Friday, May 27, 2011
Must Read
This article is simply fantastic: http://solofemininity.blogs.com/posts/2011/05/alzheimers-and-gospel-transformation.html.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Messy Grief
Yesterday morning at the traffic light, I turned to the car beside me. A woman was wearing a watch that looked identical to one my Mom used to wear. I then observed how her jacket was the same style and color as what Mom used to wear. The glasses were also similar, as was her hair and her face... she looked just like her. I had to pull myself out of staring. My heart raced. I turned my eyes away. The light turned green. It took all my might to press the gas pedal and leave her behind. All I could do was cry.
I asked the Lord why I took notice of this woman. Perhaps to replace the images I carry in my mind of Mom’s final days. Or maybe to remember how she would have been now, had she not been ravaged by Alzheimer’s Disease. Perhaps just to be reminded that she is healed now – far better than she could’ve ever been here on earth. Or maybe just to expose my feeble heart that sometimes just needs to cry again. To continue to grieve even when it feels like I’ve done so much grieving.
The other week a friend and I took the kids to a playground. It was a fun place – lots to see and do, lots to chat about. She just asked how I was doing. I started talking and within three minutes I was bawling. When I give words to my feelings and memories, I can’t help but cry.
I don’t want to think about certain elements of this whole situation. I thought for sure I’d want to go visit my Mom’s roommate again, but I don’t. I don’t want to go back down those halls; I don’t want to be in the room where I saw her dying body for the last time. I don’t want to smell the food cooking because it will remind me of all the times we sat next to each other. And it will remind me of when she could still walk and talk and it’s just all too painful.
Each week when I drive to visit my Dad at his house, I feel like I’m driving to go see her and I wish I could but I can’t. She’s not there.
I was trying to envision the other day what life would be like if Mom was here and healthy. Would she be working? How often would she come to visit us? Would we go shopping together? Would she love to do certain activities with A? The truth is – I feel her absence so profoundly.
I don’t like to idolize my Mom. She was not perfect. She made mistakes. We didn’t always get along. But, I loved her dearly and I miss her. I never knew quite what it would feel like to NEVER see her earthly frame again. I miss her presence. I miss walking into a room and looking for her face. I miss touching her skin. And knowing that she could still hear me. Just being near her.
Now that she’s gone, I remember more of who she once was. I’m able to see past what the disease made her. As we go through the things left behind in my parents’ house, my memories are restored. But, it’s as if this immeasurable gap remains between the Mom I grew up with and the person who left us. It’s been so long. I don’t know how to bridge the two worlds together. I feel the gap all the more since she’s gone.
When I was a child, I always wanted to be with my Mom. I missed her everywhere I went. I found a journal the other day from when I worked at a summer camp. I wrote of how much I missed home. I was weepy every Sunday evening I went back to college. I feel as if I’m experiencing the greatest separation that could ever exist and everything within me hates it. I hate it. I want nothing to do with this. I want to put up a fight. But nothing I do, nothing I feel can restore what’s been broken. And nothing can bring her back.
I’m left with painful images of dying, death. I’m left with that last day when I wanted to go back and see her and didn’t. I’m left with the night I knew death was near and I climbed into my bed. I’m left with our phone being downstairs the morning she died, never hearing it ring. Packing a picnic lunch to go see her to realize my Dad had called to tell me she had died. I’m left with every detail of pain, every feeling of loss. Every last look into her eyes. Every last feel of her feeble hands.
There is nothing right about death. I can’t say this enough.
Yet in this great loss and separation, Christ comes to lift me from such darkness. “But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.” (Psalm 3:3) And, He reminds me that I was once separated from Him, but no longer am.
Christ came to bring me near, to restore what had been broken, to usher me into fellowship with Himself. Un-ending fellowship and relationship. And, He assures and promises me (and He always keeps His promises) that He will never leave or abandon me (Hebrews 13:6). He will never be overcome by something bigger than Himself. He will always be the sovereign, powerful conqueror. I don’t have to fear Him going away.
Luke 15:31 Jesus says, “’Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.’” It’s Sonship. It’s family. It’s a tie that is not broken. I’m His child. And, as His child, I want to be meek and humble like Christ is (Matthew 11:29), who submitted Himself to the will of God, knowing it would entail great suffering. I want to be fully surrendered to the work He wants to do in my life. And, right now, presently, this is the work He’s about. And, I can trust His hand and His presence will be with me the entire way through this journey.
Sinclair B Ferguson says meekness is “… the humble strength that belongs to the man who has learned to submit to difficulties, knowing that in everything God is working for good.” He then goes on to say,
“We have seen that mercy is God stooping down to man in his weakness and inability, to bring him healing and restoration. He is the Good Samaritan, binding wounds, carrying burdens, and providing for the man who was attacked by robbers (Luke 10:33-35). This is what God does for us in Christ Jesus.”
This morning it hurt to wake. I cried out for Him to carry this burden. And He did. He is continually lifting my head and my heart! And He will never stop doing this. He is redeeming and restoring everything the robbers’ stole. And it’s all been accomplished through His everlasting work on the cross. His saving work is finished, but His ministry to my heart continues. And I will always be thankful for this!
I am not alone.
“Though the fig tree should not blossom,
nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
and there be no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
(Habakkuk 3:16-18)
I asked the Lord why I took notice of this woman. Perhaps to replace the images I carry in my mind of Mom’s final days. Or maybe to remember how she would have been now, had she not been ravaged by Alzheimer’s Disease. Perhaps just to be reminded that she is healed now – far better than she could’ve ever been here on earth. Or maybe just to expose my feeble heart that sometimes just needs to cry again. To continue to grieve even when it feels like I’ve done so much grieving.
The other week a friend and I took the kids to a playground. It was a fun place – lots to see and do, lots to chat about. She just asked how I was doing. I started talking and within three minutes I was bawling. When I give words to my feelings and memories, I can’t help but cry.
I don’t want to think about certain elements of this whole situation. I thought for sure I’d want to go visit my Mom’s roommate again, but I don’t. I don’t want to go back down those halls; I don’t want to be in the room where I saw her dying body for the last time. I don’t want to smell the food cooking because it will remind me of all the times we sat next to each other. And it will remind me of when she could still walk and talk and it’s just all too painful.
Each week when I drive to visit my Dad at his house, I feel like I’m driving to go see her and I wish I could but I can’t. She’s not there.
I was trying to envision the other day what life would be like if Mom was here and healthy. Would she be working? How often would she come to visit us? Would we go shopping together? Would she love to do certain activities with A? The truth is – I feel her absence so profoundly.
I don’t like to idolize my Mom. She was not perfect. She made mistakes. We didn’t always get along. But, I loved her dearly and I miss her. I never knew quite what it would feel like to NEVER see her earthly frame again. I miss her presence. I miss walking into a room and looking for her face. I miss touching her skin. And knowing that she could still hear me. Just being near her.
Now that she’s gone, I remember more of who she once was. I’m able to see past what the disease made her. As we go through the things left behind in my parents’ house, my memories are restored. But, it’s as if this immeasurable gap remains between the Mom I grew up with and the person who left us. It’s been so long. I don’t know how to bridge the two worlds together. I feel the gap all the more since she’s gone.
When I was a child, I always wanted to be with my Mom. I missed her everywhere I went. I found a journal the other day from when I worked at a summer camp. I wrote of how much I missed home. I was weepy every Sunday evening I went back to college. I feel as if I’m experiencing the greatest separation that could ever exist and everything within me hates it. I hate it. I want nothing to do with this. I want to put up a fight. But nothing I do, nothing I feel can restore what’s been broken. And nothing can bring her back.
I’m left with painful images of dying, death. I’m left with that last day when I wanted to go back and see her and didn’t. I’m left with the night I knew death was near and I climbed into my bed. I’m left with our phone being downstairs the morning she died, never hearing it ring. Packing a picnic lunch to go see her to realize my Dad had called to tell me she had died. I’m left with every detail of pain, every feeling of loss. Every last look into her eyes. Every last feel of her feeble hands.
There is nothing right about death. I can’t say this enough.
Yet in this great loss and separation, Christ comes to lift me from such darkness. “But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.” (Psalm 3:3) And, He reminds me that I was once separated from Him, but no longer am.
