Life’s a Puzzle

A Piece of the Puzzle

A critical piece of our puzzle fell into place that cold November day when my mother-in-law had a massive stroke. She was alone and had been laying on the frozen ground for hours. My heart broke when I heard the pain and hurt in my husband’s voice on the phone telling me, “Get to Mom’s now!” How could such a terrible day, ending with word that Rita had passed away near midnight, leave me with such hope? This rebound in my spirit, from helplessness and loss to an inspiring lift-off, came from watching my son P.J.’s behavior and hearing a few words spoken with unexpected clarity. P.J. spends most of his time in his own world, oblivious of things that are happening around him, talking and singing to himself, and watching videos. With ten years of experience loving and being frustrated by our autistic son, we still had a hard time figuring out what was going through his head. Now, my own head was spinning with the amazing realization that he could know more about the meaning of life than I did.

Mysteries and uncertainties surround us, and I spend a lot of mental energy trying to make sense of it all, and trying to force everything to fit together. A solution, a divine connection, came at a time when I needed it most. This horrible day was the day God chose to use my P.J. to give me proof that life is so much more than what we can see, hear and touch. P.J. has always had trouble interpreting signals from his senses. He is very literal. P.J. had been standing next to his grandma’s bed in the emergency room. “Grandma, Grandma!!” he said as he turned away from her, looking upward to the ceiling. “Grandpa!” he said. P.J.’s grandpa had passed away a few years before. It was remarkable how sure P.J. was of his words. Could it be that P.J. was seeing a glimpse into Heaven? It was enough proof for me to know that there is life after death. God was just getting started on helping me to see the big picture of life. Amazingly I learned that everything happens for a reason and God really was right there with each one of us. From here and ever-after, I would never be the same. Tears would still fall, but the image of why things happen the way they do kept getting clearer, letting me see things in a whole different light.

Four of Rita’s five children didn’t show up at the hospital when they were informed of their mom’s serious condition. For various reasons, only they each understood, they had not spoken to their mother for quite a while. So, my husband, Paul, was alone when I left him with his dying mother. I needed to take our two boys home. It was getting late; it was a school night. The doctors had said they didn’t know if Mom would hold out for hours or days. Her pulse and breathing were strong. But they made it clear that she would not live and there was not one thing they could do about it.