Don't Say It...Even If I Am

It is incredible to me how strong the desire to live is inside each of us; that even when we know that HEAVEN is what waits for us on “the other side” there is still often a reluctance to let go and just go, to move from life here on earth to life in Heaven.  I don’t quite understand it and I don’t know that I really realized how strong this will to live was, to keep on going, until a couple days ago when I went to visit my mom.

I see this in her.  My mom is dying.  We really cannot deny it. I am sure she knows it too as her body is slowly emaciated by pain, by the tumor, by the effects of death.  Yet the other day, the idea that others would say she is dying made her angry.  It was as if she could keep it from happening as long as it wasn’t said or like the person saying it is giving up hope, losing faith, by saying it, “Don’t say it…even if I am” were the words she spoke.

I can’t help but wonder: have we given up hope?  Have I given up hope?  By accepting what is inevitable, what I can see happening in front of me, am I losing faith?  Am I not trusting or believing in miracles?  Or am I accepting that sometimes the miracles simply don’t happen when we are here on this earth?  I have had moments when I have felt guilty over the last couple months as I have prayed, not for her to be healed here on earth, but for God to end her suffering and restore her body by taking her home quickly.  I have felt guilty praying this way because I know we are told to pray for healing, believing that He will do it, and He will….and so often we think that means He’ll do it here on earth.  I am not denying that He does choose to do that sometimes….but I wrestle with this.

I wrestle with this not because I don’t believe God can heal her but because I don’t want to pray believing He’s going to work in a specified way.  So often I hear people pray “God, if it is your will, please heal this person…but if it is not, please take them home to you quickly” and I just want to yell “It IS His will to heal them….here or in heaven….either way they are healed!! DON’T YOU GET IT??”  How can I pray for a person who is suffering from a horrible disease for which there is little hope of recovery here on earth, how can I pray for them to experience a complete physical recovery here on earth when I know they are Heaven bound?  Isn’t that rather selfish of me?  Why do I want them to be healed here on earth?  Simply because I want to experience more of life with them….and I am not saying that desire is a bad thing.  It’s not.  It’s natural and fitting when we love someone to want to have more time with them and to be sad when we no longer have that.  However when we think of what it is that they have to wait for when we ask to keep them here longer…well, to me it seems so selfish.  It is me that will be missing her….she won’t be missing me.  She’ll be dancing with Jesus.  How do I ask for her to wait to do that??

So I wrestle.  I pray.  I continue to trust.  I continue to believe in miracles but know that sometimes they don’t look quite like I think they should.  I continue to say "God this really really sucks.  I don't want to not have my mom around.  But I am trusting you."  And I continue to hold on to the knowledge that some day I'll see her again after she's gone...and she'll be happy and whole and dancing and cracking jokes and loving everyone around her just as she did before she got sick.

Gotta say though this inbetween time is really hard.

Perspective

My Mom (on left)...in 2008 on the beach in Spain.

“Just be glad you can.”

Those were the words of my mom to me today…as I complained briefly about not wanting to do housework. 

She said them as she lay on her couch, pillow propped under her knees, another cushioning her feet.  She’s always been a small woman, but these days she’s smaller than she ever has been.  She is wearing cotton pajama bottoms, a t-shirt. Her face is lacking any makeup although one doesn’t really notice that.  As she lays there, propped up with pillows, there is a table next to her with her laptop, another with a bowl of fruit and a couple glasses, one with water and the other with juice.  At her far side, resting between her side and the back of the couch is a machine, with a tube, that is constantly pumping medications into her body, medications that are designed to keep her comfortable.

“Just be glad you can.”

As my mom spoke those words, her face grimaced with pain, as she fought against it and I could see a greater pain in her eyes than just that which her body was putting her through. And then I recalled my response to her “Yes, I know.  I remember well what it was like to lay in that hospital while I was pregnant with Isaac, unable to clean or cook or do laundry for myself. It was a great day when I could finally wash my own laundry.”

And I realized that what I felt during those days is nothing like what my mom must be feeling as she says those words.  My mom is dying.  She won’t ever do any of those things again.

I cannot begin to imagine what it must be like.  As I have thought of my mom’s passing, I have thought of the many occasions she will not be a part of, the big moments in the lives of myself, my sister and my children.  I have thought of the many mundane moments we won’t have with her.  I’ve thought of how much we will miss her and her sense of humor, her jokes (even if they are sometimes really corny).  I’ve thought of how much I will miss being able to cry my heart out and to hear her say “It’s okay.  I love you and it’s going to be okay.”  Those things are all so incredibly hard for me to think about.

It never occurred to me how hard it must be for my mom. 

“Just be glad you can.”

There are days when I complain about having to get up and go to work.  There are days when I do everything I can to avoid having to do the laundry or housework that desperately needs to be done.  There are days when I am so tired that the last thing I want to do is get up in the middle of the night to attend to my child.

“Just be glad you can.”

There are moments when I am exhausted and don’t feel like I can give one more bit of myself to anyone else and a friend calls needing me to be a friend.  There are moments when the last thing I feel like doing is taking another step up that trail that doesn’t seem to want to end with my children at my side, even though the end of that trail, never explored by us before, could be just around the corner.  There are days when I complain that I can’t afford the big vacation to somewhere tropical.

“Just be glad you can.”

I find myself grateful for the dirt on my floor, dragged in by the cats, the dog and the kids, that I will vacuum up…not because I have to….but because I can.

Thank you, Mom, for reminding me of that.  And thank you for the many words, the many lessons, the many moments you have given us through the years just because you could.  And even now doing as much as you can when you can…because you can.  I love you.


What things do you take for granted and wish you didn't have to do?  Which of those things, if you couldn't do them, would you miss doing?  How can you begin to apply the idea of doing everything all for the glory of God....a verse my mom has endeavored to live out every day for as long as I can remember?  In what ways does your perspective need to change?