Friday, April 27, 2018

Isolation & Grief: Choosing to Trust God

Your mind can be your worst enemy, if you let it. I'm big on telling other people, "Stop with the what ifs," and then days later, mutter out, "But what if this doesn't work out?" I realized that it's coming from a place of fear and anxiety, and usually, if I'm in a good mindset, I can push away from that. If I am not spiritually in tune, then everything goes haywire. Before my mom passed away, my mind used to constantly ask, "What if she dies from this cancer? What if she doesn't make it?" I couldn't imagine my life without her -- my best friend, the only person I told my deepest soul wounds to. We had a connection like no other, and I doubt I will ever find that kind of connection ever again. And that's OK. See, I believe that we're in a spiritual warfare. Without constant communication and prayer time with God, we sort of lose that hedge of protection that only God can provide, even if it means a sense of safety. At times, I'm okay with living in this large house alone -- and I mean alone in the sense that I am here for about 10 hours alone. Most of it is working from home, and with that, came the uneasiness of isolation. I used to be such a social butterfly years ago. Not so much anymore. What I realized is -- I consciously chose this. No one forced me to isolate myself, nor did they say work from home. It was all based on my decisions in life. These days, I'd rather spurts of socializing in moderation. Although my personality is still bubbly and seemingly outgoing, I would definitely consider myself an introvert of sorts.

There's a social stigma on isolation. But nobody ever looks into the conscious choice of being isolated. They only say that it's very unhealthy not to have constant interaction with other people. But what isolation has done for me has been much different. I've gotten to study the Bible more, I also became much closer with God, realizing my true self and turn off all electronics and social media, if I want to. Even though my work calls for being online for a certain amount of time, I can 'go off the grid' for as long as I'd like to. They say that if you don't like your own company, then who do you think will? There's a lot to be said for that. During my days, I sometimes sit outside with a cup of coffee before I start working. I look over at the beautiful mountains, as the turkey hawks sore above me. I go into my prayer room and meditate on God's Word, pray and write down any messages I get from it all. My prayer and meditation time usually lasts about 2 entire hours, sometimes longer if my day isn't filled with deadlines or errands. Choosing to live a life of partial isolation is quite healthy if you DECIDE to do it for either spirituality, creativity or to calm your mind from the busyness of the world. RESISTANCE to it, is what makes it unhealthy. Resisting any circumstance in life creates suffering.

I used to resist it. In fact, when Mom died, I had my partner and her sister here for a couple of months. Madelene had taken FMLA (Family Leave of Absence) from her job and we just grieved together, but most of all, it was more healing than anything. Once Madelene had to go back to work, I was sort of lost. I felt almost abandoned on my own accord.  I didn't know what to do. I wasn't planning on returning to my work yet. I took a long time off. My mind was just blank -- as if it shut down of all creativity. However, my mind did work overtime with worry. "What if I'm all alone here and I die and nobody finds out till hours later? What if my alone time makes me crazy? What if my alone time gives me worsened depression? What if, what if, what if?" It drove me crazy. And I admit, sometimes at the end of the week, I start to get a little antsy. (Side note: when typing out "antsy" it corrected it to "nasty" and I started laughing uncontrollably. I DO get nasty if I get antsy! Ha!) So where was I? ... I then started to get panic attacks at home because I was resisting being alone. Mom wasn't here. I had no one to care for. I had no one to talk to. My purpose felt deleted in a sense. I had no one to eat dinner with. Even though our living quarters were quite a distance apart, I felt safer with her here, even though she was unable to save me from some kind of bear attack or burglary. As I worked from home, the illusion of a "safety net" brought my mind spiraling into a different place. And after her passing, the house became different. I still feel her around me, but if I'm alone in the living room where we used to hang out, I'll feel that sense of loneliness and isolation, which ultimately turns into resistance. And then I suffer. If other people are with me, like family -- that living space becomes alive again. My thoughts don't wander off into a dark corner.

