Life is a sacred gift.
But, some seasons are more sacred than others.
These days the blanket of vulnerability we all feel because of Covid-19 reminds me to embrace the sacredness of life as a gift. Every day.
Almost 5 years ago I wrote this post about the sacred gift of life as I began saying goodbye to my mother. In this days when life feels so fragile, it is worth revisiting.
Two years ago, my mother lived on her own, in her own house, driving her own car. Two weeks ago, she entered hospice care.
My Mom, Fran, with her dog, Rigby. (9/25/15)
This is my fourth lap with the hospice-farewell process: my father, my father-in law, my Uncle, and now my Mom. The best words that come to me for describing the farewell season of life are sacred and awful.
To stand at the end of life with someone you love and recall the stories of their life is a sacred place. To reflect on their moments of courage and vitality is to embrace the depth of who they were. To look ahead with them to the promise of eternity, to the place where pain and suffering evaporate in the presence of Jesus is to touch what is truly holy.
However, the moments that litter the pathway of this journey through the breakdown of the human body can be gut-wrenchingly awful. Our bodies were not created for death. We were created for life. Death entered the scene as part of the fall—the curse of Adam and all of us who’ve continued in his rebellious footsteps. We were never intended to experience dementia, debilitating loss of strength, or the demise of bodily functions. We weren’t designed to feed our parents when they can’t feed themselves.
Watching my Mom wilt into a smaller and smaller version of who she used to be, I have to remind myself that she lived 87 years of healthy independence. Until two years ago, she was able to live in her own house, drive her own car, and engage in the activities she enjoyed.
But, things have changed. I now need to choose to embrace the sacred transition that is taking place in right front of my eyes—a transition from this life into the next. I have to start saying goodbye while she is still here.
I am not a fan of those endless (and expensive) attempts to squeeze another short delay of the inevitable when the body is saying, “I'm done. I've had enough.” Desperate attempts to postpone death only serve to increase everyone’s sorrow and suffering.
I think we need to learn to acknowledge that it is right and good and holy to arrive at end of this life and declare “it is finished.” It is a holy thing to say like David, “I have completed God’s purpose in my own generation.” (Acts 13.36) We need to remember and declare God’s perspective: “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his faithful servants.” (Ps 116.15)
We don’t know how long my Mom has nor how things will play out at the end. Last week was a good week. The past couple days have been bad days. But, I do know that as I enter another farewell season, I choose to embrace it as a sacred moment. Awful at points, but holy and good and right. It is a time to say goodbye. It is a time to bless her transition into the next life as it becomes ever closer.
When you have the chance to walk the same road with the people you love, I invite you to embrace this holy tension with me.
Your thoughts? Your experience?