By Brenda Cannon Henley
Forgive the personal reference today in my column, but I have had an exhausting two weeks with over 3,000 miles covered and a lot of heartbreak. When I start to write my column always, I think of what I have been learning and how I can communicate what I have stored away in my heart and mind with those who follow my writing. I only know how to write what is in my heart. I might begin by saying that I always want to learn. I honestly believe that when we stop learning, we, in many ways, stop living. I have found in these seven decades God has given me that I can learn from every person I meet. Some things are very good, favorable, helpful, and even hopeful. From others I have learned traits that I do not want to incorporate into my life or heart. I often want to shy away from anger, jealousy, envy, bitterness, and unkind actions.

My best friend in Georgia had an accident and fell and broke her hip and her arm in two places, along with some other injuries. She was going up her son’s steps to begin to cook his birthday dinner and missed a step. We met when we were seven years old and went through elementary and high school together, along with many other good friends. We each married, built careers, homes, families, and great memories. Getting together as often as distance and jobs would permit, we still get excited when we know that we are about to meet at one of our notorious class reunions. Our ranks are smaller now that several have died and many are ill or live too far away to join us somewhere in Georgia.

Ginger had been in the hospital where she had undergone surgery and then in a rehabilitation center. She could come home, but needed some help to get around on a walker and in her wheel chair. I volunteered to come for two weeks and began to make the arrangements. I chose to drive so that I would have my own car here in the Atlanta area. On the way here, I received a phone call from my dear friend, Melvin Elkins, a Beaumont resident, who told me his cancer had been confirmed by M. D. Anderson doctors and tests. He buried his wife two weeks ago.

My heart was filled with compassion and prayer for people that I know to be good folks. After arriving in Atlanta, I made arrangements with my cousin to visit my 96-year-old aunt who has been ill for some time. Ann told me honestly that the visit would be much harder on me than it would on my aunt. She had lost a lot of ground since I saw her last. Ann was right. Before I visited in my aunt’s home, my sister and I slipped away to beautiful Amelia Island, Florida to visit my brother, seven years younger than I, who also has cancer and has been placed in hospice care. We have always been close and I thought this visit was almost more than I could bear. We were able to spend the entire day of Saturday with he and his wife and he talked openly about death, burial, his wishes, and how the military service would be conducted.

On the day I visited my aunt, someone sent me a writing that was somewhat funny, but to me on the day I received it, very true. It read, “I can’t adult today. I’m sorry. I just can’t.” If I had ever thought that “adulting” was simply too difficult, it was on this day. I was overwhelmed. I did not want to be an adult. I did not want to face illness, death, and pain. I had no desire to “make the best of a bad situation.” My friends and family had real problems and I did not have real answers at the moment.

I came back to my friend’s house and opened my Bible and began to read. 1 Corinthians 13 seemingly opened of its own accord. I read Verse 11. “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child, but when I became an adult, I put away childish things.” My heart was convicted and I prayed and asked the dear Lord to help me act like an adult, but one that cared for others. I did everything I knew to do to help those I loved and I am praying for each of them and their caregivers.

If we do not feel much like “adulting” today, may I suggest that we stop and seek some alone time and ask God to give us wisdom needed most to be an adult and to help those who need us most?

(This article published 7/20/2015)

Brenda Cannon Henley can be reached at (409) 781-8788 or at
[email protected].