I was reading a friends blog today...it truly struck me to the depths of my soul. I mean a deep reminder of my own battle with loss. My own battle with pain. The reminder of a hurt that comes like a bandage being ripped from a wound. You try and remove it quickly but the sting comes, the wound is uncovered, and it begins to weep again. As I read about her long trial of caring for her father, though it does not seem to have been much of a trial now, the very core of my being was stirred. Images of times past with my own mother...sick even with medicine coursing through her veins, struggling for air which was so easy for me to breathe, long beautiful brown hair replaced by a bareness that reflected in her eyes. For she was laid bare, a fallen world was seeping the life from her. Oh the pain was all too real. The struggle, a mighty one, not meant to be borne by someone so loving, so caring, so in communion with the One who could remove it in a flash. But a struggle she was willing to bear. Her words of impenetrable faith in her loving Saviour, "Give me the cup of my suffering for Your Namesake, for Your glory", a constant echo in my mind. She was so strong, and always seemed to know how the story would end...an ending not fit for those around her at the time.
As she passed and the days, weeks, months, year afterwards too had passed, reminders of her fervent Christ-exalting spirit and warrior-like prayer life became so much more evident. No longer were the sounds of the hospital machines and gasps for air echoing in my mind, being replaced by visions of mom smiling, content, at peace, healed. I was then reminded of what Paul said in Romans 8, "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing to the glory that is to be revealed to us...[we] groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies." To her, cancer was not suffering. It was a means for greater glory to the One who redeemed every part of her. She groaned, hungered eagerly for a salvation that leads to a greater glory to be revealed to her...and to us. Oh how the pain and weariness paled in comparison to the surpassing greatness of her sovereign God. For her, to be with Christ was greater, was gain.
As I read the blog, I was hit by a deluge of emotions. I even find it difficult to write this. It's been five years and, yes, I still miss my mom. I never want that to go away. But as each day passes I desire to be as homesick for my place with Christ as mom did. This is not our home, and she knew. We are foreigners in a foreign land called to live a foreign way of life to His glory 'til He beckons us home or comes to meet us.
Thank you, Jamie, for your beautiful words. May they beckon us to grasp tightly to a Saviour who will never leave us, who does carry us, who has saved us, and who cries with us. Jesus wept when the one whom He loved had passed, but He brought him up to life as He will do for all those whom He loves. I truly believe Jesus wept that day my mom died, and I believe He also was there arms wide to usher her into His kingdom.
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