Saying Isn't All . . .

Saying it’s settled — the hurt is all gone
Doesn’t always mean the victory’s been won.

Saying “I’m fine . . . all is okay”
Doesn’t send deep-rooted memories away.

Saying is one thing —
Feeling, another.

Admitting the hurting
Is the way to recover,

Recover from hurts that
Have set life aback . . .

Recover from the pain of
Satan’s attack.

For only as we let God’s love heal our pain
Can we ever be whole and live life once again.

*(from “healing of the memories” songs and poems)

Carol E. Crain is pictured here as child in Pennsylvania. She wrote this poem in the late 1970s or early ‘80s when she was a young mother.

Feelings

By Carol E. Crain 

I have a “know so” salvation. 

  I can feel it — it is real.  

But if I could not feel it, 

 ’Twould be the only way still. 

My emotions may go up and down — 

  My feelings in . . . and . . . out . . . 

Yet, it matters not; for He’s my rock, 

  My Savior I’ll not doubt!

I know that I’m not on a trip

  Or a temporary high . . . 

No matter what my feelings are, 

  The Lord to me is nigh. 

Carol E. Crain -- Her Passing Chronicled

Carol E. Crain (right) is pictured with a therapy dog and his handler in the last photo I took of Carol, made at North Greenville Hospital, Travelers Rest, S.C., in Dec. 2018.  -- Steve Crain

After living since 1989 in Southern Pines, NC, Carol and I (her husband) moved on Jan. 10, 2018, to Taylors, SC.
 
But before that, during Dec. 2012, a blood clot moved (probably) from Carol’s leg and burst in her lungs, causing pulmonary hypertension. “Most people don’t make it to the hospital in your condition,” said Dr. Michael Pritchett, a pulmonologist affiliated with FirstHealth Moore Regional Hospital in Pinehurst, NC. Since then, Carol battled pulmonary hypertension (high blood pressure in the lungs). I hired on at Gulistan Carpet in 1989 but it went bankrupt, and I ended my work there on Jan. 10, 2013, right after that clot damaged Carol.
 
Skip forward to Tues., Oct. 17, 2017: Carol entered FirstHealth Hospital, Pinehurst, NC, with congestive heart failure. We had stayed in Southern Pines because of Carol’s doctors, but she felt, during this hospital stay, that the Lord impressed her to tell me, “Let’s move back to Greenville, SC.” (Our older daughter Janelle Smith and husband, Terry, live in Taylors, SC, part of Greenville County.) I said, “We’re almost too old to move.” 

On Oct. 21, Sat., Carol came home from the Reid Heart Center (of FirstHealth). Realtor Chuck Hust guided us in closing in Greenville, SC, on our Taylors house on Dec. 15, 2017. Carol reentered the Pinehurst hospital with breathing problems on Thurs., Dec. 21, and came home on Tues., Dec. 26. Mayflower moved us to Taylors on Jan. 10, 2018. Sherry and Steve Sturm of Greenville helped us. Jerry and Jan Brown of GA helped unpack. We sold our NC house on March 27, 2018.
 
Carol was hospitalized (Greer Memorial Hospital) on May 3, 2018, with elevated calcium and on May 7 went to National Health Care rehab. She returned home on May 25. We celebrated 48 years of marriage on Aug. 20, 2018. She spent Sept. 11-13 in Greer Hospital. She spent Oct. 28-31 in the hospital. She stayed in Greer Hospital for fluid drainage, Nov. 3-14, before transferring to North Greenville Hospital, LTACH (long tern acute care hospital), where she stayed (Nov. 14-Dec. 13). Carol was home during Christmas and New Year’s Day (Tuesday) 2019.
10:30 p.m., Wed., Jan. 02, 2019: Carol said, “I need to go to the hospital.” An ambulance took her to Greer Hospital. One blood pressure reading showed 71/27.
 
Thurs., Jan. 03: Dr. Armin Meyer, Carol’s pulmonologist in SC, told Carol he’d done all he could do. He recommended hospice care. Carol was “being kept alive” by medicines that raised her blood pressure while fluid was being taken from her body by diuretics. (For years, Carol had classic lymphedema in her legs.)
 