Christ came to bring me near, to restore what had been broken, to usher me into fellowship with Himself. Un-ending fellowship and relationship. And, He assures and promises me (and He always keeps His promises) that He will never leave or abandon me (Hebrews 13:6). He will never be overcome by something bigger than Himself. He will always be the sovereign, powerful conqueror. I don’t have to fear Him going away.
Luke 15:31 Jesus says, “’Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.’” It’s Sonship. It’s family. It’s a tie that is not broken. I’m His child. And, as His child, I want to be meek and humble like Christ is (Matthew 11:29), who submitted Himself to the will of God, knowing it would entail great suffering. I want to be fully surrendered to the work He wants to do in my life. And, right now, presently, this is the work He’s about. And, I can trust His hand and His presence will be with me the entire way through this journey.
Sinclair B Ferguson says meekness is “… the humble strength that belongs to the man who has learned to submit to difficulties, knowing that in everything God is working for good.” He then goes on to say,
“We have seen that mercy is God stooping down to man in his weakness and inability, to bring him healing and restoration. He is the Good Samaritan, binding wounds, carrying burdens, and providing for the man who was attacked by robbers (Luke 10:33-35). This is what God does for us in Christ Jesus.”
This morning it hurt to wake. I cried out for Him to carry this burden. And He did. He is continually lifting my head and my heart! And He will never stop doing this. He is redeeming and restoring everything the robbers’ stole. And it’s all been accomplished through His everlasting work on the cross. His saving work is finished, but His ministry to my heart continues. And I will always be thankful for this!
I am not alone.
“Though the fig tree should not blossom,
nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
and there be no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
(Habakkuk 3:16-18)
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Do you believe this?
When a person passes away, there are all sorts of things left over – it’s hard to know where to put them or what to do with them. Like the place she lived. There it stands with all the people inside, all the caregivers and patients, all the food being prepared and served each day. The same beds, activity rooms, wheelchairs. Someone else is now using Mom’s bed and wheelchair.
And then there's her birthday. It was Monday. What do you do when you have a date on the calendar, but the person no longer uses it? There it stands - empty. You know it should have plans all over it – the planning, making of the cake, gathering together, going home tired. But this April 11th was quiet. Reflective. Still.
Amidst all the things that feel so misplaced, immeasurable treasures have been gained. In the darkness of impending death and just after, I couldn’t think about the next day. I couldn’t picture what waking up would look like or what our new normal would be. Everything just hurt.
Paul Tripp says, “Death is the enemy of everything good and beautiful about life as God planned it. Death should make you morally sad and righteously angry. It is a cruel indicator that the world is broken; it is not functioning according to God’s original design… God encourages you to mourn… You will hunger for the completion of all things. You will long to live with the Lord in a place where the last enemy—death—has been defeated.”
Last week, a friend approached me in the church parking lot. She hugged me. She said how sorry she was. And she told me that when her father died, she left the hospital upset, confused, and angry. She said, “I couldn’t understand how people were smiling. I wanted to shout, ‘Aren't you aware of all the pain that exists in this world?’” She went on to affirm how there is nothing right about death. My heart danced for it was understood. I needed to hear how wrong death was. I needed to talk about that. She was a huge blessing to me that morning.
I felt the same way about buying a dress for my Mom’s Memorial Service. I was weighed down by a sense of “a daughter should never have to pick out a dress to wear at her mother’s funeral. Everything about this is wrong.” The cashier splashed a generous smile across his face as he handed me my change and said, “Penny for your thoughts?” I mustered up a mild grin and thought to myself, “Oh, sir, you do not want to hear my thoughts!” I was hurt. Upset. Angry. Feeling such immense loss. I wept the entire way home, with my black dress neatly folded in a little white bag on the passenger seat.
In the days approaching Mom’s death and just after, I clung tightly to Psalm 23. With all my might, I held the promise in verse 4: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me.” I knew that despite the darkness I saw and felt, I was not alone. God had not left me, and He was never going to leave me. And, His care and protection over me would remain my comfort. All I can do is praise the Lord for this promise. He has been so faithful. As He welcomes my tears and collects them all, He comforts me like no other. I do not grieve without hope.
I am sad over the loss of my mother. I am sad that I will never hear her voice (that I actually haven’t heard in years) again. I grieve that I’ll never hold her hands or see those beautiful eyes. I weep at the reality that death will continue to destroy more lives. That I will attend more funerals. But, praise the Lord – all that is within me, praise the Lord that Mom is HOME!
When I was an early teenager, my friends and I prided ourselves in memorizing a verse from the Bible. It was, of course, the shortest verse: John 11:35, “Jesus wept”. Regardless of my motives for memorizing, His Word does not return void and now I delight in this precious story of Lazarus’ death. Jesus joined His friends in their heartfelt sorrow and loss. This shows that there is a reality about the sorrow of death that even Jesus participated in. We do grieve. Jesus did. We do cry. He did as well. And just as He looked forward to the resurrection, so do we.
Paul Tripp says, “As you weep, know this: the One who weeps with you is not content for things to stay as they are. His death was a cry and His resurrection a promise. The living Christ will continue to exert His power and you will grieve no more.”
There is victory. The grave has been conquered. “The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Corinthians 15:26). This has been secured and one day we will see the fullness of this reality.
I have to admit that I was quite anxious about the Memorial Service. The day before, I experienced a great deal of anxiety. I called upon two friends to pray for me. They did and by evening, every weight and concern was lifted.
I have envisioned my Mom’s service since the day of her diagnosis. I know that might sound unusual, but it’s true. A diagnosis of terminal illness just makes you think that way – diagnosis ultimately leads to death. There was no other road to take. It was a long 12 years leading to one destination.
And, for those of you who joined us at the service, you know what a beautiful day it was! In all my visions and expectations, I could have never imagined it to be as wonderful as it was. Above seeing so many people who have walked through this journey with us, and superior to the lovely music and beautiful building, there were three things that impacted me dramatically:
1. Three of Mom’s nurses' assistants came to greet the family. My dad hugged each of them and said through tears, “Thank you! You were the best nurses! You cared for Sharon so well! We will always remember you and be thankful!” Tears freely flowed from our eyes.
2. An outstanding message sincerely delivered from our dear friend and Pastor, Peter Bogert.
3. The restoration of memories as my Dad and Mom’s best friend shared personal reflections. In 12 years of losing Mom, a part of us forgot who she was before Alzheimer’s. God is restoring these memories and it is SO good!!
And, now for the really amazing encouragement! Our Pastor began the message by describing what people often say at a funeral to the family who has lost a loved one. “We’re sorry for your loss. We’re praying for you, etc.” And then he said, “What would Jesus say to a family at a funeral?” He took us to the story of Lazarus.
Jesus told Martha, in the midst of her sorrow and pain, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” She said, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.” (John 11:26-27)
No one said these words to us in the receiving line. Either Christ was insane or He was God. Only He was able to declare that he was the only way to salvation and secure it.
As Peter preached these verses, S and I turned toward each other with wide eyes and tears streaming down our faces. Because the evening of Mom’s death, as I stood over the frame that no longer contained her spirit, all I heard resounding in my spirit was this: “Do you believe this? Do you believe that Jesus has and will secure all that He has promised? Do you believe this reality?” It was one of the most challenging moments of my life. And, I praise the Lord that as Martha did; I was able to shout from my heart, “Yes, Lord; I believe!” Even this is a gift from the Lord!
So, Mom is gone. And often times throughout the day I hear myself say, “Jesus, I’m so glad she’s with you now. I’m so glad you have her. Tell her how much we love her. I know you are caring for her so well!”
I do not grieve without hope. I keep moving forward, trusting His promises, and awaiting the many more memories of Mom He will restore to us. I know He is a redeeming God.
And then there's her birthday. It was Monday. What do you do when you have a date on the calendar, but the person no longer uses it? There it stands - empty. You know it should have plans all over it – the planning, making of the cake, gathering together, going home tired. But this April 11th was quiet. Reflective. Still.
Amidst all the things that feel so misplaced, immeasurable treasures have been gained. In the darkness of impending death and just after, I couldn’t think about the next day. I couldn’t picture what waking up would look like or what our new normal would be. Everything just hurt.
