Mixed emotions
It’s been a week of sorrows, tears, laughter, joy and hope for me this week. Some of you know so very well that when you start to cram all of those emotions into one week it can leave you exhausted even though it is only Wednesday. That’s been my week thus far as we’ve had my mom in and out of the hospital. There were a couple rough nights at home with dad and so we were back to the hospital again. We finally got mom admitted to hospice and now we wait by her bed as we watch her slowly slip away and die. The hospice people are truly amazing folks and have suggested that it should only be a couple of days before mom enters the church triumphant. I picked my sister up from the airport this morning as she flew in from Boston. We are all thankful that just a little over a week ago we all got to spend some time together up in New York. Mom was surrounded by dad, her kids and grandkids and that is always when she was the happiest. (I’ve suggested to my sister that mom was happiest when I was around, my sister Beth said mom acted that way simply because she felt sorry for me)
Certainly we will all miss mom and grandma and so we have shed our tears, but we have also laughed and laughed hard as we remember stories and the little annoying things about my mom that made her who she is. The grandchildren have no idea how tough and hard nose mom could be. They know her as the one who always had something fun planned, as grandma who was there to comfort or give them whatever they want. My sister and I remember a mom who loved us for sure, but who was tough and “you’d better be throwing up (more than once) if you think you’re going to miss school.”
I’ve learned this week that faith in Jesus gets really real when you start standing around the bed of someone you love and you’re watching them die. I’ve certainly been with many families over my years in ministry gathered around the bed of their loved ones. In many of those instances those were people who I cared very deeply about. Faith was real then, but there is something about standing over the bed of your own mother that hits home. I was thankful for the hospice chaplain who came in today and prayed with and for us. But in my prayer I was also thankful for my mother who was a deep person of faith. I was thankful that she shared that faith with me and raised me to try and place my trust and hope in Christ. My mother raised us up in the church from an early age. Sunday school, worship, choir and confirmation, and with that at least a small piece of faith became internalized. Oh, I often have doubts and I have many questions for Jesus. But as I held my mom’s hand last night, as I kissed her forehead I did so knowing I would miss her, but because of mom and her faithfulness in passing on the faith to her children, I also held her hand and kissed her forehead with the confidence that this was not the last time. We’ll be together again one day. I’m holding on to that faith in Jesus ever so tightly this week.
And so for the rest of the week and I’m sure in the weeks ahead, you may find me crying, you may find me laughing, but through tears of sorrow and tears of laughter, I’m going to hold on as best I can to hope in Jesus.