My Discovery.
Ever since Mom's passing, and especially when Madelene had to go back to her long hours at work, I found peace with God. I found a place where it drew me closer to God, without interference, without worrying. I recently learned, that my resistance to my situation was creating a living hell for me. THAT in itself is unhealthy. But choosing to be alone -- choosing to work from home regardless of the lack of interaction with other people in person has given me a sense of freedom. Not only did I learn more about the Bible, even memorizing more scriptures, but it has enabled me to start my second book and to concentrate more, without the cluster mob of 'what ifs' in my mind.  I found myself changing in various ways. My TV is never on during the day. If I do have some entertainment, it's classical or praise and worship music. My entertainment are Christian sermons to encourage and uplift me while I'm working around the house. At night, I may watch a Netflix movie, but that's about it. For the most part, I prefer reading actual books -- no online ebooks ever. In fact, my Bibles will always be in paper. I will never rely on electronic Bibles or even online scriptures for that matter.  I discovered that this bitter trial in my life, losing both my parents, has made me stronger in many ways. It's made me realize that I CAN make it and that my worst fear of losing both my parents has come into fruition. I made it. I'm here. I honestly thought I would die, but I didn't. I also realized that in my weakness, God is strong. He gives me the strength to get through what I may deem impossible.

"What is impossible from the human perspective is possible with God. --Luke 18:27"

Overall Thoughts
Whatever you cannot change -- try changing your mind about it -- try looking at your situation differently. I love the serenity prayer: "Lord grant me the serenity to ACCEPT the things I cannot change, COURAGE to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time; enjoying one moment at a time; accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will; that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him forever in the next. Amen."  Remember, suffering's root cause is the resistance of what is -- it's the resistance to your circumstances. I'm still learning this myself as I travel on this strange path -- a path without my beautiful parents, a path that's pretty much unpredictable, which is why I'm choosing to trust God.

For more of Deb's articles, please visit: or join her on Facebook and Twitter. Check out her cooking blog for some of her famous recipes! Feel free to watch Deb's live broadcasts over on Periscope as well! 

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

To Handle the Loss of a Mother

Losing Mom was the worst fear of my life. Nobody will truly understand what you're going through, even if they've been through it many years ago, they're just at a different level of their loss and grief. Losing a mother is probably second to losing a child, as "they say." I'm not sure who "they" are, but I've heard of that and somehow believe it. But what if you don't have children, like myself? What if your child turned out to be your mother? "They" also say that as we grow older, we change roles with our parents. Our parents become our children, as we start to parent and care for our parents. It's an interesting turn of events, a sad, yet loving one. We return the love and care that we received all of our lives. Many have never experienced a loving relationship with their own parents, so I am sorry if this hits you right in the heart. I'm mainly speaking about my experiences right now, so that others may relate in some way. The day we decided to move back home to care for my father who was diagnosed with bladder cancer, we were also there for my mother who needed help caring for him. Witnessing Dad suffering from the excruciating pain, as well as seeing Mom watch him slowly die, it left a scar on my heart forever. I remember the day we were waiting for hospice to pick him up for his final resting quarters. My entire family surrounded Dad as he was unable to muster up any words at this time. He had already stopped eating and couldn't get much fluid down as well. I remember my mother holding his lifeless hand, as she laid beside him, sobbing, yet trying to keep it together for her daughters. I got the opportunity to say my goodbyes to him, as well as making him laugh through his semi-consciousness. We always joked around. Bittersweet chuckles made its way out of his mouth. It would be the last time I would ever see him smile again.

My Biggest Fear Came True
Mom knew she was dying, but chose to not tell me. Even when Madelene and I took her on vacation, one month before she died, she knew this would be our last getaway together. We always took Mom whenever she was able to go. She had the best Mother's Day she ever had overlooking the ocean and eating her favorite food with her family. She loved the ocean, especially when storms came rolling in. She'd rather a stormy day at the ocean than a sunny one. I loved her for that. A month later, I remember getting a call from her asking me to come down because she had called an ambulance. Mom never calls an ambulance. She grabbed me and hugged me so tight. I said, "Ma, you're gonna be alright -- you just need a tune up!" But I saw it in her eyes, she wasn't going to come back home. She hugged me tighter and then said, "I love you, Debbie. I'm so worried about you." I told her I loved her too, and yes -- I was worried about me too. We both laughed and I went into her bedroom to get her clothes together. Strange, because she made her bed so perfectly. Even the remote controls for her TV were placed strategically, almost OCD-ish diagonally hotel-style. As she stood overlooking her beautiful made bed, she was patting down the top layer blanket, making sure it was perfectly even. I knew what she was thinking... "This is the last time I'm going to see my bed again."

