And the evening of the third day . . .


Day 3 pm – April 3, 2012

Day three of watching my Mother die. I hate writing or saying that – “Watching my Mother die.” It’s foul; it’s like cussing in front of mom and dad when I was a child. It’s foreign. Shall I instead write or say, “Watching my Mother suffer?” No, that wouldn’t be concise because it’s not day three of watching my Mother suffer – it’s not even year three. It’s way beyond that. But why am I so very sad and so very down when, as a Christian, I should be focusing instead on “Watching  my Mother prepare to leave my arms for the arms of Jesus.” I have found the joy in that concept many times in the last days and weeks, but right now I can’t help but be sad because I truly am “watching my Mother die.” Nevertheless, as a Christian, I know Jesus understands how sad I feel because He was sad, too, when he received the message that his dear friend, Lazarus had died. (John 11). Jesus saw the sisters, Mary and Martha crying, and he saw the other friends weeping, and he was deeply moved in spirit and he was troubled. Then Jesus wept. Seeing Jesus weep, the others observed, “My how Jesus must have loved him!”

And seeing me weep, I can imagine Jesus observing, “My how she loves her mother.” Then I can see Jesus doing for Mom what He did for Lazarus – saying, “Margie, come forth!” And Margie will step right into the arms of Jesus.

Remembering my Savior’s love and compassion – and remembering His great power of resurrection, I can once again change my focus from “watching my mother die” or “watching my mother suffer” to “watching my mother prepare to leave my arms for the arms of Jesus. His grace is sufficient.