Sun., Jan. 06: Charles Fleming (a first cousin of mine) and his wife Sandra and Joy, their daughter, visited the hospital room. Two of their sons, Pastor Travis and Mark, visited, too, along with Travis’ wife, Jenna. Travis, visiting from Gallatin, TN, prayed for Carol.
 
Mon., Jan. 07: Dr. Meyer took Carol off all sustaining medicines, and she was transported to Hospice House of the Carolina Foothills, Landrum, SC. I drove separately; we arrived before 5:00 pm. I conferred with the admitting nurse. “We give only comfort medications here,” she said. (During her hospice house stay, Carol received “squirts of morphine derivative” as needed for discomfort.) I returned to Carol’s room. “Don’t leave me here in this place by myself,” Carol said. “I won’t,” I said. I slept nights on a couch near her. At one point Carol said, “I tried so hard.” I said, “Yes, you did, but your heart is wearing out.”
 
Tues., Jan. 08: Our daughter, Janelle Smith, and her husband, Terry, visited. Carol’s BP was 106/70.
Wed., Jan. 09: Carol took Phenergan for gas pains at 4:00 am. Janelle and Terry returned in the afternoon. Carol took off her engagement and wedding rings and handed them to Janelle. Tears flowed, but Carol shed no tears. I think the “distancing” I’d read about was taking place inside Carol, and she was weak and very tired. Carol had told me she planned to give those rings to Janelle. That night, I sat beside Carol and cried and told her how much I was going to miss her. She didn’t cry but seemed peaceful as she held my hand. I prayed for Carol and, for a while, watched her sleep.
 
Thurs., Jan. 10 (our 1-year anniversary of moving to Taylors): Visitors came: Donna Tidwell, Jan and Jerry Brown (from Georgia), Sherry Sturm, Connie and Don Rogers (from Pinehurst NC), Pastor Bill Montgomery (age 88), and Janelle. Carol had lapsed into sleep by nightfall. I called Janet Rice, Carol’s longtime friend. Janet talked to Carol by cellphone. Carol didn’t respond, but I think she heard Janet.
 
Friday, Jan. 11: Carol seemed unconscious. Sherry Sturm visited. Pastor Jerry and Jan Brown returned and at 12:10 p.m., we three sat around Carol’s bed. Jan suggested singing hymns. We sang three songs, and Jerry said, “I don’t think she’s breathing. I went for the nurse. She put her stethoscope on Carol, and after a long silence, the young nurse said, “There’s no heartbeat.” Carol had slipped out peacefully around 12:20 p.m. Janelle and Terry arrived just after Carol passed on. The nurse asked us to sit in a family room. Bob Griffith, a rep from Wood Mortuary, Greer, SC., arrived soon to transport Carol’s body.
 
We held Carol’s funeral service at noon, Wed., Jan. 16, 2019, at Wood Mortuary chapel, Greer, SC, my hometown. Pastor Jerry Brown led the service. Pastor Steve Sturm spoke. Four of Carol’s longtime friends spoke: Janet Rice, Sherry Sturm, Jan Brown, and Donna Tidwell. Pam and Bobby Mason and Robert Duckett provided music. I spoke briefly. Jerry concluded the service at Hillcrest Memorial Gardens.
 
Carol sometimes sang a song she wrote that is based on St. Paul’s statement, “To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.” Often, in my mind, I hear Carol’s voice singing that song. Waves of grief frequently hit me. In a grocery store, I saw a kind of coconut cake Carol liked. Tears came. We grew even closer as Carol greatly depended on me during the last year of her life. I forever will love Carol.

IS THERE ANYONE? by Carol E. Crain, September 2011

(Carol is pictured here as a child in 1948.) 


Is there anyone alive
Without a permanent scar
Affecting who they truly are?

Is there anyone alive
Who’s never known pain
Tearing their heart
Leaving a stain?