As I tried to casually shuffle her nightgowns and underwear into her bag, I kept trying to convince myself this was just one of those routine visits. Eh, she'll probably be in there maybe 2-3 days to get a tune up and she'll be back home. But God had different plans. As I saw the EMTs carry her out on the gurney that sat high up, so they could roll her into the ambulance easily, the way she was laying -- the way she was closing her eyes -- it was almost as if she was accepting her destination...her true destination. I looked over at Madelene and said, "Did you see how she was lying on the gurney?"


The hospital visits were fine. She was joking around with the nurses, asking me to take her home and just being the normal mama we all knew and loved. She was eating a lot too. For some reason, she seemed to really love their hospital grub. As it got later, I told her to call me tomorrow and let me know when the nurses would discharge her.  Later on that evening, Mom called me up.

"Deb? Whadja' have for dinner?" That was the number one question even before "how are you." She kept saying, "Oh, I can't wait to come home and we can sit outside and BBQ again!" I had been taking her outside more so she could get some sunlight. It was difficult for her to sit in the chairs due to her pain, but she managed to do it once her pain meds kicked in. I told her I'd be up tomorrow morning to pick her up. She gave me a list of things to bring of course. Then she said, "Okay, mommy," (she always calls her daughters "mommy") and then said, "Love you, love you!"

"Love you love you too, ma!"

That was our thing.

The next morning, I made some coffee and waited an hour to call her. I didn't want to call too early, because I knew the nurses would take longer than expected with the discharge papers. So at 10am, I called Mom. It sounded like someone had picked up the phone and handed it to my mother. I heard a mumble or something...

"Ma?" I said, not knowing what was happening.
"Oh Deb! Ohhhhhhhhhhh! IT'S TERRIBLE!!!!!!!!" She cried out.
"What happened? What's wrong?"

I never heard my mother in this type of distress ---ever.

"I'm coming up now!"

Then I got a phone call from my friend as I was having a panic attack. She was trying to calm me down but there wasn't anything I could do to help. I started getting chest pain, and had to hang up. I was escorted to the hospital in an ambulance to check out my own health. The ER was super crowded, so they slid me on the side of the nurses's station, among the other crammed in patients waiting to be helped. They took blood tests and EKGs and then I was sitting there by myself not knowing what was going on. About 30 minutes into my stay, my sister Cathy calls me on my cell phone.

"How's mom doing? Is she okay? What happened?"

And then the words I cannot get out of my head were spoken...

"Deb? She's not coming home."

"Wait -- is she staying longer, or are you talking about hospice?"

"No, Deb. She's not supposed to make it through the night."

The cry that came out of my mouth wasn't even a cry. It was one of those 'mouth-opened-wide-silent-cries' that when it was over, the loudest soul-crushing type of wailing came out. It felt like my soul slipped out of my body and was reaching for the skies. Every scream that came out, somehow made me blackout a little. Then it went into a hyperventilation type of crying that made my cries sound like a home burglary alarm. I remember a few things when this happened. I noticed an older woman, maybe in her late 50's lying in a room on her bed pointing at me with such distress on her face -- as if she was telling someone to check on me. I saw a patient being rolled in with the look of extreme empathy on his face -- even though he had no clue what was happening to me. Then I saw the nurses all gather around my bed near their station, one asking if I wanted a percocet or maybe some fentanyl for the pain. Some of my cries were going back into the 'tears flowing-wide opened mouth cries' again. When I finally caught my breath, I told them, "M-m-m-my m-m-mother is dying upstairrrrrrrrrrsss!" Sure enough, all tests that were taken came back right away as negative. Clean bill of health. When Madelene came to get me, they unhooked me from the monitors and said, "Go to her! God bless you!"

As we walked through the corridors, tears still streaming down my face, I saw people staring at me, doing double takes and even some of them whispering. Even the elevator ride upstairs was awkward. I had to be silent, sniffling with uncontrollable tears. When we got to her room, the door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open slowly, and saw my sisters and their other halves all sitting around my mother who was now unconscious. She was wearing a yellow hospital gown. Her face looked as though she may have had a stroke. They found out she kept her pain a secret by taking more pain meds than prescribed. When they gave her the prescribed amount, that's when her pain reared its ugly head. She also had a pulmonary embolism in her lungs. There was nothing to save her at all, except the machine that was pumping out morphine just to give her a painless passing. We all sat around her, and at this point, I felt numb. The doctor said maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow or the next day...

