Anyone who visited my mom knew the familiar sight of her sitting in her rocker recliner. As her health deteriorated over the last several years, her time in her chair increased. She became almost wheelchair bound and rarely left her recliner. She slept in it. She ate meals in it. She welcomed people into her home from it. She held her grandbabies for the first time in it.
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| Mom meeting Justus |
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| Mom meeting Levi |
Last year, my family and I spent a total of almost two months at my mom's house spread over three trips (only two trips were planned, which would have totaled two weeks). Most of those weeks were without my mom present because she was in the hospital. It was strange to walk into her house without her smiling face beaming at us from that chair. The chair sat empty the entire time we were there. Not one of us sat in it. Not even my boys, who are four and two, ventured into it, and no one told them not to. It was like an unspoken rule. Everyone understood that it was her chair.
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When my family and I made our biannual trip to visit my mom last June, deep down I thought it might be one of our last visits. The Lord put it in my heart to ask my sister and her husband to join us during that time because my mom loved when both her girls were there at the same time and I sensed an urgency that we all be together. After our week visit, my family and I returned to New Jersey, only to take a next-day flight back to Missouri a week later because my mom was severely ill in the hospital with pancreatitis.
She was unable to keep down food and medicine for weeks and the doctors saw no hope for recovery, so they sent her home on hospice. She wasn't even home for 24 hours before she was eating and drinking and keeping down meds and in her right mind. The Lord touched her body and, besides being weak, she seemed like herself.
During that time, many of our relatives came in from all over to see her in what we thought were her last days. They came prepared for a funeral, but instead were able to visit with her like old times. Looking back, I can see what a gift this was to my mom. She loved having people in her home. No matter when you came or how long you stayed, you were always welcomed at my mom's house. She would receive you with open arms and a smiling face, and, as much as she was able, she would go out of her way to accommodate you.
As it became apparent that my mom was on the mend and no longer dying, we took her off hospice and arranged for her to go to a rehab facility to strengthen her very weak body. It felt as if God had given her back to us. Little did we know that it was only temporary.
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| June 2021 |
My mom was well acquainted with suffering and had suffered many health afflictions over the years. Yet, even through all the pain and the loneliness and limitations, my mom did not turn away from God or question the lot He gave her. She did get weary of hospitals and doctor's visits and she did wonder why God kept her around, but her faith in God never wavered. Since 2015, my mom has had at least one health crisis per year that we weren't sure she would pull out of. In 2021, she had two. Her infirmities seemed to increase in intensity and complexity each year.
Now her health battles are over. My mom went to be the Lord on Monday, November 29, 2021. She contracted Covid in the rehab facility where she was staying and never recovered. It's hard to believe this was the health crisis to end them all.
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Now we are all reeling from this sudden loss. For me, the effects seem cumulative. It's not just losing my mom, but losing my dad and the home where I grew up. It's the realization that I no longer have parents or grandparents - people who have gone before me. It's a heavy blow.
In the midst of the grief and pain, however, there is relief and joy. My mom is no longer suffering. She is now free from her crippled body of almost 40 years. She doesn't have to face the reality of no longer being able to live by herself and she doesn't have to live in a long-term facility (something neither she nor we wanted). She doesn't have to endure isolation and loneliness - something I scarcely let myself think about before. She is healed in every way, and I no longer have to worry about her (and, oh, how much of my thoughts and prayers went towards her).
Honestly, this has been really hard and some days I really struggle with this hard providence. I have to be careful, though, and guard my thoughts. It's easy for me to start questioning God's wisdom and character. But I know whom I have believed and I must trust Him over what I feel or what my circumstances tell me. It's hard to see how God could possibly work good out of my mom's suffering or out of all the hard things my family and I have faced last year. But, as the old hymn says, "Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust Him for His grace. Behind a frowning providence, there hides a smiling Face." My vision is limited. I do not see all that the Lord is doing. One day, I will. Maybe not even in this life time, but one day, I will see that God had been up to something good all along, even in all of the pain. That's what I cling to as I grieve with hope (1 Thess. 4:13).