Is there anyone alive
Who got away Scott-free
From life’s hurts . . .
Not you or me.

But we know the Savior
Who can heal all our loss
Because He gave all
On His Father’s cross.

Is there anyone alive
Whom He won’t receive?
Not one – He’ll save all
Who will trust and believe.

When I Write

When I write
    I feel more
        Like myself
Than when I talk.

When I write
    I feel released and
        Relaxed.

When I talk
    I feel constricted,
        Restricted,
            Conflicted.

When I write,
    I feel Myself breathing easily.

When I talk,
    I can’t take a deep breath.

Is it any wonder
    I enjoy writing
        More than talking?

It’s only natural.
    I enjoy being released,
        Relaxed
            And breathing easily
More than being confined,
    Restricted,
        Conflicted
            And unable to take a deep breath.

 . . .
 
Talking demands
    I be someone else,
        Someone I’m perceived to be,
Someone I’m needed to be,
    Someone I’d rather not be,
        Someone I’m required to be
In order to put others at ease,
    In order to make the least waves,
         In order to flow in their stream,
In order to be permitted in their space.

I’m required to wear a certain face
    As I talk…

So—I would rather write…isn’t it obvious why?

Even as you read this you say,
    “You don’t really feel this way, do    
        you?”

Isn’t it obvious I do?
    Isn’t it obvious
        You’d rather not believe me?
Isn’t it obvious your reaction
    Is part of why
        I’d rather write than talk?

But I just did talk in my loudest voice…
    Pen and Ink!

-- Written by Carol E. Crain at 4:00 a.m., February 01, 2001 

Lord, Sometimes

By Carol E. Crain, written in 2010

Lord, sometimes I'm cast down
Turned inside out and around

Unable to quite see
The way you've planned for me

Unable, Lord, to know
which way my life will go

Then I pause and take a rest
Knowing You will do what's best

And once more I renew
All my faith and trust in You

Lord, sometimes I'm unglued
Often wondering what to do

Sometimes all my peace
vanishes as cares increase

Sometimes I lose sight
of your strength
And wondrous might

When I do, Lord,
Speak to me...

Gently nudge my
Thoughts toward Thee.

No Problem Is Greater Than You

   When the sun goes down upon my life
And the sunrise seems so very far away,
   I just call upon you, Lord, my source of Light,
And then you turn my darkness into day.
  
   When problems surround me, and I'm burdened with care,
Lord you're always with me . . . I know You are there.
   If I walk with you, I know you'll see me through,
For no problem in my life is greater than you.

Carol E. Crain's Obituary

 Carol E. Crain is pictured in 1971.

Carol Ellen Williamson Crain, 71, of Taylors, S.C., died on January 11, 2019.

Born in Oakland, California., she grew up in Washington, Pennsylvania, as a daughter of Betty Lee Day and the late Edward Williamson. She was a retired teacher and a member of Sandhills Assembly of God, Southern Pines, N.C. 

Also surviving are her husband, Larry Steve Crain of the home, and two daughters: Janelle Lee Smith (Terry) of Taylors, S.C., and Suzanne Crain Miller (Chad) of Raleigh, N.C.

Mrs. Crain affirmed that she “accepted Christ as her Savior” when she was four and a half years old at a “Vacation Bible School held at Broad St. Baptist Church in Washington, PA.” A 1969 Bob Jones Univ. graduate, she taught at Gateway Elementary School in Travelers Rest, S.C., before moving from Greenville, S.C., in 1988 to N.C. She last taught school at Hoffman Elementary, Richmond County, N.C. In recent years, she led inspirational book discussions and mailed letters to many, calling her letters “Envelope Hugs.” An account of her letter-writing can be found at www.carolecrain.blogspot.com. She and her husband moved from Southern Pines, N.C., to Taylors, S.C. in January 2018. After a six-year battle with pulmonary hypertension, she died peacefully at Hospice House of the Carolina Foothills, Landrum, S.C.