Four days later, she was still alive. Her morphine dosage went up significantly. I know some believe it's a beautiful thing to see a loved one pass over, but for me, I personally could not witness this for myself. I couldn't watch my favorite person in the world leave me. I accept it, but I had to say my goodbyes while she was still in her little shell of a body. It was only Madelene and my sister Dawn there at this time. I held Mom's hand, without her squeezing my hand back as she always did. I remembered our drives to restaurants, to fun events, family parties, doctor's visits -- anywhere we went, with her holding my hand as we drove. It was cute. She would always grab my hand when we drove. Now, I was grabbing her hand, the same hand that used to reach for me while driving. I kissed her forehead and said, "Ma, it's okay to let go.... I'm going to be okay." She was so worried about me. Anytime she would mutter, "When I'm gone..." -- and she would say this even before the cancer struck, I would freak out! I would finish her sentence: "When you're gone, so am I!" And I meant it. Without her, I couldn't live. But I made a promise to her that it was okay to go, and if she did, I would be okay. It was the hardest promise I ever had to keep.

That very night, or should I say morning, around 2am, she passed away peacefully. Madelene and her sister cried with me, holding hands and praying for her peaceful transition. We stayed up, had some tea together, lit some candles and just accepted what is...what was...and what's to come. After crying for hours, I fell asleep for a few hours and woke up to pouring rain. My mother and I loved when there was a good long thunderstorm. As the morning progressed into the afternoon, still raining like crazy, we sat outside under the canopy to stay dry. When the sun made its way out, the most beautiful rainbow appeared. It must've stayed for almost an hour or so. I even put it up on Periscope so people could view it live, and of course, many of my friends came on to send their condolences. There were doves everywhere too. It was the most tragic, beautiful day I have ever experienced. It felt like heaven had a welcoming party as Mom made her way into her new home. She climbed up that beautiful rainbow to meet Jesus. It was her way of telling me she was okay. That was the beginning of my faith growing into something even larger than expected. I knew God took her. I knew that without a doubt, God was taking care of me too.

When I was around 10 years old, I had this terrible nightmare. I dreamt of my mother's funeral. I saw all of our family friends gather around her large mahogany casket, wrapped up with the most beautiful flowers. Her service was a bit different from my dream, but till this day, that dream is still so vivid. It was vivid because it was the most awful nightmare I ever had. When I woke up, I ran out of my room to find my mother. And thank God she was there! She was in the kitchen making coffee. "Ugh, just a nightmare, thank God!" And now, I just wish I could wake up and run downstairs to see my mom making coffee after this awful nightmare of watching her suffer from cancer and dying from it. Why can't that happen? I wish God could just wake me up and say, "Ah, just a dream my child. Carry on as usual." But this is life, and we are meant to see our loved ones die. It's completely normal, although we dare to entertain the thought of them leaving us. This IS life. This IS death. This IS how it all works out. It IS what it IS and as much as I hate that saying, it sadly applies.

The truth is, if there's anything I've learned throughout this entire ordeal of losing my very best friend, it's that GOD is REAL. Right now as I'm typing this -- a cardinal just landed right on my balcony, staring inside looking at me. You can't make this stuff up. I never get birds landing on my balcony -- not ever since my chihuahua took charge of the deck. My sister asked me, "How come I don't get signs like you do?" I can't really answer that. I can only make a guess that maybe you have to be completely opened up enough, without the inner static, without the anger toward God about Him taking away his favorite angel. She's stated this to me on many occasions, even flirting with the idea of not believing in God altogether because of her loss. But God knows her heart --- He knows that she is just angry at Him. He still sees her faith, even if it's as small as a mustard seed. Many nonbelievers tell me that all of my "signs" are all but coincidences. Believe what you want to believe, but these occurrences give me peace. It lets me know that God hears my prayers, and that He's here with me right now.

I know I have written about my signs before, but I'm going to list them all out right now, in case you're a new reader of this blog. This is why my faith strengthened.

