Can any of you who remember Martha tooling around in her wheelchair, sometimes carrying not one but two phones, imagine Martha not speaking? Because of the isolation caused by her polio, connection was Martha's middle name. She was communication central , if not for the Western hemisphere, for a good portion of Evanston and especially a sub-culture of middle-aged ladies. Whenever, a friend like yours truly wanted a little empathy, Martha was just a phone call away. And she would drop everything for her personal calls which could be a little annoying if you were trying to have a face to face conversation with Martha when a call came in. I remember once Martha proudly introduced me to the counselor who she was working with at the time. This is my therapist friend Linda, she announced. Martha is my therapist friend I shot right back. Middle-aged women with friends like Martha don't need therapists.
Martha's husband tirelessly oversaw the round the clock care in their home and looked after two teenagers. It was a home filled with the trauma of loss and supernatural love. It was a journey of heartbreaking loss, as Martha became locked into her body. For a while she could communicate with a raised eyebrow, towards the end, not even her eyebrows moved. Her beautiful face was frozen. Martha's husband, Dale, with great wisdom decided that the round the clock medical care was unsustainable long term and with great care and prayer moved her to a nursing facility. She developed an infection after a week in the facility and was transferred to the hospital and from there to a intensive care facility closer to home in Chicago. That is where she died this morning.
This blog is for remembering this powerhouse of a woman, friend, mother, and wife...for and from all who loved her.
I saw Martha earlier this summer when she was still at home, and it broke my heart. I sat in the car afterward and cried. It was so hard to see this vivacious woman--who tooled around the neighborhood in her power wheelchair like "chariots of fire," who cared so diligently for other people with disabilities (The Sunshine Group at Reba), who brought prophetic messages during worship, who was fun to talk to and be with (she loved to play Scrabble and always asked about the kids and grandkids), who, bless her heart, was a faithful reader of my Yada Yada novels, always asking for the next one for her birthday or Christmas--so expressionless, so "frozen in her own body" as Linda said.
ReplyDeleteThen I was out of state for a month, and when we came home, Martha had been moved to a nursing home at quite a distance, and then to a hospital closer by. I felt a nudge in my spirit Tuesday night to "go see Martha" since she was once again close by. I didn't want to go alone, so asked Janalee Croegaert to go with me. We barely got there before the lobby closed, but were able to spend time talking to Martha and singing to her. Her face twitched when we spoke--I truly think she was aware of our presence. And then . . . we heard she died the next morning. Oh, how gracious God was to us to give us that one last time to be with Martha before God took her home to be with Him!
My daughter Rachel reminded me that she "nannied" for Martha for 3 months when Bethany was born--and Martha was the first person she told when she discovered she was pregnant with Havah! Martha was so happy for her, so encouraging--and Bethany later became one of Havah's "Evanston friends" whenever she came to visit Grandma & Grandpa! The girls had so much fun having sleepovers, tea parties, and even a birthday party at American Girl! Martha and I were delighted that her daughter and my granddaughter connected, and it drew us together too.
Goodbye, Sweet Martha, until we dance together in heaven.
Neta Jackson
Amen Neta. You'll have to stand in line to dance with our dear Martha~!
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