I picked up the phone to call you today. I didn't really want much; I just was going to say "hi" maybe "how are you" and definitely "I miss you and sure wish I could see you and give you a great big hug". This feeling happens to me often. I think of how great it would be to talk to you, even if only for a few minutes. I remember how many talks we used to have and how I cherished spending time with you.
It is after this feeling that the hurt comes. For it is at this time that I remember that I am not able to call you because there are no phones in Heaven. You have left this world and moved on to the next one. You are in eternity while I am stuck here missing you. The hurt that comes is not an "ouch" type of a hurt. There are not external scars or any visible signs at all. It is all inside. It is a feeling that starts with the heart being crushed under a ton of weight followed by a feeling of what is left of my heart falling down into the pit of my stomach. I ache in ways that I never knew were possible.
When a bone is broken, it can be re-set and a cast put on until it heals. When the skin is cut so deep or wide that it will not heal, stitches or staples can be applied to ensure proper healing. Even a small cut can be taken care of with anti-bacterial medicine and a band aid. But this hurt, the pain of a lost loved one, there is no cure. No fix will make it better or go away. Time might ease the pain a bit but the hole in my heart will never be replaced no matter what I or anyone does.
While there is no cure for the pain, there is hope for the wounded. Two simple words can answer all my hurt; BUT GOD. You are with Him now and I will see you and Him one day. Until then all that I have to cling to are His words. Philippians 4:19 tells me that " And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus" (Holman Christian Standard Version). How can I remember this? Philippians 4:6 tells me "Don't worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God" (Holman Christian Standard Version). He is what I can lean on. As hard as it is, I'm praising Him for being my rock, my strength and my shield.
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Friday, February 21, 2014
Ten... Twenty... Thirty... ... ...
My dad, Larry Bussa, has spent a lot of years in misery for a number of reasons. He suffered loss of very close loved ones from a very early age including the death of his own father when he was only 12 years old, all the way through his life; including the death of his mother, a brother and a son. As most of us, he never really was able to handle the passing of such close loved ones. Like we all struggle with, my dad was hurt by many people and he made some bad choices and paid dearly for those mistakes. But the last three years of his life have proven to be the most miserable for him and all that love him.
Dad had been in poor health for a very long time; but 3 years ago, his health started to decline drastically. He had known that his liver was failing and he knew that his heart was not in good shape. He was in pain from previous back surgeries and numerous other issues. But then they found cancer. Dad was so worn out, but he continued fighting. Staying true to being the trooper that he was, he fought the cancer. Surprising everyone who knew him (including the doctors!) he had surgery to remove the cancer and fought hard to get rid of it. It worked... for a little while.
After the fight with the cancer, dad's liver issues began to become an even bigger problem. Mostly because of this, he entered into Hospice while we watched helplessly as he slipped further and further into another world. He would have good days, but then he would have very bad days. We never knew when the last would be. Every time he got bad, we would assume the worst and fear that he was gone. There were so many times that I would get the news and rush down to where he lived. The entire three hour drive I would be praying that I could make it in time to hold his hand as he passed. So many times, I would get there in time for him to perk up and "come out of it" and he would "get better". We knew he really wasn't getting better but there sure were many times when he would seem like it.
These times when he would "come out of it" and seem to get better proved to be bittersweet. I lost count of the times both me and my sister would say "I don't want him to die but he is so miserable and it just breaks my heart to see him in such misery!" I would look in his eyes and see the pain and suffering. It dug deep into my heart and just shattered it. There comes a time when a person realizes that there is only one way to end the suffering and that one way has got to be better than what we have here.
One day his hospice nurse said that it might be time for me to make the trip down to see him again. Thanks to the gentle nudging from my husband, I made the arrangements and headed down south once again. Some how I knew that this would be my final trip to visit him. This was verified in my heart upon walking into his room and seeing him. His breathing was labored and he was non-responsive. His eyes would open periodically, but it was obvious that my dad was no longer there. Day one came and went and it became clear that it was a wise choice to bring an over night "just in case" bag. The only place for me at this time was to be with my dad.
Day two there were not many changes. He opened his eyes even less and we knew that he was slipping away. I had only packed my "just in case bag" for one night, but I knew I could not leave his side. My husband, my mom, and my mother in law all reminded me that this was where I was supposed to be. I made a quick trip to the local Wal-Mart and got some necessities and decided I was not leaving. I am sure that this was the nudging of an awesome God who had me there for a reason.
That night dad opened his eyes. But he was not looking at any of us. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. He looked straight to the ceiling with the most peaceful and amazed look I had ever seen on the man's face in my life. He had no strength to lift his finger, but somehow was trying to lift his whole body straight out of his bed, but upward. He smiled a smile that was out of this world. It wasn't a normal look, or a normal smile it was something that was completely of a different realm. I believe with all of my heart that we were allowed to see that to give us peace; and it did just that for me. I knew that my dad's time on this earth was done and that he would finally be out of pain; he would finally be happy, healthy and at peace. He hadn't had that in so long, but it was coming for him. And I knew that it was coming soon.