Paul Tripp says, “Death is the enemy of everything good and beautiful about life as God planned it. Death should make you morally sad and righteously angry. It is a cruel indicator that the world is broken; it is not functioning according to God’s original design… God encourages you to mourn… You will hunger for the completion of all things. You will long to live with the Lord in a place where the last enemy—death—has been defeated.”
Last week, a friend approached me in the church parking lot. She hugged me. She said how sorry she was. And she told me that when her father died, she left the hospital upset, confused, and angry. She said, “I couldn’t understand how people were smiling. I wanted to shout, ‘Aren't you aware of all the pain that exists in this world?’” She went on to affirm how there is nothing right about death. My heart danced for it was understood. I needed to hear how wrong death was. I needed to talk about that. She was a huge blessing to me that morning.
I felt the same way about buying a dress for my Mom’s Memorial Service. I was weighed down by a sense of “a daughter should never have to pick out a dress to wear at her mother’s funeral. Everything about this is wrong.” The cashier splashed a generous smile across his face as he handed me my change and said, “Penny for your thoughts?” I mustered up a mild grin and thought to myself, “Oh, sir, you do not want to hear my thoughts!” I was hurt. Upset. Angry. Feeling such immense loss. I wept the entire way home, with my black dress neatly folded in a little white bag on the passenger seat.
In the days approaching Mom’s death and just after, I clung tightly to Psalm 23. With all my might, I held the promise in verse 4: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me.” I knew that despite the darkness I saw and felt, I was not alone. God had not left me, and He was never going to leave me. And, His care and protection over me would remain my comfort. All I can do is praise the Lord for this promise. He has been so faithful. As He welcomes my tears and collects them all, He comforts me like no other. I do not grieve without hope.
I am sad over the loss of my mother. I am sad that I will never hear her voice (that I actually haven’t heard in years) again. I grieve that I’ll never hold her hands or see those beautiful eyes. I weep at the reality that death will continue to destroy more lives. That I will attend more funerals. But, praise the Lord – all that is within me, praise the Lord that Mom is HOME!
When I was an early teenager, my friends and I prided ourselves in memorizing a verse from the Bible. It was, of course, the shortest verse: John 11:35, “Jesus wept”. Regardless of my motives for memorizing, His Word does not return void and now I delight in this precious story of Lazarus’ death. Jesus joined His friends in their heartfelt sorrow and loss. This shows that there is a reality about the sorrow of death that even Jesus participated in. We do grieve. Jesus did. We do cry. He did as well. And just as He looked forward to the resurrection, so do we.
Paul Tripp says, “As you weep, know this: the One who weeps with you is not content for things to stay as they are. His death was a cry and His resurrection a promise. The living Christ will continue to exert His power and you will grieve no more.”
There is victory. The grave has been conquered. “The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Corinthians 15:26). This has been secured and one day we will see the fullness of this reality.
I have to admit that I was quite anxious about the Memorial Service. The day before, I experienced a great deal of anxiety. I called upon two friends to pray for me. They did and by evening, every weight and concern was lifted.
I have envisioned my Mom’s service since the day of her diagnosis. I know that might sound unusual, but it’s true. A diagnosis of terminal illness just makes you think that way – diagnosis ultimately leads to death. There was no other road to take. It was a long 12 years leading to one destination.
And, for those of you who joined us at the service, you know what a beautiful day it was! In all my visions and expectations, I could have never imagined it to be as wonderful as it was. Above seeing so many people who have walked through this journey with us, and superior to the lovely music and beautiful building, there were three things that impacted me dramatically:
1. Three of Mom’s nurses' assistants came to greet the family. My dad hugged each of them and said through tears, “Thank you! You were the best nurses! You cared for Sharon so well! We will always remember you and be thankful!” Tears freely flowed from our eyes.
2. An outstanding message sincerely delivered from our dear friend and Pastor, Peter Bogert.
3. The restoration of memories as my Dad and Mom’s best friend shared personal reflections. In 12 years of losing Mom, a part of us forgot who she was before Alzheimer’s. God is restoring these memories and it is SO good!!
And, now for the really amazing encouragement! Our Pastor began the message by describing what people often say at a funeral to the family who has lost a loved one. “We’re sorry for your loss. We’re praying for you, etc.” And then he said, “What would Jesus say to a family at a funeral?” He took us to the story of Lazarus.
Jesus told Martha, in the midst of her sorrow and pain, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” She said, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.” (John 11:26-27)
No one said these words to us in the receiving line. Either Christ was insane or He was God. Only He was able to declare that he was the only way to salvation and secure it.
As Peter preached these verses, S and I turned toward each other with wide eyes and tears streaming down our faces. Because the evening of Mom’s death, as I stood over the frame that no longer contained her spirit, all I heard resounding in my spirit was this: “Do you believe this? Do you believe that Jesus has and will secure all that He has promised? Do you believe this reality?” It was one of the most challenging moments of my life. And, I praise the Lord that as Martha did; I was able to shout from my heart, “Yes, Lord; I believe!” Even this is a gift from the Lord!
So, Mom is gone. And often times throughout the day I hear myself say, “Jesus, I’m so glad she’s with you now. I’m so glad you have her. Tell her how much we love her. I know you are caring for her so well!”
I do not grieve without hope. I keep moving forward, trusting His promises, and awaiting the many more memories of Mom He will restore to us. I know He is a redeeming God.
Monday, April 4, 2011
The End and Beginning
Psalm 56: 8-- “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book.”
On Wednesday evening, my sister phoned to tell me that Mom was showing more signs that the end was near. And, as we wept together, dreading the final moments, knowing that Mom’s body was uncomfortable, I longed for her Homegoing all the more, for the suffering to cease.
12:55 a.m.
I woke uncomfortably. Just couldn’t find the right position. Wondering why I was up at that hour. And then I knew that I needed to pray for Mom.
God woke my brother up at the very same time. As he walked outside, he asked God to take Mom quickly.
4:41 a.m.
Mom took her final breath as Dad walked through the doors of the nursing home.
7:46 a.m.
As I gathered A and I to head out to see Mom, I listened to a voicemail my Dad left for me at 5:25 a.m. My knees dropped to the living room floor. Sobs spilled out everywhere. My cry extended endlessly like a note carrying over eternal measures.
Dad was unable to talk at the time so I phoned my sister. She confirmed what I knew to be true. I thought I’d be ready to hear it. I had envisioned this moment for years. One can simply never be ready.
Soon we were all at Dad’s house.
The day was a whirlwind of weeping, hugging, remembering, laughing, and resting. Phone calls. More weeping. Almost-sleeping. Keeping on. Smiling. Crying.
Dad was the only one who saw Mom shortly after she passed. We all knew in advance that her body would promptly be transported to the University of Penn for an autopsy. In light of the circumstances and with sincere compassion, the funeral director kindly offered us the gift of a private viewing of Mom that evening.
I wept as we drove to the funeral home, as we walked through the doors, and as we waited to be greeted. I trembled. A woman ushered us into another room, telling us to take as long as we needed, to pull up chairs if we’d like. I looked past her, avoiding eye contact, just wanting to see my Mom. Then, I saw her. Her profile. Her frame. And, I heard my thunderous weeping in the still, quiet room. There she laid, but yet not her.
What I noticed first was her stillness. The final days of her life were so unsettled. Her body’s response to the lack of food often woke her from sleep. But, that night, as her precious, thin frame laid there in that room, it was still, not bound by a broken sinful body anymore. We could not help but reflect on the fact that she looked peaceful, absent and free. My Dad cried out, “She’s not in here any more… she’s FREE! She’s free!” It was undeniable.
We must have spent an hour there, just staring at her and talking. Commenting on her lovely skin, noticing the effects of a long physical battle, reflecting on the smile we had not seen in so long. Her expression reminded us all of days long past. And, something about her laying there made me think of all the times I’d walk into their room in the early morning, to greet her sweet, sleeping face in bed. That’s how she looked to me. It was an hour filled with tears, joy, weeping, sorrow, and thankfulness. We took the opportunity to remember and also reflect on all God did through her in the midst of an awful disease. And of His goodness. And of Mom’s wonderful spirit through it all. Such a gift from the Lord. I’ve never seen the Fruit of the Spirit more present in anyone than in my Mom through Alzheimer’s.