Special Signs & 'Hellos' From Mom

My mother and I had a love for owls. We collected them, and have owl statues and other things resembling owls all over the house. She gave me my first owl at the age of 8 and said it was good luck. A month before she died, she said, "What do you want me to come back as if I die?" I hated the thought of that, but I said an owl. And the same went for me if I should die first... The night before she passed away, an owl came right near my window at 4:17 am -- 4/17 is my mom's birthday. He "hoo'd" so loudly, it woke me up and the first thing I saw was my clock reminding me of my mother. That was how I knew she was going to pass away. It was our messenger. It was her telling me goodbye. Now, I see owls everywhere!

The day of her passing, a thunderstorm and a rainbow were there to comfort me in my time of grief.

The day I went up to the hospital to say my goodbyes, this song played. Madelene and I both cried, knowing it was my Mom sending me this song.

One night I had bad insomnia, so I was up at 3am reading an article online. Out of the blue, I heard my mom's voice call out, "Deb--bie?" Almost in a sing-song kind of way. She sounded incredibly happy and excited to have gotten through the veil, but I got a little scared and ran into my bedroom to just sleep it off.

I found two post-its on her nightstand. She wrote one that seemed so old, it looked as if it was written in the early 80's and one by me from 2003, when I worked at my old company. It was the same exact scripture. "Oh that you would bless me indeed, and enlarge my territory, and that your hand might be with me, and that you would keep me from evil, that it may not grieve me!" -- 1 Chronicles 4:10
Why would we write this on two separate occasions?

One winter evening, as Madelene and I were preparing dinner, we decided to make martinis. We hadn't had them in quite some time. My mother loved martinis. So after I poured mine, I lifted it up and said, "Cheers, Mom!" And all of a sudden, a little piece of ice slid down my window. It was heart-shaped. Of course you can say it was a coincidence that it "seemed" to have looked like a heart, or you can be open to the many signs that our loved ones share with us. Even if it gives us some sort of peace here on earth, why would anyone try to take that away from anyone? During that evening, every song that played for my mother's memorial came on. It didn't make me sad, it made me feel loved -- it made me feel okay with everything. I think it's sad when somebody has a sign right in front of their face and they choose not to acknowledge it, or they chuck it up to just a silly coincidence, and maybe even chuckle how crazy it would seem if they did think it would be from a deceased loved one. I'm not saying to 'talk to the dead,' but rather, be aware of their "hellos."

This may sound crazy, but I can hear her sometimes. It's not in the audible sense of hearing -- more like an impression, but nonetheless, her calm little voice emenating within my own mind. I was prepping for a big "1st birthday in heaven" party with my sisters. Instead of us all being alone and said on mom's first birthday without her, I invited all of my sisters over to enjoy mom's favorite food. So as I was prepping the table area, I heard Mom's voice. "Oh get rid of those placemats -- they're too big!" I laughed and just blew it off. But it came in even louder. "Put my tablecloth on there, it'll look nicer." I entertained her voice and said, "I don't have a tablecloth, Ma." And as vivid and clear as day, I heard her say, "Go into my bedroom and look to the left. It's in new packaging!" And wouldn't you know, there it was, in brand new packaging that has never been opened before. It looked beautiful. I'm not a big fan of table clothes -- maybe a runner -- but table cloths were a thing old Italians believed in. But this looked really nice, I have to say. (Thanks, Ma!)

During vacation last October, Madelene was fumbling around looking for the coffee carafe. She was getting frustrated and after 45 minutes, she ran back upstairs of the beach house and said, "We can't make coffee, 'Deb." She sounded defeated. Whenever Mom came with us on vacation, she was always in charge of the coffee since she got up before any of us. I walked downstairs and said, "OK Ma, do your magic," half believing it would work and half not. As I'm on the other side of this large kitchen, I hear, "Oh c'mon! It's right in the dish washer all set and ready to go!" And voila -- there it was, in a matter of 3 minutes.

One night, while Mom was still alive, I had a dream that we were driving on this road in an old vintage convertible through fields and fields of sunflowers. I looked over and Mom looked to be around 40 or so, smiling and so happy. I said, "Ma! You're driving! You look great!" She was so incredibly happy. We ran through the sunflower field, weightless and carefree. I cupped a bumblebee in my hand and said, "Look, I'm not scared of it!" (I have a fear of bees.) And she said, "They won't sting you and there is no pain here." We reached an area where there was an opening up near a beautiful tree. My dad was there along with all of my other relatives, enjoying a little bonfire, sitting on lawn chairs enjoying a beverage of some sort. Dad said that the sun keeps going back and forth, so it's never truly night time. When I woke up, Mom had a similar dream (this always happened with us.) So she wanted me to plant sunflowers all along the property, but a week later, she passed away. Now I see sunflowers wherever I go, and it's a reminder that she's in a much better place. This summer, I plan on covering the outer yard with sunflowers as she requested. Also, the hospital gown she died in was yellow with little yellow sunflowers on it.

