This is a true story about two women, young women, newly married women with their first two children, two young boys.
This is a story of what relationship is all about, relationship as God planned it from the beginning, relationship with Him and with each other. Stay tuned to the end. God never disappoints.
I remember the first time we met. There we were two young mothers, arms filled with blankets, diaper bags and baby boys—as we literally bumped into one another. As our eyes met, we smiled a knowing smile. Both of us understood in that instant what the other was going through. I think we most likely had the same thought, “Why didn’t God give us two more arms the moment we both gave birth?” The only words I recall were polite, “Hellos,” and “Excuse me,” as we each made space for the other to pass through the nursery door.
From the first brief encounter, I believe the Lord joined our hearts. Our lives were busy. We each had husbands, homes and babies to care for. But both families became a part of that church where we first met. So as a result, we had many more chances to talk as we “picked-up” and “delivered” sons each Sunday in the nursery.
We had so much in common. She was totally devoted to being a full-time mom. So was I. She loved Jesus. So did I. She had creative hands with almost anything. So…well, I tried.
When one got frustrated with being a stay-at-home mother, we knew all we had to do was pick up the phone and at the other end would be someone who really knew what we were going through. Just to hear her voice…my how her voice could lift my heart.
At times there were no words to share, yet through our Father God, we said volumes. She understood why I couldn’t be around much as she prepared to have her second child and later after he was born, my spirit rejoiced with her, but my heart was broken over the loss of my second child. As I searched for words that Sunday, my eyes filling with tears, she simply stood, took me in her arms and said, “It’s o.k. I understand. Whenever your ready, call.” How great a friend had the Father blessed me with?
While her first son was still a little toddler, the challenge began, malignant melanoma. Just a little mole on her back aiming for her heart. Through months of surgery, skin grafts, recovery, and drug treatments, she remained firm. She was who she was, a wife with a self-employed husband who needed her, a mother with two young sons depending on her…and a friend.
As our church family tried to reach out and minister to her, we often left with her having ministered to us. Her faith was strong, not a Sunday religion, but who she was, the core of her being. It was a very deep, personal relationship with her Father, Lord, and Savior. This was her strength.
Remission came. No new cancer was found. What a joy to hear! Soon after that my family and I moved from Forth Worth to Georgia. We kept in touch. No matter how long without contact, the instant we phoned, we picked up where we had last stopped. My heart sank as I received word—the cancer had returned. This time it was in her liver. Her challenge reached a level few will ever realize. Having lost her dad to liver cancer only a few months before, she knew what was ahead medically. Once again, her faith must be her strength. Now there were three little boys to call her “mommy.”
Miles away from the hard day-to-day reality of her fight, my spirit could only reach out through prayer. My how I prayed, how we all prayed, during those difficult days, weeks and months. Through phone calls, cards, and mutual friends we shared the battle. The Lord would guide me when to be in touch.
Our last talk is one I’ll always cherish. In spite of all her pain, her voice glowed. She laughed and I cried. Our hearts were forever merged.
A few short months later, I had the overwhelming need to send her flowers. She was a fresh flower person and I wanted to be there with her so desperately but could not. So, I ordered them . . .
A few hours later I received the news. She was already at home—her Father’s house. She didn’t need earthly flowers anymore. She was seeing the glory of the heavenlies. Her struggle was over. She had won eternity with her Savior.
I can’t phone her, but I see her every day. I see her in the Seminole sweatshirt she made me when our second son was born. I see her in a log cabin quilted heart she made me when I moved away. I see her in colors, quilts and Christmas cookies.
My Father blessed me with a heart sister and a forever friend. “Angie, how can I ever say “Thank You!” You better wear ear plugs the day we are reunited, because we both have a lot still to say. – Kim Simmons
_________________________________
This is a story of what relationship is all about, relationship as God planned it from the beginning, relationship with Him and with each other. Stay tuned to the end. God never disappoints.
I remember the first time we met. There we were two young mothers, arms filled with blankets, diaper bags and baby boys—as we literally bumped into one another. As our eyes met, we smiled a knowing smile. Both of us understood in that instant what the other was going through. I think we most likely had the same thought, “Why didn’t God give us two more arms the moment we both gave birth?” The only words I recall were polite, “Hellos,” and “Excuse me,” as we each made space for the other to pass through the nursery door.
