everything that's on my mind
(as if there's not already enough people doing this)Friday, March 03, 2006
The ultimate healing
I write with a heavy heart tonight. Over the last couple of weeks, I have talked with my mom several times as she was keeping my up to date on my Aunt Linda, her only sister. My aunt has battled with cancer for several years now. At times there has been good news, at times there has been bad news. My mom had first called me last week to let us know that Aunt Linda was in the hospital. She was then released later in the week, but returned on the weekend. Once again, it appeared, her health had taken a turn for the worse.
When my mom had called me on Monday during my lunch hour, I was driving in West Little Rock on my way to grab something to eat and return to work. Her first words were that Aunt Linda was dying. I found it difficult to understand some of what she was saying because she was crying as she described her condition. She then talked about how they had enjoyed a weekend together in Branson just a few weeks earlier, and how it didn't seem possible this was happening. The call was brief. She called only to inform me and solicit more prayers. After she said goodbye, I pulled into a parking lot, parked, and wept - for my aunt, my uncle, my cousins, and my mom.
Two days later, on Wednesday - again during my lunch hour - she called me at work to let me know that my Aunt Linda had died.
Whenever she would update me with news about my aunt's health, the thing that my mom always seemed to marvel at the most was how Aunt Linda was managing everything that was given her during her illness. She usually said aunt Linda was positive, in good spirits, and seemed willing to accept whatever might come her way, no matter what it was. At her funeral today, my brother described her as "joyful." Her joy was not in the things of this world, but in the One who would bring her into the next. A few passages from her journal were read, indicating just that. Her faith was not in her health, but in the Healer. He would take away the illness in time. How He would do it, she didn't know, but still she trusted Him.
I am reminded of one of my favorite songs by Wayne Watson, the title track of his 1990 disc Home Free. In the song, Watson says, "Good people underneath the sea of grief, some get up and walk away, some will find ultimate relief," and in the chorus, "Home Free, eventually, at the ultimate healing we will be Home Free." On Wednesday, my aunt was finally healed. We may have preferred a different kind of healing - one that would have kept her in our presence a little longer. Instead, her healing has now placed her in His presence. In her illness and death, she has reminded us all that our joy is not dependant on our circumstances here, but in He who will one day heal us all. While we lament the loss of her physical presence here, we are reminded of the home that she now has, and that we will have as well when that day comes.
When my mom had called me on Monday during my lunch hour, I was driving in West Little Rock on my way to grab something to eat and return to work. Her first words were that Aunt Linda was dying. I found it difficult to understand some of what she was saying because she was crying as she described her condition. She then talked about how they had enjoyed a weekend together in Branson just a few weeks earlier, and how it didn't seem possible this was happening. The call was brief. She called only to inform me and solicit more prayers. After she said goodbye, I pulled into a parking lot, parked, and wept - for my aunt, my uncle, my cousins, and my mom.
Two days later, on Wednesday - again during my lunch hour - she called me at work to let me know that my Aunt Linda had died.
Whenever she would update me with news about my aunt's health, the thing that my mom always seemed to marvel at the most was how Aunt Linda was managing everything that was given her during her illness. She usually said aunt Linda was positive, in good spirits, and seemed willing to accept whatever might come her way, no matter what it was. At her funeral today, my brother described her as "joyful." Her joy was not in the things of this world, but in the One who would bring her into the next. A few passages from her journal were read, indicating just that. Her faith was not in her health, but in the Healer. He would take away the illness in time. How He would do it, she didn't know, but still she trusted Him.
I am reminded of one of my favorite songs by Wayne Watson, the title track of his 1990 disc Home Free. In the song, Watson says, "Good people underneath the sea of grief, some get up and walk away, some will find ultimate relief," and in the chorus, "Home Free, eventually, at the ultimate healing we will be Home Free." On Wednesday, my aunt was finally healed. We may have preferred a different kind of healing - one that would have kept her in our presence a little longer. Instead, her healing has now placed her in His presence. In her illness and death, she has reminded us all that our joy is not dependant on our circumstances here, but in He who will one day heal us all. While we lament the loss of her physical presence here, we are reminded of the home that she now has, and that we will have as well when that day comes.
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