Dear wonderful, wonderful friends of Pam,
I know that Pam really appreciates how many people want to be with her and support her but — believe it or not — she’s so easily depleted these days that even the shortest, kindest, most loving, most supportive, most gift-laden visit is oftentimes a burden to her.
Myself, I love it when the doorbell rings; I love seeing each and every one of you. These days I feel as if I’m swimming in a warm bath of support, and nurturance and well wishes. For me, your attention is a big plus — but I didn’t just have brain surgery!
Pam’s life, these days, centers around sleep. That’s her number one job. Number two job is sleep and number three job is sleep. She’s got to take her pills, and have her meals, and take a few strolls around the apartment to keep her muscles working — but she sure ain’t the entertainer she used to be!
So, by and large, I’m going to have to urge you to make the most of your ‘virtual’ visits to this website. Actual visits are going to be few and far between. She knows you’re thinking about her, and she’s truly grateful; but when she declines your invitation please don’t take it personally.
Besides sleep, there is also prayer. Pam told me today that she “heard” the voice of Jesus in her heart. She told me she climbed into his lap and asked, “Do you really, truly love me?” The LORD responded, “All you ever had to do was ask!” Pam was so happy when she related this to me, so content, so satisfied. I told her that, for twenty two years of marriage, that’s what my prayer has been for her. More than health, more than fun vacations, more than success for our super talented daughter, more than the hope of grandchildren someday, more than a beautiful home. The ‘more’ I’ve prayed for is that she would hear Jesus knocking and simply let him in. You see? Prayer DOES work!
Maybe she was just trying to make me feel good, but she told me she ALSO asked Jesus if her husband “really, truly” loved her. She was very satisfied with that answer too. Apparently, the big guy has my back.