"It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves." - Sir Edmund Hillary

It's Wednesday morning and I'm wasted - my typical status after preaching or teaching. Last night's attendance was down but I knew that was going to happen from those who told me they couldn't be there. I also expected some attrition from those who tried it out and decided it wasn't for them. That's OK.
But this thing happens inside me when numbers are down (regardless of what those numbers are). I try to compensate by raising my energy level with the result that I'm even more whooped afterward.
It's all OK. I'll be recovered in 12-24.

Continuing on the theme of my almost total inability to recall what people look like physically and my strong impressions of who they are on the inside, meet Emily and JR.
Emily and their daughter Eloise attended our church in AZ from the earliest days of its existence, back when we were meeting in a dance studio. JR was (is, for another 43 days) in the military working in Intelligence Services and was stationed overseas at the time. He'd be home for a few weeks it seemed, and then off again for a 2-3 year tour of duty.

I will never, ever forget Emily and Eloise. I have never met anyone with a stronger maternal love than dear Emily. I know she had her moments of frustration and irritation with her daughter, but her complete love and devotion to that little girl was obvious immediately. Emily doted on Eloise. That she was a service mom made that more remarkable because she was effectively a single parent.

I think Eloise was 5 when she died after a short illness and hospital stay. At that point JR's home base had been changed from Luke AFB there in the west valley of the Phoenix metro area to one near their hometown on Camano Island in WA. When Eloise died they contacted me and asked if I would come up and do the funeral and graveside service. I was honored and easily agreed. I'll never forget that experience, either.

Note: as I type this I'm looking at Emily in this pic and getting teary.

I should "introduce" you to Eloise.

Emily told me they had absolutely no indication before birth there were any problems. As soon as Eloise was born and before Emily could even hold her they whisked Eloise out of the delivery room and transported her to a larger and better equipped hospital nearby. (I don't remember where they were living at the time. It could have been anywhere given JR's military career.) As I recall her story, Emily told me JR was overseas when Eloise was born so she was left laying there in a panic wondering what was wrong with her daughter and why she had been hurried away.

Eloise was born with several serious birth defects, some of which were apparent from her appearance even as a newborn and some that were only discovered as testing was done in the weeks and months ahead. Eloise had more surgeries in her short life than most people have after decades.

Eloise never said a word and could only make guttural noises to indicate her pleasure or unhappiness. She never walked or crawled and had very limited control over her muscles. She could not grasp a spoon so Emily had to be fed her every meal. Five + years of diapers. Repeated infections that most kids would fight off easily meant she was frequently hospitalized.
Eloise needed care 24/7/365 and Emily gave it to her.

I confess that when they first attended Pathway I found it difficult to look at Eloise. (MY problem!) I eventually grew up. And I grew to admire Emily.

I wondered to myself how Emily and JR would cope when Eloise died. Would Emily feel a sense of release after caring for Eloise, often by herself, for so many years? After seeing her through so many surgeries, so many "minor" illnesses that became critical events because of her many physical problems?

I have never seen a couple grieve so deeply. Yes, JR, too. But because I knew Emily better I saw hers more clearly. She was so very sad it broke my heart. Her beloved Eloise was gone.

Emily and JR now have two adorable children, a boy and a girl. And trust me, I do mean adorable. But when I look at a pic of the two of them, and especially of Emily, I see someone I admire in the "hero" sense. She is the epitome of the word "mother." She loved huge and unconditionally. She never heard "I love you," she never got a hug, and she often had no idea why her daughter was so upset. But man, did she love that little girl.

I interacted with Emily a couple of days ago through Facebook about JR's retirement after 20 years in the military. I told her I wish I could be there for his retirement party. "You are VERY welcome to come! We'd love to have you!"

Look, I made SO little money in 42+ years of being in ministry. But you cannot take away from me the blessing of knowing people like JR and Emily.
As I look at her pic with JR taken very recently I think...she's beautiful. I told her that, too. But mostly I see a mother who loved, who taught me about unconditional love, and who schooled me. I hope I get to see them again before I die. I'm sure glad God blessed them with more children and I hope he gives them SO much good stuff in the years ahead.
Oh my.

Thank you, dear Emily. You've blessed me.