As we stood there, Dad told us about a conversation that I remember well. When we told Mom she had Alzheimer’s for the very first time, she asked Dad, “Will I be okay?” He simply said, “Yes, you will be fine. I will take care of you.” And she was fine with that answer and never asked him again. He kept His promise and she made it a blessing for him to do so. It was the most beautiful picture of trust. We have been blessed as children to watch their story unfold and even to see it come to completion.
It came time to leave the funeral home. I wrestled with it. How could I possibly say goodbye to this face? How could I leave her body lying there? It was anguish. Utter defeat. Misery. To turn my head, yet turn back again, knowing I’d never see her again in this world. Could I stay the night? Was I crazy?
I knew that she was gone, but I just wanted to hang onto that image, to never forget. To hold her one last time. But I knew it was all different now.
There were so many times these past few weeks that I just sat by Mom’s side, staring at her, taking it all in, wanting to comfort her every feeling, her every sense and pain. I wanted to memorize her face, her eyes looking at me. To remember those hands in mine.
I never knew death could be such anguish. I had never imagined how deep the pain would throb and twist. It’s a part of this world that God never intended us to experience. It is crushing. The weight of it all. How I’ve never really grasped what Christ did on the cross for us – taking on all sin and death – taking our place, feeling separation from the Father.
Romans 8:38 assures me that when we are united with Christ in His death and resurrection, we don’t have to experience this separation for eternity. (For those apart from Christ, eternal separation from God does exist – Luke 16:19, Matthew 5, 25, 18, Isaiah 30.) As believers, when our bodies are resurrected, death is ultimately defeated!
1 Corinthians 15:54-57
“Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled:
Death is swallowed up in victory.
O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?
For sin is the sting that results in death, and the law gives sin its power. But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
I must confess, there were times when I felt such confusion. When standing over the lifeless body of my mother, I faced the reality: Do I believe all that I say I do? Do I trust the resurrection of Jesus? And, I wrestled again with the injustice. I almost felt as if the disease had won. After all, she was gone. She died from Alzheimer’s. It took her. Or, did it?
In Matthew 27:46, as Christ hung on the cross in great distress, he quoted Psalm 22:1: “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” He experienced separation from the Father in bearing our sins. But, as the rest of the Psalm indicates and as was His promised resolution, the victory was about to be secured. Deliverance was coming! Only God could take suffering and death and bring victory and redemption! Only Christ in His perfection could stand in our place.
Romans 6:23 says, “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” We deserve death. He offers life.
Romans 5:10 shares that Christ’s death and resurrection is necessary for our salvation. We’re reconciled through His death and life.
Christ knew that the Father would be faithful. And, I know that I can never be separated from His love (Romans 8:38). And, I aspire to be like Abraham, who didn’t waiver in trusting the Lord, who was fully convinced that He would do as He promised.
Christ secures eternal life for all those who trust in Him. I put my whole heart, my entire life, my trembling body in the face of death, my entire trust in Him. And, I am completely confident that there will be no separation. And, there never was for my Mom.
Sweet victory. She is FREE! Praise the Lord – she is FREE!
Jesus lives and so shall I. One day I will also rise and meet Him! What a day that will be!
Today, as spring ushers in and I see new life blooming, I praise the Lord that through death, my Mom now sees LIFE.
You have recorded each one in your book.”
On Wednesday evening, my sister phoned to tell me that Mom was showing more signs that the end was near. And, as we wept together, dreading the final moments, knowing that Mom’s body was uncomfortable, I longed for her Homegoing all the more, for the suffering to cease.
12:55 a.m.
I woke uncomfortably. Just couldn’t find the right position. Wondering why I was up at that hour. And then I knew that I needed to pray for Mom.
God woke my brother up at the very same time. As he walked outside, he asked God to take Mom quickly.
4:41 a.m.
Mom took her final breath as Dad walked through the doors of the nursing home.
7:46 a.m.
As I gathered A and I to head out to see Mom, I listened to a voicemail my Dad left for me at 5:25 a.m. My knees dropped to the living room floor. Sobs spilled out everywhere. My cry extended endlessly like a note carrying over eternal measures.
Dad was unable to talk at the time so I phoned my sister. She confirmed what I knew to be true. I thought I’d be ready to hear it. I had envisioned this moment for years. One can simply never be ready.
Soon we were all at Dad’s house.
The day was a whirlwind of weeping, hugging, remembering, laughing, and resting. Phone calls. More weeping. Almost-sleeping. Keeping on. Smiling. Crying.
Dad was the only one who saw Mom shortly after she passed. We all knew in advance that her body would promptly be transported to the University of Penn for an autopsy. In light of the circumstances and with sincere compassion, the funeral director kindly offered us the gift of a private viewing of Mom that evening.
I wept as we drove to the funeral home, as we walked through the doors, and as we waited to be greeted. I trembled. A woman ushered us into another room, telling us to take as long as we needed, to pull up chairs if we’d like. I looked past her, avoiding eye contact, just wanting to see my Mom. Then, I saw her. Her profile. Her frame. And, I heard my thunderous weeping in the still, quiet room. There she laid, but yet not her.
What I noticed first was her stillness. The final days of her life were so unsettled. Her body’s response to the lack of food often woke her from sleep. But, that night, as her precious, thin frame laid there in that room, it was still, not bound by a broken sinful body anymore. We could not help but reflect on the fact that she looked peaceful, absent and free. My Dad cried out, “She’s not in here any more… she’s FREE! She’s free!” It was undeniable.
We must have spent an hour there, just staring at her and talking. Commenting on her lovely skin, noticing the effects of a long physical battle, reflecting on the smile we had not seen in so long. Her expression reminded us all of days long past. And, something about her laying there made me think of all the times I’d walk into their room in the early morning, to greet her sweet, sleeping face in bed. That’s how she looked to me. It was an hour filled with tears, joy, weeping, sorrow, and thankfulness. We took the opportunity to remember and also reflect on all God did through her in the midst of an awful disease. And of His goodness. And of Mom’s wonderful spirit through it all. Such a gift from the Lord. I’ve never seen the Fruit of the Spirit more present in anyone than in my Mom through Alzheimer’s.
As we stood there, Dad told us about a conversation that I remember well. When we told Mom she had Alzheimer’s for the very first time, she asked Dad, “Will I be okay?” He simply said, “Yes, you will be fine. I will take care of you.” And she was fine with that answer and never asked him again. He kept His promise and she made it a blessing for him to do so. It was the most beautiful picture of trust. We have been blessed as children to watch their story unfold and even to see it come to completion.
It came time to leave the funeral home. I wrestled with it. How could I possibly say goodbye to this face? How could I leave her body lying there? It was anguish. Utter defeat. Misery. To turn my head, yet turn back again, knowing I’d never see her again in this world. Could I stay the night? Was I crazy?
I knew that she was gone, but I just wanted to hang onto that image, to never forget. To hold her one last time. But I knew it was all different now.
There were so many times these past few weeks that I just sat by Mom’s side, staring at her, taking it all in, wanting to comfort her every feeling, her every sense and pain. I wanted to memorize her face, her eyes looking at me. To remember those hands in mine.
I never knew death could be such anguish. I had never imagined how deep the pain would throb and twist. It’s a part of this world that God never intended us to experience. It is crushing. The weight of it all. How I’ve never really grasped what Christ did on the cross for us – taking on all sin and death – taking our place, feeling separation from the Father.
Romans 8:38 assures me that when we are united with Christ in His death and resurrection, we don’t have to experience this separation for eternity. (For those apart from Christ, eternal separation from God does exist – Luke 16:19, Matthew 5, 25, 18, Isaiah 30.) As believers, when our bodies are resurrected, death is ultimately defeated!
1 Corinthians 15:54-57
“Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled:
Death is swallowed up in victory.
O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?
For sin is the sting that results in death, and the law gives sin its power. But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
I must confess, there were times when I felt such confusion. When standing over the lifeless body of my mother, I faced the reality: Do I believe all that I say I do? Do I trust the resurrection of Jesus? And, I wrestled again with the injustice. I almost felt as if the disease had won. After all, she was gone. She died from Alzheimer’s. It took her. Or, did it?