Isolation & Grief
No matter if your loved one passed from a sudden death or a long struggle with some kind of illness, you're never truly prepared to say goodbye. I don't even believe my mom believed she was dying, even if her oncologist gave her only 3 more months to live. She had such hope and strength. I truly thought she'd make it. Now all I can do is sit and hope that I'll make it through these unbearable waves of grief. Some people like to talk amongst themselves, worrying over my periods of isolation and depressive episodes, but is it really that strange that I go through these things? Even while caring for Mom at home, I would rarely go out because I didn't want to leave her all by herself. Even though she was a very capable woman, my outings were limited, only by a few treks to the grocery store or maybe even a quick dinner out with my other half. I always felt guilty for going out. Whether I was at a neighbor's house or down the road at our favorite restaurant that's literally 2 minutes away, I always got a call from my sister asking, "Where are you?" I was the one responsible for making sure Mom ate. I cooked meals all the time, made her breakfast when she was up for it and even took her out to the park on some days so she could get some sunlight. There were days we went shopping at the local market together when she felt good, and some days driven to the doctor. My sister took care of the doctor visits, but each of them had the ability to go home and unwind with a glass of wine. They had their own lives to deal with. Every night, I ate dinner with Mom, watching her face literally sink into her plate. Sometimes, I would have to carry her away from the table, placing her gently on the sofa, until her pain meds kicked in. Soon enough, I pulled away from my friends. I stopped inviting my friends over for dinner, no more parties around the fire pit until midnight, no more guitar sessions with other musician friends. It was okay though. Mom's comfort was more important than my leisure activities. And hey, trust me -- I still tipped the wine bottle! And on good days, when Mom was feeling okay, she would have a glass of wine with me and we would talk for hours. Bittersweet moments that I will never forget.

The isolation though... It surely made a path to where I am right now. Between the weight gain, isolation, the loneliness during the day -- my work has suffered greatly because of it. My social life has suffered as you can imagine. It's almost as if I'm living in a new area trying to make friends all over again. I feel so estranged -- so awkward and misplaced. My grief is a bit different than the typical person who didn't live with their mother kind of grief. When you live with someone, whether a spouse or a relative of some kind, their mere absence reminds you every single moment of your life that they're gone. They're no longer here. It'll haunt you for months to come. I can't call Mom asking her if she wants some eggs and bacon. There's no more breaks from work to watch Millionaire or Grey's Anatomy with her while her meds kick in. Many times, I would bring my little dog Lola who she loved to pieces, and we would all lay in the bed together watching movies. Mom and Lola would play fight on the bed, Lola knowing to be gentle. Sometimes, I'd see her and Lola sleeping together.

Sometimes, I'll find Lola waiting at "Nana's" door, hoping she'll open it up and play with her again. I can't tell you what it feels like to go through this, but I can say that during the entire course of my life, I knew that if my mom were to ever die, I would surely die too. Some parts of me actually did die. I'm praying that God heals me even more so that I can get back to living life, loving those who are still with me today, and to make the best of each day. I realize many people don't know how to console someone or they may feel awkward around someone who is still grieving -- but I'm the same ol' person you used to know, only difference is, I have more faith in God and more realistic expectations for the journey ahead. I've learned a lot through this experience, and I'm still trying to reach that point of freedom, to where I'm out of the isolation cell and into the world of the living. Baby steps for now. I'm hoping those who love me will be patient with me as I take each step slowly and at my own pace. I'm not saying that my grief is worse than another's -- I'm just saying that mine is just different. Fact is, I truly don't know how to handle the loss of my mother.

For more of Deb's articles, please visit: or join her on Facebook and Twitter. Check out her cooking blog for some of her famous recipes! Feel free to watch Deb's live broadcasts over on Periscope as well! 

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Where's My God?

