It takes a village

You've heard that saying a million times before, I'm sure, you know...the one that says "it takes a village to raise a child?" That saying is an African Proverb and it is filled with truth. It takes so many people to help raise a child safely into adulthood, not only in Africa, but in America, too. It also takes a little village of loved ones to help a family member get over the hurdle of a major health issue like breast cancer or surgery or some other sort of debilitating issue, and this weekend, I witnessed it as some of my family members rallied around me.

My dependable, doting daughter, Laura, was right beside me as I made my way into the hospital for surgery on Friday. She's always there when I need her. She doesn't complain, doesn't make excuses, doesn't hide behind her fear...she's just there...at the ready...to do whatever it takes, whenever it happens, for as long as is necessary. And that's one reason I love her so. She's got the gift of service and she is wonderful in administration...she's a real take charge kind of person, the kind you need when you're unable to think clearly and make your own wise decisions.

I was thankful for her sweet spirit. As she worked hard to help calm my nerves by making jokes and acting silly to make me laugh and forget what lay ahead of me, she was really good at her job. She also listens well and paid careful attention to the medical team as they were giving her instructions on my aftercare. She heard things I didn't and I knew I didn't have to worry about remembering because she would remember for me. That's my girl. Laura. Dependable. Responsible.

And then there's another in my village, although he couldn't get off work to be with me, he prayed the entire day I was in surgery. As soon as the clock struck 3, he dashed home to be right beside me caring for me and loving on me. My husband. My rock. My gentle giant. He's so good to me and so tender. He's my protector and my guardian. Fluffing pillows and spreading blankets. He knows just what I need and when I need it. He gets to see the tears when everyone else is gone and he loves me through them. He sees the raw, unadulterated pain and allows me to feel it but doesn't allow me to stay in the midst of it so long that it overwhelms me. My husband. My love. I'm so thankful for him.

In my village, there's also my baby girl. The one who's no longer a child, but she's my last born, and will always be my little girl forever. She came to be with me too. She's so much like me it's scary. She's filled with mercy and love but knows how to step back and let others take over when necessary. Just her being here was a great gift. It's so good to know I am so loved. Jamie. My baby. She sees deeply and loves thoroughly.

And my village holds a few who couldn't be with me, but even though they couldn't be here in the flesh, they took time to voice concern. My son, David. He made time to call my daughter, Laura, as we were on our way home from the hospital. He was checking in to see if I was okay. Thoughtful. Diligent. Dave. My one and only son.

Then there's Erin, my oldest girl. She lives so far away but tries so hard to stay involved. She couldn't be here either but oh, she's always here in spirit. She calls many times a day to chat...to check in...to assess the situation. She's good at that. She would make a good spy. She knows what to "look" for and even though she's hundreds of miles away, she does what she can to help. She's a mother and knows how to mother her own mother well. Such a good caretaker. She is a sweet source of support. My oldest girl, Erin.

Without my village, I wouldn't be doing as well as I am today. I don't know how people without families survive. I remember thinking, as we planned my surgery a few weeks ago, it must be hard not having someone to rely on for help during a time of crisis. As the nurse explained I'd need someone to come and stay with me at the hospital, I was thankful to know I had someone. What about the people who didn't have anyone? What about the people who had to have a taxi cab drive them to the hospital for surgery and then they'd have to call again for the cab to pick them up and take them back home. I couldn't imagine. I don't think I could ever do that, but some people do have to make those choices. They don't have a village of people to come and sit with them while they recuperate. They don't have loved ones to stand by and help them and encourage them as they heal. It's so sad and so many of us take having our village for granted. I think that's why God gave us families...so we could have our own little village. Our own little unit of loved ones to be there in time of need...to share the good times and the bad times...to share in the happiness and the joy, but also to share in the sorrow amid the tears.

And for those who don't have families, there are villages of friends. The family members we get to choose are called friends. They come in all shapes,sizes, and colors, with different gifts and personalities. They are blessings of love. Some stay in our lives for long periods of time and others are just passing through but God uses them to minister to us...to help us...to teach us about love. Those villages are priceless. But I'm thankful for my very own village and for never being left alone to struggle through difficult situations and circumstances.

Today's been a rough day. Every move I've made has been painful. I hear a weird "sloshing" noise when I move and I know that's not normal. When the nurse called to check on me today, I mentioned it to her. She sounded concerned and said she needed to discuss this with the doctor. Dr. Sroka, head of my current tribe. She's the chieftan. The one in charge of my medical care and I trust her implicitly. She's very attentive and caring. I'm thankful for her.

I wasn't surprised at all when Michelle, Dr. Sroka's nurse called me back this afternoon. She said the doc was concerned about my sloshing. She wanted me to come into the office to have the fluid drained. If left untreated, she said it could cause a bad infection and since I haven't been given the all clear to drive yet, I had to sound the tribal drums (not really, I just got on my cell phone, but you get the picture!) and let my daughter, Laura, know I'll need a ride again. As I was explaining my situation to her, I began to cry. I didn't mean to the tears just slipped out. I apologized to her for having to call on her once again but she assured me it was okay...that she was available, any time, any place.

After I got off the phone with Laura, I had myself a good little cry. The tears were from pent up emotions but also were tears of thankfulness and joy. My tribe. What would I do without them? And just as I finish up this post, the Chieftan called. She wants to see me in her office tomorrow. I'm not looking forward to having a large, hollow needle inserted into my chest wall to draw off fluid but it's necessary. It's amazing to have so many people watching out for me. It truly does take a village.

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