life lessons

my kids have been teasing me about my wrinkles lately. the more i look in the mirror, i adore those wrinkles. i recognize that they were earned, most likely, in bulk from life situations that taught me the greatest lessons. i know for a fact that the many wrinkles around my eyes are from both laughing and crying…the kind that takes the breath out of you for a minute and takes twice as long to recover. the kind of laugh that leaves your stomach muscles sore.

God brought me on a unique path in my career, one i am so grateful for. i have had the opportunity to walk the end of life journey with many many beautiful people and their families. most were more than patients to me, they were friends and some even seemed like family. i made a decision early in parenting that i would expose my kids to what i really do at work, age appropriate of course, they have heard me speak of sickness and healing and death. my kids have heard me pray for these people by name. my kids have prayed for these people. they have drawn pictures for them and asked me how my patients are doing the minute they jump in the car after school.

one precious woman i journeyed sickness with was so kind. she was personable and quickly treated me as more than her nurse. we were friends. she knew the names of my kids. when i had dark circles under my eyes, she diverted the conversation from her health to listen to me talk/laugh/cry about my kid induced sleepless night! she would joke with me and vent about her parenting struggles when she raised her kids. oh my goodness, we laughed so so much. every visit, we laughed, about everything. we cried too. she was vulnerable with me, we talked about her illness and we talked about death. as i left each visit, she always cheerily said, “bring those babies with you next time!” i shrugged it off for the longest time because i was certain that that sort of thing was not professional. one day, i nonchalantly asked my boss, the CEO of the hospice i worked for, if i could bring my children to visit with this patient, off the clock. he enthusiastically responded, “yes! i love that idea, that would be so therapeutic.” so we visited. she fed my kids candy and my kids made themselves at home immediately! my daughter painted her fingernails and my son told jokes. it was precious. they sat next to her on the couch and at that moment she became “mimi” to them. we visited a few times.

mimi later had to move to a nursing home and despite those circumstances, her first words to me when i visited were my children’s names. with her permission, i brought the kiddos to see her there. my son loved the hospital bed and operating the controls and of course her secret candy drawer. my daughter would sit on the bed snuggled up next to mimi and they would talk about school and, just life. they laughed too, just like we did. as much as i wanted to protect my kids from seeing the hard things in life, i knew that this was important…for them and for mimi. and to my surprise, they usually thanked me for taking them to see mimi instead of asking seemingly difficult questions about illness and nursing homes and other hard stuff…

i learned last week from her family that mimi was declining. i went to visit, alone. i visited once more in the week and that visit was not interactive. i held her hand, kissed her forehead and told her how much we loved her. she is one of those gems that God places in your life for the good. mimi made me a better person. she made me a better mom. she is responsible for so many of these wrinkles and i wouldn’t go back and change the decision i made to allow her into my heart…and her into my kids’ hearts.

i sat down with my kids and shared with them that mimi died. we talked about how she was not scared or alone. that she simply took a final breath and that she is with Jesus now. i chose to celebrate this occasion and we released balloons and ate candy and talked about mimi. she’ll know those balloons are from my kids when she receives them in heaven because she will see their tiny chocolate fingerprints on them…the same chocolate fingerprints she held in her hands on earth.