The Hallway

There is a chair in my home that displays one of my most valued treasures. A hand stitched pillow. Its value lies right alongside my wedding ring and my memories.

Unlike the pillow from my childhood that I couldn't sleep without, the one with the special corner and worn fabric, the one that my parents brought to me at midnight when I slept away from home, this pillow has only been in my possession for a few months.

And so the journey of this pillow is one that helped to set my course with Ivey.
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So it begins.
There are some stories that no matter how they are told can never be done their justice. This is one of those stories. Some of the most important pieces of the story will remain untold. This is only the tip of the iceburg for this story. So I will try to keep this simple.

I have a friend. She is one of those people that you don't quite remember the moment that you became friends, but despite that, you can't live without her. It's funny how we complement each other. Not quite opposites, but enough differences to make us the same. She will take someone to Ivey's closet and show off my labels that mark where each item should go. She thinks it is crazy because you would never find her labeling anything. But secretly I know that she is more together than she lets on…..I've seen the interworking of her brain. But if you really think about it, how many friends would open your closet doors? That's my point. I could go on and on about her. But the one thing I have noticed about her is her heart. She never does anything wanting or expecting acknowledgment. She is one of the most thoughtful people I know. Actually – she is the most thoughtful person I know. When you need space - she not the one you need space from. I will stop here trying to describe her because no matter how hard I try - I will fail. That's the beauty of friendship - it is undescribable. But I also know that I can stop because she doesn't read this blog…in her words "She knows what is really going on so she doesn't need to read it." And she is right.
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I do recall that it began somewhere in the haze of 2006. Alot began that year.

I remember Ivey had been trached. I remember a phone call. I remember her saying that her mom had a condominium in Atlanta that we could use while Ivey was in Scottish Rite. But that's it – that's all I remember about actually talking to her. The kindness of acquaintances.
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The pillow was there in that place that was temporarily niched out for our family in a time of need.

I remember reading it over and over asking God 'why?!!'. Why was this happening? Saying over and over, "God, I know we are in a hallway right now"...and thinking I would rather remain in that moment of hell than open one of the doors that loomed shut in the lining of that hallway.

Those stitched pieces of fabric - well they absorbed many tears, muffled many sobbs and heard many pleas and arguements between me and God. Those moments with that pillow are some of the only real - tangible memories I have of that time in my life.
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You see I don't really have many memories of those days. Some days I am thankful for that little miracle. Other days I hate it. So I don't remember my first visit to 'rest' there- in an unknown person's living space. I do remember tucking the boys into bed there, crying because I had not seen them in days, missing Ivey at the hospital, worrying, and hating that our family was apart. Unmistakably fearing our future. I missed my husband. I was angry with God. Yes, that happens sometimes. Still. I remember holding that pillow. Rocking and swaying back and forth as I stared out the window at the Atlanta skyline…sometimes there was sunlight and revolving cranes on the tops of buildings other times just the lights of the city.

Rocking. Swaying. Squeezing the pillow.
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Somewhere during that time – Father Ard asked me how my prayer life was. My response. I wasn't really praying, just yelling at God a lot. He said that's okay – as long as we were conversing. And he left it at that.

In the days that have passed we God and I)have a good laugh about those days...he's rolled his eyes at some of my tantrums - saying "See, I told you to trust me."

If you ever wonder about my Faith - just ask the pillow, it knows.

Eventually – Ivey came home. The pillow stayed there. And a friendship evolved.
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When Ivey was born I heard a lot of cliché's as did I when she was trached and pretty much at every milestone corner – and that's okay – it is everyone's way of coping and explaining why this life is her life, a hard life, a harsher life –in our eyes. Now I know it didn't just randomly happen – God made it happen –and the joy and goodness that is coming out of this journey far exceeds the latter.

One thing I heard just shy of four years ago – still hear today –
"When one door closes, another door opens."
And you know that is so true. But often what they forget to tell you…

It's Hell in the hallway.
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So this past Christmas my friend came over to deliver Christmas presents.

And there in a box was the pillow.
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Before the pillow I always flinched at the thought of what the other door had to offer. I always thought of those game shows where there was a choice between doors and the chance at a shiny new sports car and the alternative door - a set of frying pans. During those days I remember thinking – "I didn't choose this door. I didn't even know it was an option."

The pillow, well, it is proof that things are as they should be.

Transitions are hard – the feelings are not permanent.
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Over the past three-and-a-half years when things got tough I thought about that pillow.
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Her mother –in- law made it and gave it to her mother. Why – I don't know. But in that living room overlooking the Atlanta skyline – it found me. And I found a friend.

So this year she asked their permission to pass it on…and they agreed. Needless to say I was surprised and speechless.

All I could say was 'The pillow??"

And now it sits in my chair.

Somehow she knew its value- even then. She's like that.

And even though I don't remember our first conversation, or the day that we became friends – there is a pillow. To most people who see it, they only see the words. But for me – it is the last thing I see at night, the first in the morning. It is a symbol. It is sacred. It represents hard times, choices, new normals, fear, friendships, answered prayers, unanswered prayers, love, and sacrifices. It represents sleeping baby boys. Time in solitude. Time in His presence. Hot showers. A thanksgiving dinner. Family. A baby girl. And friendship. Ties that cannot be broken. Unconditional love. It represents her.

Lately I've held that pillow more. I'll leave it at that.
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And for the record, I don't think we're ready to shut the door on this story - Ivey's life - not yet –