I’ve spent a lot of time this weekend in the home of a dear family friend, Joyce. She has been battling cancer for some time and recently took a turn for the worse. I visited her just a week ago and she was able to have a conversation and show me her newest paintings – she’s an amazing artist. But this weekend when I was with her, it was different. No more conversations, or communication of any kind really, as she lay under her quilt, her tiny body making the twin bed look huge.
Joyce is special to our family. She is dear friends with my sweet grandmother and her kids grew up in the Episcopal church with my mom and her siblings. And although I knew the two families were pretty well acquainted, I didn’t know just how close they were until tonight when I listened to them tell stories as they sat gathered around her bed in the corner of her room.
Being there tonight brought a reminder of when my Pop died less than a couple years ago. He had suffered a stroke when I was in high school and lived out the rest of his life in a wheel chair. And he never once complained about it either.
But one night, when things seemed bleak, we called Father Lee to come and give Pop his Last Rights. We really thought it was the end.
But even in that time, when the strongest man any of us had ever known seemed to be his weakest, his life filled the room. The whole house, really.
All of the family was there.
Wife, daughters, son, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Everyone that he literally helped bring life to was there.
But we weren’t crying or even sitting in solemn silence.
We were watching Noodling on TV…
You know, that crazy thing where people catch catfish with their bare hands??
We were watching noodling, laughing, telling jokes and stories, undoubtedly playing tricks on each other, and the littlest ones had toys out on the floor.
And all of us were happy and smiling.
Now when the priest showed up to give communion, read the rights, and pray, we of course all settled down and a somber mood fell over the room.
It became more serious, yes, but not any less joyful. We were all there with a man we loved dearly and were celebrating his life by just being there together.
Yes, in these times we can be sad and upset or even angry, and I truly think all of those emotions are okay in these situations. Feel what you feel, just don’t stay that way (some wisdom I learned from Lauren White J). But if we want to really honor these people and the lives they’ve lived, we should let their life fill the room. Relive those happy moments with your friends and family. And to show just how much we love them, I think the strongest emotion we should feel is joy.
It’s a joyous moment when somebody who has lived such an amazing life here on earth is about to walk into life eternal with Jesus. A life with no more pain, suffering, or tears. A life where they are made complete, brought to perfection, and finally reunited with the Father.
The Creator of the Universe can finally say those words we all long to hear, “well done my good and faithful servant.”
I think we all want our loved ones to experience this kind of joy when our time comes.
So I’m not going to let death frighten me or anger me. Instead I’m going to let it remind and inspire me to live for something far greater than myself, just like the ones who’ve gone before me.
