"To see your face is for me like seeing the face of God..." Gn 33:10

In his book, "Rediscover Jesus" Matthew Kelly tells the story of a man whose colleagues, while in a hurry to catch a taxi, knocked down a woman's small fruit stand. 

As the group continued on, he went back to help pick up the scattered fruit. 

It was only then that he realized the woman was blind and that she had tears running down her face. 

After saving what he could and paying for what he couldn't, the woman said "Mister, are you Jesus?" He said "Oh no". The woman responded "I ask because I prayed for Jesus to help me as I heard my fruit falling all over the sidewalk." Matthew Kelly ends the chapter by posing the question, "When was the last time someone confused you for Jesus?"  

No matter how many times I think of that story or ask myself that question, my eyes water. 

Every time I consider the situation with my mom I think of all of the people in whose eyes I have seen Jesus and I think that acknowledging them is the best way to start this blog.

I've seen Jesus in the face of the nurses in Houston who tightly hugged my dad and I at our lowest point after the Dr's told us that my mom probably wouldn't make it. 

I've seen him in a stranger who stopped me to say that God moved her to tell me that he's "Got this". 

I've seen him in my cousins who fought tirelessly for weeks to get us transferred back home and then got the entire house set up to accommodate her, knowing that I just literally couldn't accomplish it on my own.

He is there in my cousin who still accompanies them to mom's appointments, fighting to get her the best care, fighting as if her own life depends on it. 

I've seen him in her best friend and in mine, who took such great care of my dad while he was staying with her at the hospital in Houston.

He was there in my friend and colleague who, without hesitation, moved into our house to watch my dogs for 2 weeks so that I could be in Houston when I was needed most. 

I see him daily in my husband who takes such great care of our son so that I can help my parents, all the while making sure that I'm constantly cared for. 

I see him in my aunt and uncle (not by blood, just by love) who drove to Houston to get them (once we finally were able to) only to come home and provide an amount of ongoing assistance that is unreal. 

I see him in her sisters who help us to get her looking her best, and in my brother whose presence brings so much security and confidence to all of us. 

I see him daily in my son who always has a smile in his eyes to remind me that life is still beautiful and that even on the worst days, the Lord is still good. 

I've seen him in my cousin (by love) who gave us clothes for William that I won't have to worry about buying anything as he grew, and in so many loving, compassionate friends who have reached out to offer anything and everything we need. 
Most of all, I see him in my father who has devoted every minute of every day to doing anything he can to provide the greatest level of care with the greatest amount of dignity. 

In so many faces and places, I have seen the face of God. 

I can't imagine going through this at any other time in my life under any other circumstances. How immeasurably blessed am I that God has so mercifully and perfectly timed this event. 

One could look at my situation and say that perhaps at any other time, with any other job, and any other set of friends, or any other husband I may have made it through. 

While I can't say with certainty that this is wrong, I CAN say with certainty that none of the above would be better. Because there is no better. 

I am at the greatest place in my life to accept the hardest blow I've ever had to. 

If this was going to happen, I am so blessed that God cushioned me so well. That he loves me so well. And that he makes sure, through the people he sent me, that I know it. 

I have always liked the quote "coincidences are God's way of remaining anonymous" and I believe that now more than ever. 

It is no coincidence that William was born on the very last day of the Year of Mercy after the prayers and tears to conceive; having recited the Chaplet of Divine Mercy daily, or that the last day of his horrible colic issues was the day before mom's surgery when her situation became so hellish and we couldn't afford anymore stress. 

No coincidence that Chuck is at a place in his life where he can stay home and be everything we need so that I can focus my attention on my mom without worrying about William's care and also that he can help get my mom to and from appointments to physically help my dad. 

It's no coincidence that my parents were already retired when this hit so that my dad could devote all of his time and care without having to worry about work. 

No coincidence that my brother was living back in the States at the exact time when we needed him. 

And it's certainly not lost on me that in the short years since she was first diagnosed she has been able to see me engaged, married, pregnant and as a new mom (even if it was just for a few weeks before this hit)-- and to see her so immensely satisfied with each of those things in a way that lets me know without a doubt how proud she is of me. 

People go through so much worse with so much less. 

I've had people look pitifully at my situation and say to me "Life's not fair, huh?" And I'm here to say, "No. Life's not fair, Thank God." 

Yes, in so many ways our situation is truly pitiful. But fairness would have left me with far less. 

Fairness would have put this event happening at any other time before now. 

Fairness wouldn't have dealt me the most phenomenal support system. 

I could look with jealousy at other people who are older than me with both of their parents but I will never think that they had more than me or that I'm any more deserving of it than them. I'm not deserving. I've always said that. I don't know what I ever did to have what I've always had in my amazing parents. 

Even if I had known that this is how it would all play out, I would choose my mom all over again, every day, every memory, every time. 

I could live a lifetime on the past 27 years. And I understand that I will probably have to. 

But I can... because it's enough... because it's more than enough... because life's not fair, thank God.