I'm a writer. Not professionally. I've never had anything published. I won essay contests often in elementary and right up through high school, but other than that my writing is for me. And others. I've been led to write often for others. Tonight, I'm writing for me, but hoping to strike a chord with others too. That, I think, is the goal for most of my blog posts. They are ramblings for myself, with the hope that they will find a target audience that they may help through something. To know that my story isn't over and I can use my journey to help others on theirs.
If you read my last blog post, you know that I lost a dear, sweet man in my life. Clay Maxim was my other dad. My girls' sweet Grandpa Clay. We hadn't known Clay for as long as many of the people I met over the last few days have known Clay. Clay was a byproduct of knowing Melody. Melody came first. And I won't ever forget my first twinge of admiration for this man I had never met. I was going through my journey with Brian and Melody sent me an email, asking how I was doing as she often did. I replied with my answer and she replied back to me with love and this statement (I remember like I was just reading it yesterday): "Even the unknown dad Clay asks about you and the girls often and sends his love." I was astonished. This man not only allowed me to saturate his wife's time and took her away from her family often to help me through various events, but he also cared about me and took me in as his own daughter without even knowing me. Hadn't even met me yet. He was concerned and cared. I was instantly loved by this man.
We finally met him, and my girls immediately fell in love with him. He taught them how to play Gray Wolf in the Christmas trees. He placed then tiny Amelia on his lap in front of his amazing drum setup and handed her the drumsticks, igniting her love of the percussion instrument that she now plays in beginning band. He took them on dates to the bowling alley where he taught them to bowl for their very first time. He called and scheduled meet-ups with them at Chuck E. Cheese's where he showed them how to throw a curve ball to score the most points in skee ball. He played with them. He listened to them. He called them to talk about wiggly teeth or new drumsticks. They would call and ask for help with something and he would run right over with his tools to tighten the cymbal on Amelia's drum set. Or give Emerson advice on drinking through a straw with a missing tooth. They loved him so very much. And he loved them right back.
And then all he did for me. He was always right there with anything I needed. Not hesitating to offer to help, even if I was just chatting about something. He teased and would flash his cheeky grin. He also just scooped me up and loved me. One day I needed to get away so I drove to Melody's house, thinking no one would be there. I parked my truck and got out and sat on her beautiful porch and sobbed and sobbed. I heard my name and turned and Clay was standing in the porch door, with a worried look on his face. He walked over and pulled me up and put his arms around me. Told me everything would be ok. And then took me in and we watched old band videos and chatted the afternoon away. He genuinely cared. He treated me as if I were just a part of his family. Just another daughter. And I know he had many daughters and sons that he just took in. He loved so many people and they loved him right back.
I miss him. I miss him with every fiber of my being. I know that he is no longer suffering. That he has been scooped up himself and taken into the arms of Jesus. He doesn't have Parkinson's. He doesn't have a tumor. He doesn't have tremors and pains in his legs or his feet. His language is intact. His vision is perfect. He's playing the drums and teasing all the angels up in heaven. He is healed! The tumor is gone and he is whole and sitting at the feet of Jesus.
That was probably my most favorite part of his whole journey - watching him change in his views about God and his faith. Back in October we had a conversation about God when he was first diagnosed with the tumor. God worked on Clay's heart from that moment on and he accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior after a while. He was baptized and welcomed Jesus into his heart. He was a changed man, marked by our Heavenly Father. On a journey and a mission for God. And his message of faith and love and hope and peace is a message that we hope spreads far and wide. He grew stronger everyday. I thought this would be physically when we were gifted that phrase, but it was spiritually. And the stronger he grew spiritually, the closer he moved to being with his Savior in glory!
In my selfish thinking, it was too soon to lose him. I wasn't ready. I know his family and friends weren't ready. We didn't get enough time with him! There were still games to play and smiles to share and nicknames to bestow. But Clay was ready. He was firmly planted in his faith and he was ready to go and join his Savior in heaven. He was brought complete, beautiful healing! He is whole and beautiful and waiting for his family and friends, and even strangers that may hear his testimony and come to the peaceful arms of Jesus. He is waiting to welcome each of us as we walk into the gates of heaven and join him in eternal glory.
There wasn't enough time. One hundred years wouldn't have been enough time though. To know Clay was to love him. He had an amazing personality, a joking spirit, and beautiful soul. He brought light and life to all those who interacted with him. He was fun and silly and goofy. He was the best. I miss him so very much. My heart is broken. I know that the same God that has healed Clay will also heal our broken hearts. And I will for sure be anticipating the reunion with him in heaven!
Clay is healed! The tumor is gone! Amen and amen!
Matthew 11:28 Come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.
Jeremiah 30:17 But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds declares the Lord.
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