In Matthew 27:46, as Christ hung on the cross in great distress, he quoted Psalm 22:1: “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” He experienced separation from the Father in bearing our sins. But, as the rest of the Psalm indicates and as was His promised resolution, the victory was about to be secured. Deliverance was coming! Only God could take suffering and death and bring victory and redemption! Only Christ in His perfection could stand in our place.
Romans 6:23 says, “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” We deserve death. He offers life.
Romans 5:10 shares that Christ’s death and resurrection is necessary for our salvation. We’re reconciled through His death and life.
Christ knew that the Father would be faithful. And, I know that I can never be separated from His love (Romans 8:38). And, I aspire to be like Abraham, who didn’t waiver in trusting the Lord, who was fully convinced that He would do as He promised.
Christ secures eternal life for all those who trust in Him. I put my whole heart, my entire life, my trembling body in the face of death, my entire trust in Him. And, I am completely confident that there will be no separation. And, there never was for my Mom.
Sweet victory. She is FREE! Praise the Lord – she is FREE!
Jesus lives and so shall I. One day I will also rise and meet Him! What a day that will be!
Today, as spring ushers in and I see new life blooming, I praise the Lord that through death, my Mom now sees LIFE.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
More to this story
Walking down the hallway of my Mom’s home is something I love and hate to do. I love it because my Mom is at the end of it. I hate it for all it represents. My sister and I like to call it “the hallway of tears”, for each step we take brings us closer to my Mom’s reality. It brings us closer to these last days, to our last goodnight.
When my Mom was first diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I remember looking around the doctor’s office, surveying all his credentials. I was so angry with him – not him as an individual—but that his profession should even exist in the first place. That people should even get Alzheimer’s. Even from the beginning of Mom’s disease, there was this “wrongness” about the whole thing.
When I see women nearing their later years, displaying their beautiful crown of white hair, I am reminded that my Mom will never get there. When I admire the sharp minds of older generations, I’m reminded that my Mom’s mind has disappeared and vanished. When I see my Mom lying there, when I touch her frail hands, when I see the slight light left in her eyes, all of my heart shouts, “This is not the way it’s supposed to be!”
A couple nights ago, as I walked down the hallway, I couldn’t help but think that my Mom should never have had to go to bed each night in this place. She should be at home, where she belongs. And, as I entered her room and saw the picture of her mother who also died of Alzheimer’s Disease this past year, I became angry at the disease. I wanted to scream at the injustice.
This sense of injustice reminded me that we are created for so much more than this world.
I’m thankful that in Scripture, death is the last enemy. And, it is only temporary. All that is bad will one day be made right.
There’s a day to come when death will be no more -- when all our pain and suffering will cease. There will be a new reality; a perfect relationship between God and His creation will exist.
Right now, we see the pain. We see Mom’s physical frame decline. We lose more of her each day. But, there is more to her story than this ending.
In the new creation, all things will be made right. The entire progression of the Bible builds to this reality. God is going to redeem and restore everything to what it was meant to be. Right now, we feel the weight and pain and heaviness of this world, but it’s going to change.
There will be a day when we won’t struggle with losing loved ones. When there aren’t people diagnosing Alzheimer’s. When all will be made right.
As a Christian, I believe this reality. My hope is beyond what we see now.
Jesus took on flesh, suffered terribly, and was cut off from God so we might not have to experience that eternally. My great Savior, I thank you for such hope! Such redemption. That I can trust You took my place, the place I deserved on the cross for my sin, and you have secured my salvation. That this is my standing, my hope, my identity, and my security. This what carries me through these final days.
A good friend of our's has a great sermon on this new reality. Feel free to check it out.
Psalm 103:
Let all that I am praise the Lord;
may I never forget the good things he does for me.
3 He forgives all my sins
and heals all my diseases.
4 He redeems me from death
and crowns me with love and tender mercies.
5 He fills my life with good things.
My youth is renewed like the eagle’s!
6 The Lord gives righteousness
and justice to all who are treated unfairly.
7 He revealed his character to Moses
and his deeds to the people of Israel.
8 The Lord is compassionate and merciful,
slow to get angry and filled with unfailing love.
9 He will not constantly accuse us,
nor remain angry forever.
10 He does not punish us for all our sins;
he does not deal harshly with us, as we deserve.
11 For his unfailing love toward those who fear him
is as great as the height of the heavens above the earth.
12 He has removed our sins as far from us
as the east is from the west.
13 The Lord is like a father to his children,
tender and compassionate to those who fear him.
14 For he knows how weak we are;
he remembers we are only dust.
15 Our days on earth are like grass;
like wildflowers, we bloom and die.
16 The wind blows, and we are gone—
as though we had never been here.
17 But the love of the Lord remains forever
with those who fear him.
His salvation extends to the children’s children
18 of those who are faithful to his covenant,
of those who obey his commandments!
19 The Lord has made the heavens his throne;
from there he rules over everything.
20 Praise the Lord, you angels,
you mighty ones who carry out his plans,
listening for each of his commands.
21 Yes, praise the Lord, you armies of angels
who serve him and do his will!
22 Praise the Lord, everything he has created,
everything in all his kingdom.
Let all that I am praise the Lord.
When my Mom was first diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I remember looking around the doctor’s office, surveying all his credentials. I was so angry with him – not him as an individual—but that his profession should even exist in the first place. That people should even get Alzheimer’s. Even from the beginning of Mom’s disease, there was this “wrongness” about the whole thing.
When I see women nearing their later years, displaying their beautiful crown of white hair, I am reminded that my Mom will never get there. When I admire the sharp minds of older generations, I’m reminded that my Mom’s mind has disappeared and vanished. When I see my Mom lying there, when I touch her frail hands, when I see the slight light left in her eyes, all of my heart shouts, “This is not the way it’s supposed to be!”
A couple nights ago, as I walked down the hallway, I couldn’t help but think that my Mom should never have had to go to bed each night in this place. She should be at home, where she belongs. And, as I entered her room and saw the picture of her mother who also died of Alzheimer’s Disease this past year, I became angry at the disease. I wanted to scream at the injustice.
This sense of injustice reminded me that we are created for so much more than this world.
I’m thankful that in Scripture, death is the last enemy. And, it is only temporary. All that is bad will one day be made right.
There’s a day to come when death will be no more -- when all our pain and suffering will cease. There will be a new reality; a perfect relationship between God and His creation will exist.
Right now, we see the pain. We see Mom’s physical frame decline. We lose more of her each day. But, there is more to her story than this ending.
In the new creation, all things will be made right. The entire progression of the Bible builds to this reality. God is going to redeem and restore everything to what it was meant to be. Right now, we feel the weight and pain and heaviness of this world, but it’s going to change.
There will be a day when we won’t struggle with losing loved ones. When there aren’t people diagnosing Alzheimer’s. When all will be made right.
As a Christian, I believe this reality. My hope is beyond what we see now.
Jesus took on flesh, suffered terribly, and was cut off from God so we might not have to experience that eternally. My great Savior, I thank you for such hope! Such redemption. That I can trust You took my place, the place I deserved on the cross for my sin, and you have secured my salvation. That this is my standing, my hope, my identity, and my security. This what carries me through these final days.
A good friend of our's has a great sermon on this new reality. Feel free to check it out.
Psalm 103:
Let all that I am praise the Lord;
may I never forget the good things he does for me.
3 He forgives all my sins
and heals all my diseases.
4 He redeems me from death
and crowns me with love and tender mercies.
5 He fills my life with good things.
My youth is renewed like the eagle’s!
6 The Lord gives righteousness
and justice to all who are treated unfairly.
7 He revealed his character to Moses
and his deeds to the people of Israel.
8 The Lord is compassionate and merciful,
slow to get angry and filled with unfailing love.
9 He will not constantly accuse us,
nor remain angry forever.
10 He does not punish us for all our sins;
he does not deal harshly with us, as we deserve.
11 For his unfailing love toward those who fear him
is as great as the height of the heavens above the earth.
12 He has removed our sins as far from us
as the east is from the west.
13 The Lord is like a father to his children,
tender and compassionate to those who fear him.
14 For he knows how weak we are;
he remembers we are only dust.
15 Our days on earth are like grass;
like wildflowers, we bloom and die.
16 The wind blows, and we are gone—
as though we had never been here.
