A Roller Coaster

by Donna Poole

Solomon, the wisest of men, wrote, “To every thing there is a season…A time to be born, and a time to die…A time to weep, and a time to laugh, a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” –Ecclesiastes 3

Sometimes the laughing and crying, the mourning and dancing all come in the same week, and oh the conflicting emotions! I call them the roller coaster weeks.

Roller coaster are fun if you get on them because you want to. Our brother-in-law, Bruce, was a roller coaster aficionado! He knew his coasters; he loved his coasters, and if you wanted to ride them with him, you better be prepared to run, not jog, from one to the next. Bruce was at the half- century mark when he and Eve, my sister, treated extended family to a day at Six Flags Great America in Chicago. I love amusement parks and especially roller coasters, so I was excited about going, but I was also forty years old and expecting our last child.

“You better ask the doctor what you can ride,” my sister Eve advised.

“Oh, he’ll let me ride everything,” I assured her. “I’ve been jump roping 1,200 times every day, and he said that was fine because I’ve been doing it for years.”

I wasn’t too happy with my doctor’s reply, “Don’t go on anything that goes around or up and down. Except the merry-go-round. You may go on that.”

So, when we got to Six Flags, I hung out with my sister Ginny, and we enjoyed talking and watching her youngest have fun on the rides for the littlest ones. The rest of the family disappeared, and those wanting to ride the roller coasters took off with Uncle Bruce. He might have been fifty years old, but the teenage boys soon found out it wasn’t easy to keep up with him when he had a gleam in his eye and a coaster in sight!

I didn’t ride the roller coasters that day, but I did many other times, and had a wild, fun, exhilarating time, unlike some others on the rides who were crying, begging to get off, or, worst of all, puking.

I never wanted off a roller coaster ride. But sometimes I’ve had enough of life’s roller coaster extremes of laughter and tears, mourning and dancing, and I’d like a plain, old, ho-hum boring merry-go-round.

Last week was a roller coaster. John and I were heading home after buying more paint for a room he and Kimmee, our daughter, were furiously painting, trying to finish before Thanksgiving. They didn’t have time to run out of paint, but they did. We were almost home when Kimmee called. I knew by her voice something was wrong. Through tears she told us that her sweet calico cat, Peggy, was dying.

Peggy, like all but one of Kimmee and Drew’s cats, showed up uninvited but found two of the best people to love and care for her.

Kimmee has been loving stray cats since she was old enough to walk outside and gather them into her lap. And she has been crying over them for just as long. Peggy was older when she found Kimmee; we think she must have been someone’s house pet before they dropped her off to make her own way in life. She was a funny little thing, walked like an old lady, followed Kimmee everywhere, and had the most gorgeous eyes. She almost always kept her tongue out.

When we got home, we could see Kimmee was right, Peggy was dying.

Kimmee and her husband, Drew, brought Peggy into the kitchen, wrapped her in towels to warm her up, and put a little electric heater near her. Peggy seemed to perk up for a few minutes, but then she had a seizure and was gone. God took her wherever He takes animals. You do know, don’t you, who sits beside every dying sparrow? The Bible answers that, and if God cares about the dying sparrow, He’s also there for every sweet Peggy.

Just a cat? Some might say that, but not God. Think, for just a minute, of the incredible creativity God used to make each of His creatures, and they all say something to us about Him. And the way we treat the animals He created says something about us to God. A godly person is kind to their animals (cf. Prov. 12:10).

No one is kinder to animals than Kimmee. The grief Peggy left behind was deep. Kimmee’s heart once again crumbled, because love anything, and you’ll get your heart broken.

But is it worth it to love? Through tears Kimmee returned the very next day to doing what needed to be done, finishing the painting. The day after that she made wonderful desserts for the family who was going to join us for Thanksgiving. But her hurt showed on her face, and my heart broke for her.

After two days in the kitchen, the day we’d been preparing for finally arrived, and family joined us. Because of the two nasty C’s—cancer and Covid, this was the first family Thanksgiving we’d had since 2019.

Love and laughter filled our house. We feasted on the roast beasts—turkey and ham and all the fixings. We welcomed a new family member; a great niece’s husband joined us for the first time and fit right in. We talked about Thanksgivings past, and how Bruce would have scolded us for having too much food.

I heard young cousins talking about one of their Thanksgiving traditions. Apparently, they bring Walkie-Talkies and send out distress calls no one pays attention to. It warmed my heart to see the kids making memories of their own they’ll talk about someday when they’re older and hopefully still celebrating the holiday as a family.

Yes, part of my heart was still mourning, not just because of Peggy. We’d lost someone too that week, a wonderful pastor friend, Clyde Wonders. John would be preaching his funeral on Saturday. Not only did I love Pastor Wonders, I love his family, and my heart hurt for them, knowing they were having their first Thanksgiving without him. And yet, a mourning heart can still dance. My heart was doing both.

I looked around the tables at the people, smiling, talking, eating, laughing. Love was there, and love is everything.

Our oldest granddaughter, Megan, is heading off to school in the spring to become a physician’s assistant. I don’t know if she’ll be here next Thanksgiving. We never know, when we sit at any table, who will be there when next we gather, so we love fiercely, we love with all the strength we have, even though we know that someday our hearts will be broken, because that’s the way it is.

Megan hugged me when she left. “Grandma,” she said, “that was spectacular.”

Yes, Megan, it was. Love is spectacular. It’s also a roller coaster. And we don’t really want to get off before we must. I’m grateful for the ride.

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These blogs are now available in eBook and paperback on Amazon:

Backroad Ramblings Volume One: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Two: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

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Photo Credit: Kimmee Kiefer