
drawl, 'Yeah?'


The smooth walkway soon changed to a rather rocky path. There were  uneven, stone steps leading down the slightly steep decline.  We had
walked this path many evenings.  No problem.  Until this particular evening.

 Suddenly with no warning. . .we were falling!  Big time!  It happened so
fast. . .no way to stop ourselves.  The next thing I realized was pain.  My head hurt intensely.  I was thrown and ended up lying
in a position with my head on a rock. . .lower than my body.  My feet were in an inclined position on a stone step. I had totally flipped around from the direction we were heading. Not quite the way pictured here.

 Then I heard a groaning sound. Oh, wow! It was coming from me. Where was Odell?  I carefully turned my head to one side. I heard him calling out, 'Honey, honey!  Are you okay?' Then I saw my sweet husband crawling out from behind a bush. He was crawling toward me.

 And he sounded so worried. When he reached my side,
I was still groaning. From the pain in my head. That rock hadn't exactly been my soft place to fall. (ouch).  But what about him? 'Baby, are you okay?'  He assured me he was. I could tell he was more worried about me.

A little later I let him help me to my feet. Slowly. Painfully.  The pain in my head was subsiding just a little.  Maybe. We hobbled on to the mailbox just around the corner. I knew we must be quite a sight! Then suddenly we were laughing!  And we laughed all the way back to our apartment.  If it's true that laughter is the best medicine, we should both feel great for a long time to come.

Ah! How wonderful it felt to very carefully 'fall' into bed that night!  To 'gently' snuggle with my amazing
hubby. Very gently, I might add. Our bodies were reminding us of our earlier 'fall' that evening. And most likely we would be reminded for a few days to come.

But we would still laugh.  And we would wonder where all the nosy neighbors are when you need them most?  It was one of those times you feel relieved no one witnessed this ridiculous incident. And at the same time, you're imagining what a hilarious video might have been sent to America's Funniest Videos. Even nicer. . .
the $10,000 check. Because without a doubt it would be the winner!  Oh, well. . .unfortunately, there would most likely be other future opportunities!

I turned out the light and leaned in to kiss my guy. The one I was so in love with.

'Goodnight, honey, I love you!' 


'Yeah? Well, I love you, too! But I love you more. . .'


I smiled.  This would become one of our affectionate arguments. But not tonight.  I was too tired. . .

SIXTEEN MONTHS

 Today is September 1, 2011.  It is sixteen months since I had to say goodbye to my dearest husband.  Odell.

Actually, we didn't get even a moment to say goodbye.  And because of the cruel and unfair way it happened. That will be
later.  Someday I will share these sad and tragic details.  Until then, there will be some winding trails.  Some valleys. Some mountain peaks.  Faith. And so much love.

Losing the love of my life on May 1, 2010, has been the darkest waters God has allowed me
to go through in this life.
There are days it hurts just to breathe.  It's in these darkest of hours, my heart has cried out to God for His comfort.  I ask Him nearly every night to bring Odell to me in my dreams.

 Because I miss his face.  I miss that beautiful smile. I miss his laugh.  And those gorgeous blue eyes. And sometimes God grants my request.  Not every night.  Not nearly as often as my heart desires.  But when He does this for me, the dreams are so clear.

It was one of those lonely nights when I finally cried myself to sleep.  And there he was.  It felt as though I was standing back. Watching from a distance. We were sitting together in church. In our usual pew. His arm around my shoulders. And happy.

  Then the scene changed.  Still in church.  Now my husband was
sitting in a different pew and he was alone.  I was still looking on. Watching intently. I saw his hand go
up to his shirt pocket.  It was a button down pocket.  He opened it and reached inside.  It was what he
did frequently during a service.  Reached in his pocket to retrieve a couple of soft peppermints for us. When he opened the pocket, I didn't see the mints.  I saw these words in a semi-circle on the inside of the flap.
Praying for Barb. . .and the dream was over.

I awakened and I was crying.  Only this time I was thanking God for such a wonderful revelation.
He had looked down and felt my deepest distress. My tears had touched His heart. I think He must have cried with me.

And then I believe he asked my sweet Odell to pray for me.


Sharing this dream with you, my readers, just feels right.  What would I do if I
didn't have God to turn to during the lonely and long night hours.  In that big empty bed.  Where only sixteen months ago, we fell asleep holding one another.
 Or just holdimg hands. Never wanting to let go.

One night just before falling asleep, I asked him, 'Baby, can you imagine us ever not being together?'
There was the slightest hesitation before he responded huskily.  With tears in his voice. 'Not hardly, honey.'



I remember his words. His tone. His gentleness. His touch. And sometimes I remember and smile.


Sometimes I cry. But knowing we will be together again one day reminds me to be happy.