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.