Christmas 2004 – And then there were four

Dearest Family and Friends,

Thank you for all that you have been to us this past year, for all the support you have given to us. Sometimes it has been through ways large and obvious and sometimes in ways hidden enough that you might not even have recognized it as support, but in each act, we have felt your kindness pour healing into our lives. Facing this first Christmas without Heidi has been difficult. While out shopping for gifts some little thing will catch my eye and I’ll move towards it thinking, “Oh, Heidi would love that!”

Then I remember... and pray for the grace not to cry.

As I sit out here, in the woods behind our house, I am amazed at how bright and clear this day has dawned. In our part of Virginia grey clouds often obscure December skies. But today the sky holds the intense blue of the long gone summer days of my childhood, only this is not summer and the crisp cold wind both cuts through my coat and exhilarates. I would have thought its fierceness would send the songbirds into hiding, but I watch them wing straight through the gusts, singing for all they are worth.

I wish it were as easy for us humans to wing so above the winds.

Still, like the songbirds, I find I sing. Although the sorrow of loss may come crushing in and turn the notes to more of a minor key, I sing.

Some days that song may be quieter or less frequent than in years past, but it is not silenced. Always it waits there at the turn of a corner, at the end of a tear. I am not sure if the song is joy or if it is hope, but I have found both can live in a heart along with the deepest of sorrow. All three co-mingle until it becomes impossible to tell where one ends and another begins.

I thank the Lord that for our final Christmas with Heidi He gave us a particularly special time with our larger family. And when fatigue nearly overtook me and I considered not having our Twelfth Night dinner and communion, He prompted me to go ahead with it. Heidi always enjoyed this celebration. I would have been saddened if she missed out on one last time.

And I am forever grateful, that even in death, the Lord protected Heidi.

Just a mere half week after our Twelfth Night celebration and after an especially lovely time of worship in church, I asked Heidi if she would like to help me take down the tree or would she rather take a nap. Christmas was over for our household and Heidi was the only one who would try to help me with the decorations. Yet although always helpful, Heidi said, “I’m tired, Mom. I would like to go to sleep now.”

And while she slept, she slipped quietly into unconsciousness.

God’s mercy in action. It was nobody’s fault. No one lost a hold of her while they were walking her. It was not a medication error. She did not try to stand when my back was turned, and fall.

And more than all this, the relief to my mother’s heart is that she never had a chance to be afraid.

Three days later, while we stood at her bedside, she found her wings and took flight. Now like the cardinals we both loved to watch from our kitchen window, she flies high above the winds with their biting cold: her mouth full of song and her heart full of joy.

Heidi is no longer bound by a wheelchair; no longer bound by loneliness and desires that could never be fulfilled.

Instead, she dances with freedom in the presence of the almighty King whose name is Love. And she wears the beautiful gown all covered with jewels that many years ago one man had dreamed about. He had not known what the dream meant, but I did. The white ball room gown symbolized Heidi someday dancing in the presence of God, and the jewels were His promise to her, and to me as her mother, that all her suffering would not be wasted and that He saw her steadfastness and faithfulness in that suffering, and He would reward her when that day came.

One of the miracles that happened in Heidi’s long journey was that at her death, she was cancer free. The child who had been given a death sentence through a highly malignant, inoperable, incurable brain tumor had grown into a young woman who was able to serve one last time: as an organ donor. Through Heidi’s final gift, three men’s lives were spared and they were returned to their waiting families.

Our prayer for you this year is that you will know fully the One who came, and that in His presence you will find peace and joy, and a deep abiding sense of wonder. No matter what happens or how hard life becomes or what sorrows it may bring, we pray that you will know that He loves you and that He is faithful. He will be with you always and hold you close to His heart if you but ask Him to, for He is the One whose name is Love.

Merry Christmas – with all our love,

Patty, Michael, and Galen Christopher Kashtock