Funeral services will be held 12:00 p.m., Wednesday, January 16, 2019 at the Wood Mortuary (Greer, SC), conducted by Rev. Jerry Brown and Rev. Steven Sturm. Burial will follow in Hillcrest Memory Gardens.

Visitation will be held 6:00-8:00 p.m. Tuesday, January 15, 2019 at The Wood Mortuary, Greer, S.C.

The family is at the home. In lieu of flowers, memorials are suggested for Assemblies of God World Missions, 1445 N Boonville Ave., Springfield, MO 65802, or Hospice of the Carolina Foothills, P.O. Box 336, Forest City, NC 28043.

Drawers

By Carol E. Crain, written August 1, 2011

Throughout my life
I’ve had drawers of emotions –
Emotions I had to stuff,
Put away, not show,
And lock them up.

Then as I lived life later,
I was able to open the drawers
And look at the contents
Little by little – piece by piece.

The drawers are being emptied
more each year.
Some of the things I kept,
And thought I always would,
I see no use for keeping now.
I’m doing a kind of sorting,
Re-filing and re-thinking
About the purpose for keeping
Each memory . . .

Each painful experience
Letting some of them go
Isn’t like saying,
“This didn’t really happen to me –
This wasn’t really done to me,
This didn’t really affect me –
Or wreck me or wrack me,
Rock me or wound me!”

In time, I have seen
That letting some of the drawers’ contents go
Frees me, relieves me, heals me -
To make room for other positive
Experiences in my life.

Some memories are like old blankets
That keep me warm and comfort me.
Those I keep.

Other things in the drawers
Bring up sadnesses and pain,
Loss and damaged emotions.

What to keep? What to let go?
The Lord is helping me know.
Some things I redefine,
Rather than discard.

I look at them with the new light
I have gained through years
Of looking within, without,
With various lights shone
on my drawers’ contents.

Sometimes a spot-light glares.
Other times a soft-veiled light
Shows the finer details,
Rather than glaring, searing pain.

Sometimes I choose to keep
The drawer closed –
Contents kept in the dark,
Because I feel too frail
And not up to looking
At all that’s inside.

Sometimes when someone else’s pain
Is evident enough, I’ve opened my
Drawer and shared certain artifacts
In order to help them be set free
From part of their pain.

As I do, the Lord makes it worth it
To me to share my rips and tears,
My fears and rage and vehicles
Of healing.

Sometimes I want to be all fixed instantaneously healed and whole
And yet, I realize I learn
From the step-by-step journey
More so than if I’d been
Catapulted into instant perfection.

I do value the process, the
Gradual unveiling, un-layering,
Arranging and re-arranging,
Tears and expressed rage,
Sadness for loss and making
Peace with what is left –
What remains.

Sometimes, who I am now
Seems so intertwined
With who I was then.
I find it hard to separate Myself
From that child,
That teen, that person in her
Twenties and thirties.
I can’t really separate myself
into then and now.

I don’t have to be void of
Memories of them
In order to let the Lord
Give me peace now.

I don’t have to have the past
Surgically removed and discarded
In order to feel renewed
And able to be free to embrace now.

I don’t have to gut my life from then
In order to renovate my heart –
Remodel my mind . . .
Renew my spirit now.

As I look back, I’m empowered
To look ahead.
Only as I look back can I
Look ahead.

I don’t have to have amnesia
About my past memories
In order to create new,
Better ones.

Can anyone really understand
All the facets of my being?
No, I can’t expect them to.
They don’t live inside me.
They haven’t witnessed
My days and nights.

Only Jesus and I were there
When each memory was made,
When each rip and tear took place.
He was also there as the stitching
Took place.

He is the ultimate alteration King.
At times, I felt like my
Life’s tapestry was unraveling
And being reworked.
The back of the tapestry has
A variety of threads and knots,
But the scene on the front
Has been forming for almost
Sixty-four years.

The final stitches won’t be finished
Until the last day I’m here
On this earth.

When I see the Lord, I’ll have
A new tapestry of total perfection –
His picture of my life will be
What it was finally meant to be.
I’ll be who He created me to be.