"Too many of us (dads and kids) take mothers for granted -- not in a careless or callous way, but rather like how we treat sunrises: Even though their beauty is majestic and inspiring, their steady and sure constancy is so comforting that to remark upon it daily seems to cheapen it," says Dana Kelley. An occasional emphasis, however, brings the value of the gift to mind each time it is observed.
Last week I observed a gift I crave for everyone regardless of gender or parental status. I arrived at the hospital just in time to hear whispered, a woman's children had made the decision to remove her from life support only minutes earlier. These decisions are among life's most difficult.
"Are you a singer?" I was asked.
"I like to sing, but I would not say I am a singer," I replied.
"Would you sing with us?" one of her sisters said.
As three of the patient's sisters and I sang "What a Day" encircling her bed, she responded with facial features and body movements indicating she was trying to sing along as she had with them for so many decades.
Her children, grandchildren, and their spouses gathered around her bed after the IVs and the ventilator were removed. They filled the room. They held her hand. They told her how much they loved her. They recounted how she had blessed them and been the best mother ever. They were willing to let her go, as very, very difficult as it is, because they knew where she was going.
"You're going to heaven Mama. You'll be with (her husband, daughter, and other family members previously deceased)," they told her.
The descriptions of joyous reunion came through their own sobs and tears. This is not the Mother's Day celebration most people envision, but it was a witness to the faith and love she had shared with them and taught them to embrace as their own.
I remembered how very different this dying moment was from a funeral I had been at years before. As a woman's relative approached the casket at her funeral's end she nearly collapsed in grief or remorse. She refused to be seated. Insistent on standing before the open casket, she was assisted with a person on each arm and a sturdy man behind in case she swooned once more. I have never witnessed a more gut-wrenching, soul-curdling lament and wail than in that moment. It is one of the most horrible funeral experiences of my life. Hopelessness, despair, and darkness tangibly filled the atmosphere. Faith in Christ, hope, and the expectation of continuing life in the glory described on the pages of the book of Revelation, last week formed a distinct and preferred contrast to that of the fear and hopelessness of yesteryear.
"We want you to know what will happen to the believers who have died so you will not grieve like people who have no hope," the Apostle Paul wrote. There is sadness and often weariness when the sun sets after a fabulous day. The expectation of a soon coming sunrise and another great day in the future mitigates the unhappiness, however.
What a great gift that mother imparted by word and action to her family. What a blessing to see and experience faith in Christ and His love fill her hospital room as she transitioned from this life to life everlasting with Jesus.
-- Dr. Randy Rowlan is pastor of First United Methodist Church. Comments are welcomed at [email protected]. The opinions expressed are those of the author.
Religion on 05/18/2016