17 But the love of the Lord remains forever
with those who fear him.
His salvation extends to the children’s children
18 of those who are faithful to his covenant,
of those who obey his commandments!
19 The Lord has made the heavens his throne;
from there he rules over everything.
20 Praise the Lord, you angels,
you mighty ones who carry out his plans,
listening for each of his commands.
21 Yes, praise the Lord, you armies of angels
who serve him and do his will!
22 Praise the Lord, everything he has created,
everything in all his kingdom.
Let all that I am praise the Lord.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Agonizing Love
I used to think that the grieving of twelve years would somehow be enough. That the collection of tears would reach the brim of my jar and then it would be sealed. That somehow I might not feel it all again. But my jar is overflowing now, spilling over the top and onto the floor. I can’t contain my tears no matter how hard I might try.
I am flooded with memories. The other day when my Dad and I were leaving Mom, we heard a familiar voice in one of the neighboring rooms. We peeked in and saw that it was the Director of the first day center Mom went to in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. She remembered us well and we had a good conversation. And, something about that conversation brought it all full circle. I remembered those early stages. My sweet Mom was then so much like my 4-year-old daughter is now. She was childlike, dependent, precious.
I remember when we took Mom to a full-time care facility. It was agonizing. Amazing that love can sometimes be so agonizing – that God have us this capacity to feel and grieve and connect and miss connecting. And, it was His agonizing love on the Cross that brought such freedom. I am not alone in this suffering. I have a great Savior who understands what it means to grieve and break and weep. But, not in despair. With hope and assurance.
When we left Mom for the first evening at the full-time facility, it struck me (quite painfully) that this would be the first time in my parent’s marriage that they would sleep in separate beds. It felt like a canyon had been placed between them. We were only two blocks away, but it felt like she was sleeping on another continent. I remember watching my Dad kiss her goodbye, assuring her he’d see her in the morning. He turned away with a smile, as the tears welled up in his eyes. God gave her such grace. She just smiled, slightly puzzled, but somehow knowing everything would be ok. And, the nurses came in to spend time with her while we headed out the door. It was one of the most difficult nights of my life.
Tonight it hit me that this is more than me going away to college and not seeing her for a few weeks. It’s more than leaving her at the Day Center till work lets out. It’s more than saying, “We’ll see you in the morning.” This is the last time I’ll see my Mom in her earthly form. The last time I’ll touch her skin, see her eyes, watch her head turn toward me.
I can’t do anything but sob.
It hurts beyond measure. But, I do not despair. There is a reality beyond what I see now. There is a future hope, that I realize is completely counter-culture to this world, yet that is absolutely real.
I remember as a child talking to my Dad a lot about Heaven. He taught me so much about the glory of God, what worship may look like in heaven, and about our new bodies. These conversations were always filled with such questions, wonder, and also excitement.
Our reality now is two-fold: My Mom is about to die, and my Mom is about to be restored. Her race is coming to an end, but there is a new beginning.
A couple years ago, our Pastor spent some time preaching on Heaven. These are some things that I remember:
1. Heaven is a real place, involving a re-created heaven and earth. It’s not just a spiritual world.
2. Heaven is a city where the effects of the curse of sin are reversed. It’s a HUGE city where the Glory of God is its light. There is nothing unclean, and there is no presence or consequence of sin. It is stunningly beautiful! (Revelation 21:3-7)
3. In Heaven, life will be lived. We will function in worshipful living. We will work, learn, have relationships, community, responsibility, worship, and we will rule over something. We will experience all that we were created to experience! It will all be restored!
4. Most importantly, heaven is a place where we will enjoy our RELATIONSHIP with God. We will be in His presence and with His people. There will be no more separation or distance with God, but instead total enjoyment and fellowship. WOW. My heart longs for it all the more!
5. Heaven is only for God’s people, for those who are trusting in Christ alone for salvation.
My Mom has lost 18 pounds. She is not eating. They predict she has approximately two weeks at most to live.
And this is what awaits her…
I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.”
And the one sitting on the throne said, “Look, I am making everything new!” And then he said to me, “Write this down, for what I tell you is trustworthy and true.” And he also said, “It is finished! I am the Alpha and the Omega—the Beginning and the End. To all who are thirsty I will give freely from the springs of the water of life. All who are victorious will inherit all these blessings, and I will be their God, and they will be my children.
(Revelation 2:3-7)
I am flooded with memories. The other day when my Dad and I were leaving Mom, we heard a familiar voice in one of the neighboring rooms. We peeked in and saw that it was the Director of the first day center Mom went to in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. She remembered us well and we had a good conversation. And, something about that conversation brought it all full circle. I remembered those early stages. My sweet Mom was then so much like my 4-year-old daughter is now. She was childlike, dependent, precious.
I remember when we took Mom to a full-time care facility. It was agonizing. Amazing that love can sometimes be so agonizing – that God have us this capacity to feel and grieve and connect and miss connecting. And, it was His agonizing love on the Cross that brought such freedom. I am not alone in this suffering. I have a great Savior who understands what it means to grieve and break and weep. But, not in despair. With hope and assurance.
When we left Mom for the first evening at the full-time facility, it struck me (quite painfully) that this would be the first time in my parent’s marriage that they would sleep in separate beds. It felt like a canyon had been placed between them. We were only two blocks away, but it felt like she was sleeping on another continent. I remember watching my Dad kiss her goodbye, assuring her he’d see her in the morning. He turned away with a smile, as the tears welled up in his eyes. God gave her such grace. She just smiled, slightly puzzled, but somehow knowing everything would be ok. And, the nurses came in to spend time with her while we headed out the door. It was one of the most difficult nights of my life.
Tonight it hit me that this is more than me going away to college and not seeing her for a few weeks. It’s more than leaving her at the Day Center till work lets out. It’s more than saying, “We’ll see you in the morning.” This is the last time I’ll see my Mom in her earthly form. The last time I’ll touch her skin, see her eyes, watch her head turn toward me.
I can’t do anything but sob.
It hurts beyond measure. But, I do not despair. There is a reality beyond what I see now. There is a future hope, that I realize is completely counter-culture to this world, yet that is absolutely real.
I remember as a child talking to my Dad a lot about Heaven. He taught me so much about the glory of God, what worship may look like in heaven, and about our new bodies. These conversations were always filled with such questions, wonder, and also excitement.
Our reality now is two-fold: My Mom is about to die, and my Mom is about to be restored. Her race is coming to an end, but there is a new beginning.
A couple years ago, our Pastor spent some time preaching on Heaven. These are some things that I remember:
1. Heaven is a real place, involving a re-created heaven and earth. It’s not just a spiritual world.
2. Heaven is a city where the effects of the curse of sin are reversed. It’s a HUGE city where the Glory of God is its light. There is nothing unclean, and there is no presence or consequence of sin. It is stunningly beautiful! (Revelation 21:3-7)
3. In Heaven, life will be lived. We will function in worshipful living. We will work, learn, have relationships, community, responsibility, worship, and we will rule over something. We will experience all that we were created to experience! It will all be restored!
4. Most importantly, heaven is a place where we will enjoy our RELATIONSHIP with God. We will be in His presence and with His people. There will be no more separation or distance with God, but instead total enjoyment and fellowship. WOW. My heart longs for it all the more!
5. Heaven is only for God’s people, for those who are trusting in Christ alone for salvation.
My Mom has lost 18 pounds. She is not eating. They predict she has approximately two weeks at most to live.
And this is what awaits her…
I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.”
And the one sitting on the throne said, “Look, I am making everything new!” And then he said to me, “Write this down, for what I tell you is trustworthy and true.” And he also said, “It is finished! I am the Alpha and the Omega—the Beginning and the End. To all who are thirsty I will give freely from the springs of the water of life. All who are victorious will inherit all these blessings, and I will be their God, and they will be my children.
(Revelation 2:3-7)
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
What's To Come
We’ve often thought this is how it might end. We’ve heard so many instances of Alzheimer’s patients’ coming down with a bad cold and in the course of it, they forget how to swallow. They stop eating. Mom’s last full meal was on Friday. Since then, she’s had about 8 oz. of a liquid or puree’ each day.