Slowly plugging away attempting to write my second book, I've taken a much different avenue this time. Back in 2003, when I wrote my first book, my outlook was strangely different than it is now. Although I claimed to have been "born again" -- I truly wasn't at all. I admit this. And what I mean by not being born again as I claimed, I speak about the deep relationship I have with God -- not just "Oh I believe in God, therefore I'm saved." And...while faith and belief in God alone will ultimately get you saved, it's the 'fruits' of your faith which are most important. I kept asking God to change me -- to have me get to truly know who God was. I wanted a deeper relationship with Him.  The truth is, the Holy Spirit cannot live inside a body full of sin and sinful thoughts. There can't be two oppositions living under one "roof" so to speak -- and yet -- while the flesh is weak, the Spirit is stronger. You don't have to be perfect, but you have to desire to strive to change. Come to Him like a child.

"And I will give you a new heart--I will give you new and right desires--and put a new spirit within you. I will take out your stony hearts of sin and give you new hearts of love." --Ezekiel 36:26

As I kept asking God to change me -- to take my old stony heart out and replace it with a new one -- I found myself not wanting my old life back. I found myself desiring God more, and less of my own desires of the world. It took time, because I right after repenting, I would keep sinning again, and then repenting, and then sinning, and then repenting. But once you start realizing that your repentance is getting less and less (although daily renewal is wonderful) -- you'll see that it works like a muscle. The more you strengthen your faith and relationship with God, the stronger it gets. You don't have to worry either if your flesh gets weak, because God will always catch you. He knows your heart. So, it's literally impossible for us to not sin here and there, but if you keep praying for a new heart, you'll see that your life has taken on a whole new meaning -- a whole new LIFE. I used to think it was by works alone. "Well, if I do something good or help someone in need, then God will reward me." No. It doesn't work that way. You have to truly DO good from your HEART and the Spirit that is guiding your heart -- not from your own mission to get into heaven. I realized that it wasn't about "heaven" alone. It's about developing a deep and intimate relationship with Jesus in the here and now -- on earth, AS it IS in heaven as well. It starts here.

You have a messy life? Good, so do I. It's all the more reason to need God more in your life. Our struggles are apart of why we stumble onto God's strength.

"That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." {Then HE is strong.} --- 2 Corinthians 12.10

In my weakest moments, I felt God give me the strength I didn't have. I remember the day I was supposed to pick up my mother from the hospital. She was okay. I thought she was okay. The night before, she called me at 6pm. She said, "Hiya Deb! I miss you!' And I told her I missed her too, and how the house isn't the same without her. She of course, asked what I was having for dinner just so she could brag about her dinner in the hospital (which for some reason she loved.) We said our "I love yous" and goodbyes... "See you tomorrow. I'll bring up a bag so you can put your clothes in ma." The morning came, and I called her up just to make sure the nurses had her release papers, which as anyone knows, can take hours! When I called, it sounded as though somebody picked up the phone for her. It rattled and shuffled around until I heard my mom's voice.

"Deb? DEB!!!?"

"Ma, what's wrong?"

She screamed, "It's TERRIBLE! Oh Deb! It's TERRIBLE!" and afterwards, cries of pain. I told her I'd be right up there to get her. I had no clue what was going on! I never once heard my mom sound like that. Pain was small stuff for her -- she went through a ton of pain in her life, but I never heard her scream in such horror. Till this day, I can still hear her last words of horror to me.

Before I left, my phone rang and it was my friend to ask how I was doing. I started crying and telling her what happened. She prayed for me over the phone, and then I started to get chest pains while still holding the receiver. Soon enough, an ambulance picked me drive me to where my mom was, but to take care of ME. I couldn't believe I was going into the same hospital to PICK UP my mother in an ambulance! But I was there to see if I was really having a heart attack. The stress of seeing my mom in so much pain was unbearable for the past couple of years. It really took a toll on me.

As I was lying on a gurney in the hallway of the hospital, because the place was overcrowded -- I got a phone call from my sister. I told her that once I'm checked out I'll be right up to see Mom and get her out of there. I was apologizing for the lateness and detour of everything....

Then I heard, "Deb...she's not coming home today." But there was silence..... "She's not supposed to make it through the night."