From the first brief encounter, I believe the Lord joined our hearts. Our lives were busy. We each had husbands, homes and babies to care for. But both families became a part of that church where we first met. So as a result, we had many more chances to talk as we “picked-up” and “delivered” sons each Sunday in the nursery.
We had so much in common. She was totally devoted to being a full-time mom. So was I. She loved Jesus. So did I. She had creative hands with almost anything. So…well, I tried.
When one got frustrated with being a stay-at-home mother, we knew all we had to do was pick up the phone and at the other end would be someone who really knew what we were going through. Just to hear her voice…my how her voice could lift my heart.
At times there were no words to share, yet through our Father God, we said volumes. She understood why I couldn’t be around much as she prepared to have her second child and later after he was born, my spirit rejoiced with her, but my heart was broken over the loss of my second child. As I searched for words that Sunday, my eyes filling with tears, she simply stood, took me in her arms and said, “It’s o.k. I understand. Whenever your ready, call.” How great a friend had the Father blessed me with?
While her first son was still a little toddler, the challenge began, malignant melanoma. Just a little mole on her back aiming for her heart. Through months of surgery, skin grafts, recovery, and drug treatments, she remained firm. She was who she was, a wife with a self-employed husband who needed her, a mother with two young sons depending on her…and a friend.
As our church family tried to reach out and minister to her, we often left with her having ministered to us. Her faith was strong, not a Sunday religion, but who she was, the core of her being. It was a very deep, personal relationship with her Father, Lord, and Savior. This was her strength.
Remission came. No new cancer was found. What a joy to hear! Soon after that my family and I moved from Forth Worth to Georgia. We kept in touch. No matter how long without contact, the instant we phoned, we picked up where we had last stopped. My heart sank as I received word—the cancer had returned. This time it was in her liver. Her challenge reached a level few will ever realize. Having lost her dad to liver cancer only a few months before, she knew what was ahead medically. Once again, her faith must be her strength. Now there were three little boys to call her “mommy.”
Miles away from the hard day-to-day reality of her fight, my spirit could only reach out through prayer. My how I prayed, how we all prayed, during those difficult days, weeks and months. Through phone calls, cards, and mutual friends we shared the battle. The Lord would guide me when to be in touch.
Our last talk is one I’ll always cherish. In spite of all her pain, her voice glowed. She laughed and I cried. Our hearts were forever merged.
A few short months later, I had the overwhelming need to send her flowers. She was a fresh flower person and I wanted to be there with her so desperately but could not. So, I ordered them . . .
A few hours later I received the news. She was already at home—her Father’s house. She didn’t need earthly flowers anymore. She was seeing the glory of the heavenlies. Her struggle was over. She had won eternity with her Savior.
I can’t phone her, but I see her every day. I see her in the Seminole sweatshirt she made me when our second son was born. I see her in a log cabin quilted heart she made me when I moved away. I see her in colors, quilts and Christmas cookies.
My Father blessed me with a heart sister and a forever friend. “Angie, how can I ever say “Thank You!” You better wear ear plugs the day we are reunited, because we both have a lot still to say. – Kim Simmons
_________________________________
Angie died around 1986; I don’t remember the exact date. Kim could tell you exactly when. We had just moved back to Georgia. I lost my wife, Kim, in September of 2021 to you guessed it, cancer. She struggled for over 17 years and was the light of my life. I have been going through boxes of personal items over the last year. Kim kept everything. I have found, I believe, every card I ever sent her. I have found poems I had forgotten about, songs I wrote her. To be honest, some things I forgot about in dealing with all the pain of watching her suffer. God things.
We become so selfish about what is important to us. “Hey God! What about me!” As I have sat in my living room floor and opened card after card, crying out, “OK God! I get it. You love me!” As I read the above story recently, after probably what seemed to Angie only a brief blink of an eye, she needed those ear plugs as she heard Kim cry out to her forever friend. – Dale Simmons
We become so selfish about what is important to us. “Hey God! What about me!” As I have sat in my living room floor and opened card after card, crying out, “OK God! I get it. You love me!” As I read the above story recently, after probably what seemed to Angie only a brief blink of an eye, she needed those ear plugs as she heard Kim cry out to her forever friend. – Dale Simmons