As much as you think you are ready for something like this, especially when it’s tarried so long, you never are. And, as much and often as I pray, “Jesus, take her Home…” I want to continue to see her face, to touch her hands, to see her eyes.
Today she was so thin. She’s lost 10 pounds. Her face is lean. Her movements are diverse and less predictable. She is often extending her arms, as if she’s reaching for something. How I’d love to climb right in and hold each other through this.
We all gathered there today around her. When I look at her, it’s a mixture of emotion. First, it’s the reality of her struggling, of her frailty. Then, I’m flooded with memories – beautiful memories of her.
But, the greatest beauty in all of this all is the marriage of my parents and how deeply they love each other and cling to each other.
When I saw my Dad’s persistence defeated as Mom would not eat, my heart broke. I saw his fear, his concern, and him stepping into the reality of “this could really be it”. The Lord showed such compassion in that moment by helping her swallow about 8 oz. of applesauce. Such grace and kindness to us today! He is a living God! He worked mightily in that moment to strengthen and encourage!
Once my Mom was changed and back in bed, my Dad stroked her cheek so tenderly. Her trembling body settles when he touches her face. She tastes such peace with his hands. He settles her, just like she used to settle us when we were upset. Like she would comb through my hair with her fingers or touch my face gently, and let me lie on her lap till I was settled. I love how our family provides this for each other.
I've never seen love displayed so tenderly and powerfully as when I watch my parents. My Dad extends it freely and my Mom receives it so well. She has always clung to him to tightly and beautifully. I understand why they don't want to let go of each other.
My Mom loves A’s voice. I can talk till I’m blue in the face, sometimes without her opening her eyes, but when she hears A’s voice, she brightens. My sweet girl told Mom how Jesus is always with her, even when we are not. And, how we've been praying for her. And, she proceeded to tell her stories about her favorite instruments and toys, and things she loves to do. It was adorable, and my Mom opened her eyes and listened the entire time A spoke. It was a tremendous blessing! So satisfying!
She also turned slightly toward me as I shared some of my precious memories of her – of cookies and cinnamon rolls and strawberries and shopping. I KNOW she heard me. I felt so content and satisfied having spent the day there with her. How I miss her! How thankful I am for my daughter! I was praying for contentment in my heart this morning and my heart is so content, so blessed.
It’s so odd to have such mixture of emotions. To want someone to be with the Lord so badly so the trembling and hunger and tarrying can cease. But, then wanting to stay in her room for days and weeks just talking to her about everything and anything I can think of – to get all my talking out so that I will never feel like I haven’t said enough or all that I wanted to.
He is my Comforter. I sense His presence so near and see all the more the reality of my future in Him. My hope is secure!
I remember my Mom telling me several times throughout life, when she was having a tough day, “I’m so ready for Heaven!” I can see it in her face now. I know she is ready, and she has nothing at all to fear. She knows the One who is taking her there. She’s ready.
I know that in these years of great suffering for my Mom, He has ministered to her like no other. He has comforted her beyond measure. I sense this comfort now myself. He is a living God! A merciful and gracious God! A redeeming God! A restoring God!
I’ve been reading through John 14 – on the wonderful place He’s prepared for those who have trusted in Christ.
“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. And you know the way to where I am going.”
“No, we don’t know, Lord,” Thomas said. “We have no idea where you are going, so how can we know the way?”
Jesus told him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me. If you had really known me, you would know who my Father is. From now on, you do know him and have seen him!”
Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”
Jesus replied, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and yet you still don’t know who I am? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father! So why are you asking me to show him to you? Don’t you believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words I speak are not my own, but my Father who lives in me does his work through me. Just believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me. Or at least believe because of the work you have seen me do.
“I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father. You can ask for anything in my name, and I will do it, so that the Son can bring glory to the Father. Yes, ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it!
“If you love me, obey my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, who will never leave you. He is the Holy Spirit, who leads into all truth. The world cannot receive him, because it isn’t looking for him and doesn’t recognize him. But you know him, because he lives with you now and later will be in you. No, I will not abandon you as orphans—I will come to you. Soon the world will no longer see me, but you will see me. Since I live, you also will live. When I am raised to life again, you will know that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you. Those who accept my commandments and obey them are the ones who love me. And because they love me, my Father will love them. And I will love them and reveal myself to each of them.”
Judas (not Judas Iscariot, but the other disciple with that name) said to him, “Lord, why are you going to reveal yourself only to us and not to the world at large?”
Jesus replied, “All who love me will do what I say. My Father will love them, and we will come and make our home with each of them. Anyone who doesn’t love me will not obey me. And remember, my words are not my own. What I am telling you is from the Father who sent me. I am telling you these things now while I am still with you. But when the Father sends the Advocate as my representative—that is, the Holy Spirit—he will teach you everything and will remind you of everything I have told you.
“I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you really loved me, you would be happy that I am going to the Father, who is greater than I am. I have told you these things before they happen so that when they do happen, you will believe.
“I don’t have much more time to talk to you, because the ruler of this world approaches. He has no power over me, but I will do what the Father requires of me, so that the world will know that I love the Father. Come, let’s be going."
As much as you think you are ready for something like this, especially when it’s tarried so long, you never are. And, as much and often as I pray, “Jesus, take her Home…” I want to continue to see her face, to touch her hands, to see her eyes.
Today she was so thin. She’s lost 10 pounds. Her face is lean. Her movements are diverse and less predictable. She is often extending her arms, as if she’s reaching for something. How I’d love to climb right in and hold each other through this.
We all gathered there today around her. When I look at her, it’s a mixture of emotion. First, it’s the reality of her struggling, of her frailty. Then, I’m flooded with memories – beautiful memories of her.
But, the greatest beauty in all of this all is the marriage of my parents and how deeply they love each other and cling to each other.
When I saw my Dad’s persistence defeated as Mom would not eat, my heart broke. I saw his fear, his concern, and him stepping into the reality of “this could really be it”. The Lord showed such compassion in that moment by helping her swallow about 8 oz. of applesauce. Such grace and kindness to us today! He is a living God! He worked mightily in that moment to strengthen and encourage!
Once my Mom was changed and back in bed, my Dad stroked her cheek so tenderly. Her trembling body settles when he touches her face. She tastes such peace with his hands. He settles her, just like she used to settle us when we were upset. Like she would comb through my hair with her fingers or touch my face gently, and let me lie on her lap till I was settled. I love how our family provides this for each other.
I've never seen love displayed so tenderly and powerfully as when I watch my parents. My Dad extends it freely and my Mom receives it so well. She has always clung to him to tightly and beautifully. I understand why they don't want to let go of each other.
My Mom loves A’s voice. I can talk till I’m blue in the face, sometimes without her opening her eyes, but when she hears A’s voice, she brightens. My sweet girl told Mom how Jesus is always with her, even when we are not. And, how we've been praying for her. And, she proceeded to tell her stories about her favorite instruments and toys, and things she loves to do. It was adorable, and my Mom opened her eyes and listened the entire time A spoke. It was a tremendous blessing! So satisfying!
She also turned slightly toward me as I shared some of my precious memories of her – of cookies and cinnamon rolls and strawberries and shopping. I KNOW she heard me. I felt so content and satisfied having spent the day there with her. How I miss her! How thankful I am for my daughter! I was praying for contentment in my heart this morning and my heart is so content, so blessed.
It’s so odd to have such mixture of emotions. To want someone to be with the Lord so badly so the trembling and hunger and tarrying can cease. But, then wanting to stay in her room for days and weeks just talking to her about everything and anything I can think of – to get all my talking out so that I will never feel like I haven’t said enough or all that I wanted to.
He is my Comforter. I sense His presence so near and see all the more the reality of my future in Him. My hope is secure!
I remember my Mom telling me several times throughout life, when she was having a tough day, “I’m so ready for Heaven!” I can see it in her face now. I know she is ready, and she has nothing at all to fear. She knows the One who is taking her there. She’s ready.
I know that in these years of great suffering for my Mom, He has ministered to her like no other. He has comforted her beyond measure. I sense this comfort now myself. He is a living God! A merciful and gracious God! A redeeming God! A restoring God!
I’ve been reading through John 14 – on the wonderful place He’s prepared for those who have trusted in Christ.
“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. And you know the way to where I am going.”
