Friday, July 21, 2006
Death is a very diffucult thing to deal with. Its a fact that everyone knows exists and is coming, but we all supress the reality of it daily until it slaps us right in the face and we are forced to encounter it again. I have recently had an encounter such as this in the passing of my grandmother, my last living grandparent and the only one I have really ever known.
I was volunteering at my youth groups junior high camp early this week (from Monday to Wednesday), and I had to come home early because I was working Thursday morning. Exhausted from little sleep and dealing with junior highschoolers, I was about to go to sleep a few minutes after arriving home. However, a phone call came and as soon as I knew it my father, my uncle and I were rushing off to the hospital. About a month ago my grandmother had congestive heart failure, and even though she recovered well and was back at her nursing home across the street, we knew the end was near.
My mother and sister met us there, and we spent the next four or so hours waiting on news and waiting for some tests to be done. My grandmother was put on a respitory system in order to keep her alive during these tests. At around 4am, exhausted and knowing we would know nothing for a few hours, we went home.
At 7am we woke up to go back to the hospital. Nothing could be done and we had to say our goodbyes. We spent a few hours with her, and made arrangements to have a priest come and give my grandmother her last rights and final confession. My grandmother was a nun for thirteen years, and had met with a priest in her nursing home at least once a week. Though I am not Catholic and obviously disagree with much of their theology, due to many conversations my sisters have had with her I believe she is in heaven right now. I was glad we were able to get her these last sacraments as I know she would have wanted them.
The most difficult moment for me was when I had to say goodbye. I requested to have some time alone with my grandmother and staring at her in her hospital bed, holding her hand, I told her that I loved her and that I was sorry I didn't visit more often. I had to apologize for not spending more time together. I said a quick prayer with her and said goodbye and abruptly left the hospital in tears. It wasn't my first encounter with death, and was surely not my most tragic (my close childhood friend passed away when we were 14 after a six year battle with cancer that had even left him paralyzed). However, this loss hurt me more than I expected.
I strongly believe in the sovereignty and justice of God. He is in complete control over things, and he is good in taking us from the earth whether or not it is at 14 or 87. Whereas death often puts doubt into the heart of people, it does not waver me. I also believe strongly that God places suffering and hardship in our lives just as justly. Therefore, I believe it to be a sad thing when we waste this suffering and do not use it learn, to change, and to increase our intimacy with Christ.
It is a shame that I had to apologize to my grandmother about the time we didn't spend together. She lived within a few miles of my house, and yet I saw her maybe once every few months. Our visits were always more ackward for me than anything, as I had never known my grandmother very well before it became more difficult to connect with her (she had trouble remembering a lot of things). In that moment in time, I could have and should have been able to thank her for all the times we had together. There are a lot of other members in my family, my sisters and parents included, to whom I would have to say the same thing. I'm not soley to blame for that, but no one ever is. However, in the end, your forced to look down and see more of what didn't happen than did. I challenge all of you, and myself, to make it so we never have to say that.
Life will end, whether at 87 or 14. There are no mulligans or a rewind button. I think the majority of us may look back at months or years of our lives and see we invested in our TV's and our sleep and our hanging out more than we did our families, and, more importantly (for those readers who believe) the Gospel. In America we worship our comfort more than our Savior.
More of this is my thoughts than a lesson. I know I could quote you all Scriptures and explain how death came into existence and all of this, or give you an exposition on suffering. Thats not really what is on my heart today, though. On my heart is a mixture of regret and hurt mixed with conviction and weight on my life and what I am doing with it. In the end, we need to do all things for the glory of Christ. We should live and die for the glory of Christ. My relationship with my grandma should have reflected that more. I truly will miss her.
In loving memory of Frances Carlson (1918-2006)