Through-out the next day I watched as things slid down hill. He had began to "mottle" which is what the Hospice nurses had been looking for to show that the time was near. He also developed some strange (to this day still unknown) black spot on his eye. Eventually, (and time seemed to not matter those three days, so I have no idea what time of day it even was), the Hospice nurse came in and stated that she could not find a blood pressure and that it would not be long. We all settled in, watching, waiting, trying to just deal with what was happening. Then, all of the sudden, he started to shake. It wasn't a seizure, but that is the best word that I can use to describe it. He opened his eyes once after this. Much to our surprise, the spot on his eye that we had discovered earlier was completely gone. This still baffles us all, including the nurses.
In God's perfect timing, while dad was having this "seizure" my husband and daughter walked in. I sat on his bed, holding his hand, while my sister and my step-mom sat on his other side. All of these years I had prayed that I would be able to be there for my dad and hold his hands as he passed. It meant the world to me. I weighed heavily on me as I sat and watched. God in His goodness was granting my wish. He was allowing me to be with my daddy. I would not have wanted to be any other place.
I counted the seconds between his breathes. I had read of all the things that could happen. I knew that there could be periods of time between breathes of up to 20 seconds. So I counted. For the past three days his breathes had been 3 seconds apart. Now all of the sudden, there would be five seconds between breathes. Then it would go back to 3 seconds for a short period of time. Then ten, then back to three. Finally we got to twenty seconds. Then he breathed again. Then nothing for another twenty seconds, then another breath. Next, after another twenty seconds, there was a breathe but it was different, it was more of breathing out instead of breathing in. Somehow I knew that this was his last breath. I squeezed his hand and, in my mind, whispered "bye daddy, I love you." Then I went back to counting. As before, I tried to count to the normal intervals, realizing I was holding my own breath at each second. 3... 5... 10... 20... 30... my sister looked at me a mouthed "is he gone?" I simply shook my head, "yes".
All of his years of pain and suffering was finally over. He was no longer hurting, no longer sad, no longer in misery. My dad, Larry Bussa, was granted peace from this life and full entrance into a much better and completely amazing realm on Wednesday, January 29, 2014. I cannot wait until one day I can join him there myself. I know that one day, like him, I will go there and be with Jesus, and my dad, and so many other loved ones that have gone before me. While I miss him terribly, and can be sad that he is gone, I cannot be sad that he is there. He is finally at peace. He is happy. Until that precious day when I join him, I am left with these simple words, "Bye daddy I love you and miss you. I will see you again one day!"
Dad had been in poor health for a very long time; but 3 years ago, his health started to decline drastically. He had known that his liver was failing and he knew that his heart was not in good shape. He was in pain from previous back surgeries and numerous other issues. But then they found cancer. Dad was so worn out, but he continued fighting. Staying true to being the trooper that he was, he fought the cancer. Surprising everyone who knew him (including the doctors!) he had surgery to remove the cancer and fought hard to get rid of it. It worked... for a little while.
After the fight with the cancer, dad's liver issues began to become an even bigger problem. Mostly because of this, he entered into Hospice while we watched helplessly as he slipped further and further into another world. He would have good days, but then he would have very bad days. We never knew when the last would be. Every time he got bad, we would assume the worst and fear that he was gone. There were so many times that I would get the news and rush down to where he lived. The entire three hour drive I would be praying that I could make it in time to hold his hand as he passed. So many times, I would get there in time for him to perk up and "come out of it" and he would "get better". We knew he really wasn't getting better but there sure were many times when he would seem like it.
These times when he would "come out of it" and seem to get better proved to be bittersweet. I lost count of the times both me and my sister would say "I don't want him to die but he is so miserable and it just breaks my heart to see him in such misery!" I would look in his eyes and see the pain and suffering. It dug deep into my heart and just shattered it. There comes a time when a person realizes that there is only one way to end the suffering and that one way has got to be better than what we have here.
One day his hospice nurse said that it might be time for me to make the trip down to see him again. Thanks to the gentle nudging from my husband, I made the arrangements and headed down south once again. Some how I knew that this would be my final trip to visit him. This was verified in my heart upon walking into his room and seeing him. His breathing was labored and he was non-responsive. His eyes would open periodically, but it was obvious that my dad was no longer there. Day one came and went and it became clear that it was a wise choice to bring an over night "just in case" bag. The only place for me at this time was to be with my dad.
Day two there were not many changes. He opened his eyes even less and we knew that he was slipping away. I had only packed my "just in case bag" for one night, but I knew I could not leave his side. My husband, my mom, and my mother in law all reminded me that this was where I was supposed to be. I made a quick trip to the local Wal-Mart and got some necessities and decided I was not leaving. I am sure that this was the nudging of an awesome God who had me there for a reason.
