I'm not sure why there are still such times of sweating. I can literally be sitting calmly without any exertion or excitement, and within minutes be drenched with rivers of moisture from my neck, right down to the back of my hands and top of my feet. Glistening from the inward inferno within my core, I tell myself I am least 10 years past menopause. I should be beyond these "hot flushes." Perhaps it is the weather, even global warming, as our "typical California weather," has been replaced with the high humidity of the Midwest. Or maybe it is just the reality that once you hit menopause, your body temperature never is the same. It's like your thermostat is always "a bit off." And that's when I recall my Mom, even in her 80's, all of a sudden, having to fan herself because of the heat that no one else felt. It's like we are in our own climate zone, apart from the rest of the atmosphere. I tend to chuckle when this happens, and wish my Mom were here so I could finally say to her, "I get it!" I get how hot you must have been when you dressed up in all "your undergarment armor" just so you could look trim, and yet how often you claimed "how hot it is!" The rest of us, just looked at you blankly, "Really? It doesn't seem that warm to us." I get the sweet relief you had when the time came to take it all off. Oh, if I had only known. . .
August's humidity and monsoon type weather brought fluffy, low lying clouds. Certainly, more common in the Midwest than here, but they served to remind me of Dad's last days. He had always been a fan of his native homeland in the center of the States; Washington, Illinois. He loved the flat horizons, the smell of growing corn and soybean fields. He was always drawn to the livestock of the farm, for often he would tell me how he had loved the baby calves that he had grown up with. One of my best memories with Dad, was taking him back to his farm and letting him climb up on the gigantic farm equipment. He suddenly became as spirited as a boy with his brand new toy! If only I could share my sky of puffy clouds with Daddio once more . . .
August will always be bittersweet. It signals the end of my favorite season of summer and already starts the cycle of shrinking daylight hours. Thirteen years later since Mom has died, and eight years since Dad passed on, I am orphaned. Orphan shoes never seem to fit, no matter how old you get. All you are left with is memories, letters and journals. None of that resolves the issue of longing for just one more talk, one more question and answer dialogue, one more time of acknowledging all that they meant to you and how you appreciated all that they were. . .
Goodbyes are always hard, though we endure so many of them in our lives. I found myself in tears as I said farewell to our young work colleague of the past 4 years. She was moving on to a new life as a newlywed in a different state. She was one that I appreciated as a daughter, so I made a point to be sure and give her a hug each day until she left. Always eager to work hard and go the extra mile, she was emotionally vulnerable, honest with herself and others, and so very funny and fun to be with. I couldn't help but be reminded of myself so many years ago when adulthood loomed before me as a mysterious adventure. . .
Interestingly, it seems it's not until the end of relationships or even later that we finally "get it." We finally understand what had been said and lived out before us. The disciples were no different. Jesus had been living before them, as God Himself, performing miracles over nature, human suffering and dying. Still it seemed difficult to believe until the "almost end." The last meal shared together, they acknowledged that "You are speaking plainly, and are not using a figure of speech. Now we know that You know all things, and have no need for anyone to question You; by this we believe that You came from God." (John 16:29-30) And yet, when all went awry and Jesus was seized and crucified, they ran and scattered. Orphaned, fearful, and depressed with their infant faith and belief, they were left behind. . .
Another August has passed. I made it through the days of memories past. I am left behind, but I am not alone. Life will still challenge me, "scatter me," and bring me grief. But I have been told these things so that in Christ, I find my peace. Courage comes to me through tribulation. Jesus was raised to life, and eternal life is knowing Him as my God and Savior, even if I never see Him with my eyes or literally hear His voice. I will trust what He left behind for me, His written word. . .
"These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world, you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world."
(Jesus, John 16:33)
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