We have been swimming it it... death. It has overwhelmed our church, my husband. Even my six year old is talking about it. That part is ok, we need to talk about death, it is a part of our life after all. I was just a few weeks shy of six years old when my maternal grandfather died, and I couldn't grasp it. I remember sitting on the couch with my sisters and my parents standing in front of us telling us that grampa had died. And I asked, "Is he coming back?" I remember it as clear as if it happened yesterday. I couldn't process a life ending. Of course as we get older we understand that life ends...everything on this earth has an ending. We can thank our greatest grandparents for that. Physical death is an experience no one can escape. So there it is, in front of us but we don't want to dwell on it. It must be the uncertainty of it, the alone-ness, the unknowing of what's behind the veil. Even for Christians, trusting God does not mean peace with death. It is hard to think of saying good-bye... cutting ties to this rock.
My son asked me why we have to go to heaven when we die.....
He doesn't want to die...
For him, heaven is scary, it is not home, we are not there with him...
Big thoughts for a little boy.
It provides me a window into his heart though, and if I'm going to be transparent here, I had the same fears when I was six... and 16... and 26... geez... even at 38 I still tense up at the thought of "what if?" and my man and babies are left with out me. I weep when I read or hear of a mommy with littles and shes's losing her battle, or has been abruptly taken without warning. It rips me.
Small thoughts coming from someone who believes in a big God.
And yet, still it is there. Like that piece of lint, or hair, or bug or 'what on earth is that?' stuck in the corner of the floor half under the baseboard and your vacuum just can't quite get it. You don't even really see it until you are forced to confront it because you're having company over and god forbid they see the real you... messy... vulnerable... broken.
Like I said, our church has been overwhelmed with death. Something like seven funerals happened in a span of six months.. exhausting. Not even people that were active members, but they were connected to the families in our in our little community. Then last month my gramma passed away. After two years of giving up on her life her body finally gave in. And then we have a lady from our church that is on the precipice of her death. She is standing on the edge of an endless canyon. (but really, aren't we all?) Only, she knows it is just a step and she knows it is coming for her in a matter of months. Multiple myloma will do that. It is actively stealing her life away but it isn't stealing her light. If anything, the absconding of her life has only intensified her light. She is a beautiful woman, a mother, grandmother, sister, auntie, friend. She is loved by so many and she has been blessed with a deep care for all. It pains her to not be able to physically be present with her church community. She feels she is letting us down.
She has become deeply contemplative in these days, death will do that I guess. She is lamenting her failures as a mom, as a child of Christ. you can see the strong fragility in her turmoil. Like a birch tree being pushed around by the wind. It sways and bends but then almost seems to push back at the gust.
"I trust that my God is bigger than my regrets!" it seems to shout at the wind
She weeps for her mistakes but she knows God has it all. That we all have our own personal torture chambers. Some of us visit them more frequently than others, some of us never leave them. And some of us have learned to use the key God has given us to lock it up and set it to never be opened again. Blessed are those who do not linger in the trap of regret.
We know that it is our lives, our sins, our hurts, our joys, our triumphs and failures that have shaped us to who we are, and if we are in Christ then those things are shaping us to be even more like Him.
I visited my gramma two years ago and I saw despair, hopelessness, depression
I visited our friend last week and was bathed in grace, hope, tears, laughter
how do we die?
