Each One of Us will be in This Place Someday

Dear friends of ours in another city recently experienced the loss of her mother. I’ve copied part of their email here in this blog post to remind us all that we each will one day face this situation. This story touched me – not only because of the tenderness between Lisa and her mom, but also because of their faith in Christ. Nearly all of what we do on this earth is meaningless – that’s one of the core messages of the book of Ecclesiastes. But how and why we do what we do will matter a great deal in eternity. If you’ve never accepted Christ as your Lord and Savior, I invite you to contact me to learn more how you can know Him personally and be assured of your eternal life.

Here is part of their email to us:

“It was a crazy week last week with Natalie’s high school graduation and then Lisa’s mom.   She went into the hospital on Friday, May 11, suffering with severe pain in her legs.  After a couple days of tests, they discovered a number of blood clots in both legs that blocked the circulation.   Long story short, she had one surgery to remove the clots, but after a week in the hospital she was extremely weak, the blood clots were returning to her legs and she was starting to have other complications.  It got to the point where a foot or leg amputation would be required in order to save her life.  She was still lucid enough to tell Lisa and her brother/sister that she didn’t want any further treatment but instead was ready to “go home”.   She also wanted Lisa to be at our home, celebrating Natalie’s graduation.    They put her into hospice care on Friday, May 18.    Lisa was OK staying away as she was able to talk to her mom some during the hospital stay. But she was really worried that her mom would try to hang on in the midst of terrible suffering until we could get [back to her mother] early this week.  Our prayer was that [Lisa’s mom] would not suffer and would not linger on.  What an answer to prayer Lisa got!  On Sunday morning when we first got up, Lisa felt a strong need to call the hospice.  The nurse told her that her mom was failing pretty fast and couldn’t talk but could still hear.    They held a phone up to her mom’s ear and Lisa was able to tell her all about Natalie’s graduation, to thank her for being a great mom and to tell her how much we all loved her.  As Lisa was finishing talking the nurse came back on the line and told her that her mom passed away while Lisa was talking to her.   The nurse believed her mom was holding on until she got to talk to Lisa one last time.  That was a huge answer to prayer and a huge comfort to Lisa – that her mom wasn’t suffering anymore. Her mom lived a long (92 years) full life and was in remarkably good health right up until the end…”

 

Bill English, CEO
Mindsharp

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One thought on “Each One of Us will be in This Place Someday”

  1. My mom was 93 when she passed away after a slow decline as her brain started “forgetting” how to process vital information, like how to swallow and how to choose the right words. She basically just lost the desire to eat or drink, but remained surprisingly lucid despite the difficulty communicating. We knew she was still in there somewhere, but the things she was saying started making less sense. She kept her eyes closed most of the time in a kind of blissful reverie.

    One evening as we started to leave the nursing home, we said “we’re leaving now” and she started shaking her head saying something like “I think I’m going to sleep.”. We said, “ok” and left. In retrospect, I think she was trying to say she thought she was drifting into the “long sleep”, but couldn’t remember the word for “dying”. It just didn’t occur to us at the time. Thankfully, she didn’t pass that night, but there were so many other things that just didn’t occur to us at the time because our minds were so overshadowed by the impending grief. But for her, as I think back, it was not a time of suffering or grief. In spite of the physical pain and discomfort she was experiencing in her body, there was the distinct awareness that her inner experience was blissful and far beyond all of this, and that there was something much bigger going on that we couldn’t understand.

    When she finally did pass away, I was holding her hand. She suddenly pulled it away and I watched in silence as she frowned and squirmed like a baby trying to get out of uncomfortable clothes. It was as if she were trying to throw off a jacket without using her hands. After a few seconds, every muscle in her face just relaxed; even the tiny muscles around her eyes. I knew something was happening, but even then I couldn’t get my mind around it. Now I’m convinced that was the moment of departure, but it took another couple of hours for all of her bodily functions to stop.

    I believe we should teach our children more about the process of dying. We were so ignorant about the process, and wasted a lot of precious moments just because we didn’t know what to expect.

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