ALS
The sun was bright that chilly winter day just a couple of weeks ago as we chatted about the blessings of Christmas and all the ornaments that visitors had placed on his tall and slender tree. He asked if I would read to him from the book I had published a few months ago. As I completed what was intended as a daily devotional reflecting on a life occurrence, he would smile and say, “that was beautiful”. We shared together a few more “devotions” before I suggested we save some more for later. He said, “your words paint such a beautiful portrait of life at that moment.” All I could say was “thank you”, that’s encouraging. I visited him just one more time before the Christmas celebration that we all enjoy so much. The customary Friday visit around noon yesterday was postponed because he was not feeling well. ALS had taken a heavy toll on this masterfully talented man who is so respected by so many and music maestro to many more. As I woke early this morning and took my “awakening” position in the recliner, Gary came to my mind and I whispered words of thankfulness for his friendship and asked that God grant him peace and renewal. Around 10:00 am I received the call that my friend had passed away overnight. Grief engulfed my being as I held the sobs until after the call. The sobs were expressions of both loss and gratitude. I felt a deep sense of loss of a wonderful friend and at the same time tremendous joy at the freedom he now enjoys, having escaped the earthly shackles of this debilitating disease that kept him captive. I have only known him for a couple of years, making weekly visits to share reflections of life’s experiences and to encourage him along his journey. Others who have known him for seemingly a lifetime must truly feel the loss more deeply than I. I am so very thankful for the opportunity to meet, to share memories with, and to be enriched by this wonderful human known as Gary Ferguson. Thank you, God, and thank you Gary. I’m sure you both are rejoicing in the other!
In the shade of the giant oak we sat and reminisced about respective friends, family, and past experiences. Midst the beauty of the garden he designed long before the ALS overtook his freedom to dig, mulch and plant, a passion exceeded only by his love of music, we cherished moments of common interests in gardening, cooking and general every day aspects of life. For that hour and a half we were transported from the routine of managing life’s negotiated impediments to a magical place of sheer presence in the garden of the living past and present. As our time of freedom from agenda came to a close I was overtaken with a sense of gratitude for this time of sharing and the beautiful and bright garden so lovingly crafted from which we were about to depart. Gratitude and the care of others who value the human designer of the garden serve as nourishment for the garden’s growth and bounty of flowers springing forth as its testimony. For that time, for that place, and for the sharing of friendship and life’s blessings, we give thanks. From dreams and toil come the roots that ignite fresh memories in the soil of thankfulness. We are grateful to uncover each day that life is greater than a diagnosis. It blossoms brightly within the garden of gratitude in the midst of its creator!
The azaleas hugging the white clapboard house stood as a stark pink contrast in the bright sunshine of this unusually chilly spring day. Once inside the gated yard more but different colored blossoms came into view. Nature’s variety and variations were presenting themselves as evidence that even blooming bushes holding the same name were the same in name only! As I crossed the threshold into the bright and welcoming home space the warm and congenial face of one who is becoming a dear friend lifted his words of welcome. He, an unwilling host to ALS, has met many challenges and continues to thrive with the loving hearts and hands of neighbors and friends. Inspiration barely describes the emotional response I have experienced at the level of care and nurturing for the physical needs of this delightful and talented musician by those who attend him. As we engage our varied and sometimes tangential conversation we brush upon opportunities to encourage and lift one another in words of gratitude, hope, and faith. We express our wonder at the complexities of the human experience and the neurological quagmire that seemingly all too frequently turns from solid ground to engulfing quicksand. We stand for a moment on the metaphorical precipice that overlooks that valley into which one could so easily plunge emotionally and we lift our eyes and thoughts to the bridge of gratitude upon which we take steps of thankfulness. We grew up in different parts of the garden and we share the same label called human. Although our blooms are expressed in different colors, the core of our roots renders us in the same human family, nurtured by the soil of faith and nutrients of grace that are watered in gratitude.