That night dad opened his eyes. But he was not looking at any of us. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. He looked straight to the ceiling with the most peaceful and amazed look I had ever seen on the man's face in my life. He had no strength to lift his finger, but somehow was trying to lift his whole body straight out of his bed, but upward. He smiled a smile that was out of this world. It wasn't a normal look, or a normal smile it was something that was completely of a different realm. I believe with all of my heart that we were allowed to see that to give us peace; and it did just that for me. I knew that my dad's time on this earth was done and that he would finally be out of pain; he would finally be happy, healthy and at peace. He hadn't had that in so long, but it was coming for him. And I knew that it was coming soon.
Through-out the next day I watched as things slid down hill. He had began to "mottle" which is what the Hospice nurses had been looking for to show that the time was near. He also developed some strange (to this day still unknown) black spot on his eye. Eventually, (and time seemed to not matter those three days, so I have no idea what time of day it even was), the Hospice nurse came in and stated that she could not find a blood pressure and that it would not be long. We all settled in, watching, waiting, trying to just deal with what was happening. Then, all of the sudden, he started to shake. It wasn't a seizure, but that is the best word that I can use to describe it. He opened his eyes once after this. Much to our surprise, the spot on his eye that we had discovered earlier was completely gone. This still baffles us all, including the nurses.
In God's perfect timing, while dad was having this "seizure" my husband and daughter walked in. I sat on his bed, holding his hand, while my sister and my step-mom sat on his other side. All of these years I had prayed that I would be able to be there for my dad and hold his hands as he passed. It meant the world to me. I weighed heavily on me as I sat and watched. God in His goodness was granting my wish. He was allowing me to be with my daddy. I would not have wanted to be any other place.
I counted the seconds between his breathes. I had read of all the things that could happen. I knew that there could be periods of time between breathes of up to 20 seconds. So I counted. For the past three days his breathes had been 3 seconds apart. Now all of the sudden, there would be five seconds between breathes. Then it would go back to 3 seconds for a short period of time. Then ten, then back to three. Finally we got to twenty seconds. Then he breathed again. Then nothing for another twenty seconds, then another breath. Next, after another twenty seconds, there was a breathe but it was different, it was more of breathing out instead of breathing in. Somehow I knew that this was his last breath. I squeezed his hand and, in my mind, whispered "bye daddy, I love you." Then I went back to counting. As before, I tried to count to the normal intervals, realizing I was holding my own breath at each second. 3... 5... 10... 20... 30... my sister looked at me a mouthed "is he gone?" I simply shook my head, "yes".
All of his years of pain and suffering was finally over. He was no longer hurting, no longer sad, no longer in misery. My dad, Larry Bussa, was granted peace from this life and full entrance into a much better and completely amazing realm on Wednesday, January 29, 2014. I cannot wait until one day I can join him there myself. I know that one day, like him, I will go there and be with Jesus, and my dad, and so many other loved ones that have gone before me. While I miss him terribly, and can be sad that he is gone, I cannot be sad that he is there. He is finally at peace. He is happy. Until that precious day when I join him, I am left with these simple words, "Bye daddy I love you and miss you. I will see you again one day!"
Monday, January 20, 2014
God's Plan for Joshua
Sometimes a soul can even fulfill their purpose before they are even born. Such is the case for a young one named Joshua Daniel who died when he was just 17 weeks in his mother’s womb. His mom feared for her own safety because of his father so she decided she only had one choice; to keep herself and his older brother safe, she chose to have an abortion so she could safely break away from this man. She loved him and didn't want to do this, but felt she had no choice. So one October morning she drove to a hospital and Joshua's precious little life was over,
Even though he was physically gone, God's plan for his life was just beginning. His mother never stopped thinking about him. Though this was her "choice" she never stopped loving him. God started speaking to her, he used this awful event (along with others) to show her that she needed Him. He wanted her to give her life over to Him. While sitting alone at a Christmas play that very same year, she agreed with God that she needed him and gave her life to Him.
Things started changing quickly for Joshua's mommy. One night, she was at a concert where the artist was singing a song about a baby who had been aborted. It was a very sweet song with a wonderful message, but Joshua's mom felt nothing but guilt. All she could think of was that day that he died. She felt such guilt and shame that it literally took her breath away.
With the help of a good Christian man (who later became her husband and daddy to Joshua and all his siblings) she learned to give this guilt and shame to God. God took her pain and began to use it for His own glory. She helped start a local Bible study where God allowed her to show others His forgiveness and grace. God allowed her to use this one very short, precious little life to show so many other people who God is and how He can take even the worst of situations and use them for His glory. He took this one little boy’s death and used it to help many other people, including his mommy.
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