In the last week of January in 2003, I saw my cancer-riddled mother struggle before she left, straddling the fence between this earth and all she held dear, and the world she would soon enter, the one as a Christian she looked forward to going to. It seemed to me that she was bargaining, or trying at least to have the last word with her Creator. She wanted to make sure all would be well with those she loved after she died - her kids would be alright, her grandkids would be safe and sound, her list of prayers would be answered. For one week, from the Monday to her last Friday, her tears flowed unashamedly and her arms were raised to the heavens, but she was restless, discontent, obviously not at peace. All was well with her own soul but she wasn't sure about all the loved ones she was leaving behind. Letting go of her motherly and grandmotherly influence over us all was difficult. This struggle I saw within mom was disconcerting to me and left me ill at ease each time I saw her.
Then on a sunny Saturday morning, the first one in February, and my mother's last - I witnessed a beautiful thing. She was outside with my brother-in-law. I was watching them as he pushed her in her wheelchair around the court. Her face was raised to the sun, feeling its warmth, and the look on her face told me she had finally given everything to God and "crossed over." She had made her peace with Him. She had a permanent smile on her face, a knowing, if you will, like her spirit was already gone and her body, or tent, was on its way out. What a gift and privilege it was for me to see this. Evidence of her faith - of Who she believed in and of where she was going, was written on her face, in the calmness and stillness of her eyes, in that peaceful Mona Lisa-like smile she had. It confirmed in me what my faith all boils down to - the place it takes us to - to the last few minutes on earth. When we have that choice to make.
I am thankful we had time with her, that her death was not sudden. And I'm thankful that I was able to witness that transition in her. It spoke truth to me. It is something I will never forget and it's something I myself look forward to. Going from temporary citizenship on earth to my true homeland, to the place I was made for, to the place my heart yearns for.
Then on a sunny Saturday morning, the first one in February, and my mother's last - I witnessed a beautiful thing. She was outside with my brother-in-law. I was watching them as he pushed her in her wheelchair around the court. Her face was raised to the sun, feeling its warmth, and the look on her face told me she had finally given everything to God and "crossed over." She had made her peace with Him. She had a permanent smile on her face, a knowing, if you will, like her spirit was already gone and her body, or tent, was on its way out. What a gift and privilege it was for me to see this. Evidence of her faith - of Who she believed in and of where she was going, was written on her face, in the calmness and stillness of her eyes, in that peaceful Mona Lisa-like smile she had. It confirmed in me what my faith all boils down to - the place it takes us to - to the last few minutes on earth. When we have that choice to make.
I am thankful we had time with her, that her death was not sudden. And I'm thankful that I was able to witness that transition in her. It spoke truth to me. It is something I will never forget and it's something I myself look forward to. Going from temporary citizenship on earth to my true homeland, to the place I was made for, to the place my heart yearns for.
1 comment:
Thank you for sharing such a treasured memory.
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