“No, we don’t know, Lord,” Thomas said. “We have no idea where you are going, so how can we know the way?”
Jesus told him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me. If you had really known me, you would know who my Father is. From now on, you do know him and have seen him!”
Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”
Jesus replied, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and yet you still don’t know who I am? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father! So why are you asking me to show him to you? Don’t you believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words I speak are not my own, but my Father who lives in me does his work through me. Just believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me. Or at least believe because of the work you have seen me do.
“I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father. You can ask for anything in my name, and I will do it, so that the Son can bring glory to the Father. Yes, ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it!
“If you love me, obey my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, who will never leave you. He is the Holy Spirit, who leads into all truth. The world cannot receive him, because it isn’t looking for him and doesn’t recognize him. But you know him, because he lives with you now and later will be in you. No, I will not abandon you as orphans—I will come to you. Soon the world will no longer see me, but you will see me. Since I live, you also will live. When I am raised to life again, you will know that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you. Those who accept my commandments and obey them are the ones who love me. And because they love me, my Father will love them. And I will love them and reveal myself to each of them.”
Judas (not Judas Iscariot, but the other disciple with that name) said to him, “Lord, why are you going to reveal yourself only to us and not to the world at large?”
Jesus replied, “All who love me will do what I say. My Father will love them, and we will come and make our home with each of them. Anyone who doesn’t love me will not obey me. And remember, my words are not my own. What I am telling you is from the Father who sent me. I am telling you these things now while I am still with you. But when the Father sends the Advocate as my representative—that is, the Holy Spirit—he will teach you everything and will remind you of everything I have told you.
“I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you really loved me, you would be happy that I am going to the Father, who is greater than I am. I have told you these things before they happen so that when they do happen, you will believe.
“I don’t have much more time to talk to you, because the ruler of this world approaches. He has no power over me, but I will do what the Father requires of me, so that the world will know that I love the Father. Come, let’s be going."
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Coming Clean
We all have things we don’t like to clean up after. Our desks. Dirty dishes. Laundry. The car. Emotional messes or consequences from careless words. Cleaning up, in any sense of the concept, is hard work.
As a mother of a preschooler, one of my least-favorite messes to clean up is the “I was too busy playing to stop and go potty” messes’ that my daughter sometimes likes to share with me. How easy it is to allow frustration and irritation to build in these moments, wishing that this would never happen, or if it must, just one last time.
But, we aren’t like that, are we? Our sin isn’t like that. We’re dirty, messy, and often weary.
Paul Miller, in his book A Praying Life, says,
“Jesus didn’t come for the righteous. He came for sinners. All of us qualify. The very things we try to get rid of – our weariness, our distractedness, our messiness – are all what get us in the front door! That’s how the Gospel works… In bringing yourself to Jesus, you give Him the opportunity to work on the real you… God would much rather deal with the real thing. Jesus said He came for sinners, for messed-up people who keep messing up (Luke 15:1-2). Come dirty!” (33-34)
This truth encouraged me greatly the other day. I could hardly wait for my daughter to wake up, so that I could share with her how the Lord was admonishing me! When she woke, I embraced her tenderly and enthusiastically and said, “Honey, no matter how many times you get dirty, I will always be here to help you clean up. And, the same is true with Jesus and your sin! You can come to Him with a dirty heart, full of sin, and He will clean you as you trust in His work on the cross!” She seemed encouraged and consequently had a much better day – we both did, keeping this bigger picture in perspective.
This leads me to recall the priests’ regular sacrifices prior to Christ’s finished work on the cross. Never sufficient in reaching the hearts of the people, the sacrifices were merely an outward symbol for cleansing. Their attempts were done repeatedly yet never fully atoned for sin. But, Christ, in His great work of salvation on the cross, has atoned for sin once for all!
Our Great High Priest, who sympathizes with our weaknesses (Hebrews 4:15), who offers grace and mercy (Hebrews 4:16), is all-sufficient! He offered Himself once for all so that there is no need to do it again – no need for Atonement Day each year. His Work is completely done. And, He is able to save us forever because He ministers before the Father forever. He has the power to hold and keep us, despite our on-going failings. He remembers our sin no more. This is true and eternal forgiveness. The barrier has been torn, and we can now boldly come.
This should encourage us! Despite our on-going failings, because of Christ’s Work on the cross, I am extended continual grace and mercy. This is the same grace and mercy I want to grasp in light of my own sin, and also extend to others, even when it’s messy.
We’ve been reading a book with our daughter recently, and it has become one of her favorites. It is called The Priest with Dirty Clothes (http://www.ligonier.org/store/the-priest-with-dirty-clothes-hardcover/) by R.C. Sproul. It’s about a priest who can’t approach the King because His clothes are ruined. After trying every possible means and failing, the priest visits the Great Prince, his only possible hope to stand before the King. It’s a great story of Christ’s righteousness standing in our place before God, and I highly recommend it to every family!
So, if you’re a believer in Christ, be encouraged – He has declared you righteous! And, all the cleaning-up you think you have yet to do, and even get discouraged by, be assured that He’s already done it for you. It’s completely done! We can come to Him, just as we are, and know that our standing is secure.
“But God demonstrates His love for us in this: while we were sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)
As a mother of a preschooler, one of my least-favorite messes to clean up is the “I was too busy playing to stop and go potty” messes’ that my daughter sometimes likes to share with me. How easy it is to allow frustration and irritation to build in these moments, wishing that this would never happen, or if it must, just one last time.
But, we aren’t like that, are we? Our sin isn’t like that. We’re dirty, messy, and often weary.
Paul Miller, in his book A Praying Life, says,
“Jesus didn’t come for the righteous. He came for sinners. All of us qualify. The very things we try to get rid of – our weariness, our distractedness, our messiness – are all what get us in the front door! That’s how the Gospel works… In bringing yourself to Jesus, you give Him the opportunity to work on the real you… God would much rather deal with the real thing. Jesus said He came for sinners, for messed-up people who keep messing up (Luke 15:1-2). Come dirty!” (33-34)
This truth encouraged me greatly the other day. I could hardly wait for my daughter to wake up, so that I could share with her how the Lord was admonishing me! When she woke, I embraced her tenderly and enthusiastically and said, “Honey, no matter how many times you get dirty, I will always be here to help you clean up. And, the same is true with Jesus and your sin! You can come to Him with a dirty heart, full of sin, and He will clean you as you trust in His work on the cross!” She seemed encouraged and consequently had a much better day – we both did, keeping this bigger picture in perspective.
This leads me to recall the priests’ regular sacrifices prior to Christ’s finished work on the cross. Never sufficient in reaching the hearts of the people, the sacrifices were merely an outward symbol for cleansing. Their attempts were done repeatedly yet never fully atoned for sin. But, Christ, in His great work of salvation on the cross, has atoned for sin once for all!
Our Great High Priest, who sympathizes with our weaknesses (Hebrews 4:15), who offers grace and mercy (Hebrews 4:16), is all-sufficient! He offered Himself once for all so that there is no need to do it again – no need for Atonement Day each year. His Work is completely done. And, He is able to save us forever because He ministers before the Father forever. He has the power to hold and keep us, despite our on-going failings. He remembers our sin no more. This is true and eternal forgiveness. The barrier has been torn, and we can now boldly come.
This should encourage us! Despite our on-going failings, because of Christ’s Work on the cross, I am extended continual grace and mercy. This is the same grace and mercy I want to grasp in light of my own sin, and also extend to others, even when it’s messy.
We’ve been reading a book with our daughter recently, and it has become one of her favorites. It is called The Priest with Dirty Clothes (http://www.ligonier.org/store/the-priest-with-dirty-clothes-hardcover/) by R.C. Sproul. It’s about a priest who can’t approach the King because His clothes are ruined. After trying every possible means and failing, the priest visits the Great Prince, his only possible hope to stand before the King. It’s a great story of Christ’s righteousness standing in our place before God, and I highly recommend it to every family!
So, if you’re a believer in Christ, be encouraged – He has declared you righteous! And, all the cleaning-up you think you have yet to do, and even get discouraged by, be assured that He’s already done it for you. It’s completely done! We can come to Him, just as we are, and know that our standing is secure.
“But God demonstrates His love for us in this: while we were sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)
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