As I sat up in my gurney with the phone still pressed against my ear, I started crying silently, mouth opened, no air coming out --- just a pain that zapped through my entire being -- like a baby before the big WAILING comes through. And then I started wailing right there, in the middle of the chaos around me, people being wheeled in and patients overlooking me from all the rooms nearby. My cries were as if I was dying. A nurse came by and asked if I needed a Percocet. She thought I was in pain. I just stared at her with tears gushing out of my eyes with my mouth wide open -- I couldn't shut my mouth!

"Debra? Debra? What's giving you pain right now? Is it your chest?" the nurse asked.

"Ma-ma-ma-ma-my mom is DYINGGGGGGGGGG UPSTAIRS!!!!!!!!!" 

In a matter of seconds, I had almost a dozen nurses surrounding me, throwing me kleenex and one of them saying that she'll no longer be in pain and that she'll be in a better place, blah blah blah... I knew she meant well but my mom!!! No! She was off limits! She was supposed to come home with me today! NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My blood work and EKG came back. I was fine. I shuffled myself upstairs to see my mom, lifeless in the bed she was making jokes in the day before. The morphine bags were out and they kept upping the dosage because her blood pressure showed that she was still in pain. I went numb. I just stared at her. In a matter of days, she was gone.

Someone who occasionally runs across my live broadcasts had emailed me when my mom died and asked, "Where's your God now?"

My God is right here. My God stopped me from having a heart attack. My God graced me with my sister in law who stayed with us during the entire process, cooking for us, and giving us some lightheartedness in the house. She comforted her sister as well as myself. The exact time Mom passed, she was there crying with us, as a family.

Where's my God?

My God sent me a rainbow the day of Mom's passing. It was so vivid, as you can see in the photo, and lasted for over an hour. I have never seen a rainbow last for over an hour -- ever.

Where was my God? My God was there when my mother in law and her husband came to cook for us, spend time with us and give us some peace of mind. They comforted us in our time of mourning. God brought them to us. They prayed with us and made us feel at ease.

Where's my God?

My God let me rest. He reassured me my mother was okay by sending me big white feathers (sign of angels) and doves that rested on my house cooing that entire week. The night before my mom passed away, He sent me an owl next to my window "hoo-ing" -- letting me know it was her time. My mother and I always said that if one of us should go before the other, we would send an owl. My God was there to provide that.

Where's my God?

I asked the Holy Spirit to enter my soul and to give me the power of healing from heaven.

The answer came through in a Bible verse: "There is forgiveness of sins for all who turn to me. You are witnesses of all these things. And now, I will send the Holy Spirit, just as my Father promised. But stay here in the city until the Holy Spirit comes to fill you with the POWER FROM HEAVEN." --Luke 24:47-49

Where's my God?

I was worrying about what would happen to our house and where we would go. As we cared for my parents, we also paid rent every month so that we can all live in it comfortably. This house is very expensive to live in -- 5 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, 3 living rooms and a fairly large yard, even if the house was paid off, there's no way we can live here without killing ourselves in the process. I prayed and said to God, "It just seems impossible!"

He said through scripture, "What is impossible rom a human perspective if possible with God." --Luke 18:27

Then He also pointed me to Matthew 26-29: "To those who use well what they are given, even more will be given, and they will have an abundance. But for those who are unfaithful, even what little they have will be taken away."

Then he turned me over to Ephesians 6:1-3: "Children obey your parents because you belong to the Lord, for this is the right thing to do. Honor your father and mother. This is the first of the Ten Commandments that ends with a promise. And this is the promise. If you honor your father and mother, you will live a long life, full of blessing."

This was all during one prayer session. It's as if He is really talking to me! It IS because He is really talking. All I do is pray to Him after giving him a thanksgiving prayer, and then I meditate on the Bible, placing both my hands on the book. That Bible is alive! And when I open it, the first thing that pops up is His answer. You have to have complete faith in order for this to work. This is why I know that I know God is ALIVE, and so is the Bible.

I can go on with more miraculous ways God has spoken to me, but I will leave you with this.. When you are in doubt of God and you need something -- a miracle -- a situation to get better or just God to just show Himself in some way -- HE WILL. When you seek Him with all of your heart, He will answer you. It may not be in the way you expect, so be open and alert. Keep conscious of all things around you, because you might just miss His answer.

For more of Deb's articles, please visit: or join her on Facebook and Twitter. Check out her cooking blog for some of her famous recipes! Feel free to watch Deb's live broadcasts over on Periscope as well! 

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