Wanda.

This blog has become an outpouring of what's on my heart. Today, a woman named Wanda is on my heart and I want to share part of her story with you.

Just a few months after we moved to Orange Park, we met Wanda. Wanda was an older, single woman with a big, beautiful heart. She suffered from numerous health issues that kept her from working the job she loved dearly, nursing. However, she also dearly loved children and she bonded quickly with my daughter, who was just over a year old at the time.

I had begun teaching a Bible study on Wednesday mornings and needed someone to watch Karis for a couple of hours every week. Wanda offered to do so, for free, that was just who she was, but we compromised and we paid her a bit here and there, while also helping in other ways, rides to doctor's appointments or the store, etc, since she didn't drive. Through the next two years, she and Karis foraged a special bond and Wanda became a big part of our family. Even when I stopped teaching due to pregnancy, Wanda was still there, willing to give me a break from my sweet but demanding 3 year old. I never worried about Karis when she was with Wanda, and that's really saying something when a mom can not worry about her child. Every time Karis came home, she would have a new craft and a ton of stories about what she and "Deeda" did that day. We would sit in Wanda's living room, urging Karis to put on her shoes and chatting for a few minutes before we headed home. Her pack n play took up permanent residence in Wanda's apartment until she outgrew it. She would often beg to go play at Deeda's house, even when we had nothing going on and if Wanda was feeling well, she always welcomed her.

Today, around 9:30 this morning, my husband showed up unexpectedly at the house. I could tell right away something was off as he went directly to Karis and greeted her and then came in the bedroom and sat on the bed beside me, without saying much. I knew he wasn't angry and not really thinking about his silence, I began chatting about our morning when I could tell by the look on his face that wasn't why he was home and I stopped talking.

He took a deep breath and started with, "I really hate having to tell you this..."

My heart sank. I knew what was next. I don't know how or why, I just knew.

"...but Wanda died. They found her this morning."

I was shocked, but not surprised as Wanda's health had recently taken a turn for the worse. The last I'd heard from her was a voicemail a few days before. I was helping Karis and couldn't get to the phone, telling myself "If it's super important, she'll call back, she always does." The phone never rang again. Later, I listened to the voicemail and was struck by the difference of attitude I sensed in Wanda's voice but didn't put 2 and 2 together until later. She was just calling to tell me she was sick again and that she wanted to let me know and to call her back to talk when I could. Not being a big phone talker and totally lost in my own pregnant world, I took a moment to respond to her on Facebook (a normal way for us to correspond), letting her know I was sorry to hear that and we had backups for Karis in case I went into labor before she got better, but I didn't call back. I had become distracted again by my own thoughts. Was I ever going to go into labor? Was Jacob small due to just being small or was he not growing? Which backup were we going to call if I did go into labor?

While I rejoice that Wanda has now experienced the ultimate healing, I grieve that I didn't answer the phone. I grieve that I didn't call her back. I grieve that I let my own thoughts and desires cloud my intuition and showing this special woman that she was loved and cared for. I'll never get that time back.

I'm under no illusions that I could have prevented her death. I truly believe it was her time, her body was tired, as was her spirit. But perhaps I could have provided some peace and assurance that despite her problems, she was deeply loved and appreciated by many, many people. I'd told her Happy Birthday on Facebook the day before and planned to buy her a gift and drop it off with her monthly check, but I never got the chance. She was always forgiving of my scatterbrained ways, knowing that I often forgot things like that. Now, I'll never get that chance back. It seems that self-centeredness, even with a "good reason" like pregnancy, is no comfort in the face of loss.

When we told Karis, she asked if she could go play with Deeda when she got back from seeing Jesus. With tears in my eyes, I told her I wish it worked like that. She is only 3, so she doesn't yet realize the permanence of death. I don't know if she will remember her times with Wanda at all when she's older - but I do know that I will. I will remember the beautiful, loving woman who loved my baby girl without reservation when we were so far from our own families. And I will grieve the loss we feel here on Earth. I may not be able to attend her service since I'm due to have our Jacob any day now, so here are my parting words to our dearest Deeda.

Wanda - I am so sorry for the pain you endured in your life. I miss you already. Karis misses you already. You were and still are dearly loved. I rejoice that you have finally found peace and rest in the arms of your Savior and I know he greeted you with the the salutation of "good and faithful" servant. You brightened our days and most of all, you loved others in the best way you knew how. Especially your "short person friends". There's a big, giant Wanda-shaped hole left in our hearts and it will not be filled until we see you again, on the other side of this life. I hope that Jesus had a big pile of snow waiting for you when you got there. We love you and we'll miss you. I love you and I miss you. I can't believe that you're gone. I can't believe that I'll never again sit in your apartment, rolling my eyes at my crazy daughter and listening to your stories. I grieve that you didn't get to see Jacob in the flesh. I wish I had taken the time to cherish every moment just a little bit more. Life hasn't stopped, the world continues to turn, but it did get a little less brighter in our little corner.

Goodbye for now, my friend, our Deeda.