Tammy On Tuesday ~ We Will Rejoice

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After a fitful night of being up and down, my eyes opened just before 8AM. I lay there for a moment getting my bearings.

You’re on a cot…

in a hospital room…

with your Nana…

hospice…

I listened for her breathing.

She’s still with us.

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The room was dark so I sat up to look outside and see if I could see the sun. It was rising in the distance and reflecting vibrantly on windows of the wing of the building adjacent to ours. It warmed my heart. Looks like it’s going to be a pretty day.

That’s when the familiar words ran through my head…a verse Nana quoted pretty much every single time I was with her. This is the day that the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24  She also often sang it in a cheerful melody.

Click here to hear a video we captured this summer – Nana Sings “This Is The Day”

I’ll cherish it for as long as I live.

Those words. Do they count on a day like today? This is “one of the days” God made – a day He ordained for my Nana and for all of us. He tells us to rejoice in it. We’ve spent our time here in this room waiting for her to go and be with Jesus. Can we truly rejoice?

You may be thinking, “My goodness, you’ve had 102 wonderful years with your Nana. She’s had a long life. It’s time to say goodbye.” I know. I tell myself those very things.

But no one likes to say goodbye.

And there’s something about the nighttime. Just before I lay down to sleep on this cot, I confess I get a little afraid. It’s odd to long for something and be afraid of it at the same time. I’m not afraid for her or the fact that she’s leaving because I know where she’s going. It’s just the event itself.

“God, what will we do if we wake up and she’s gone?

God, what will we do in the dark of the night when most of the family has gone home to rest and it’s just my sister, my mom and me?

Can I be strong for my mom?

Why does the end, which we are praying will come quickly and painlessly, seem to loom and threaten especially at night?

How will my mom handle the finality of it?”

I sense His words fall heavy on my heart every time the questions arise.

“I am here now and I will be there too. Don’t worry child.”

To comfort myself I think about how, soon, my Nana will see Jesus face to face and be reunited with so many loved ones. It will be quite a time for her. As each of my children sat by her bed for some personal time with her, I painted the picture of heaven for them. I told them she will be strong and perfect. No longer suffering in an old and tired body.

I’ve tried to get a feeling for where my kids are with all of this and relate to them in whatever way they are comfortable. They have all been here in Nana’s room and are able to linger as close or far as they feel comfortable from her bed.

I had an especially sweet time with my son, Hudson. You see, Hudson has been working out lately and lifting weights. He and I jokingly compare our muscles. I said to him yesterday, “Hudson, I know Nana looks so frail right now but soon, when she wakes up in heaven, she will be as strong as ever. She’d be able to take me.” That’s teen lingo for she could beat me up. He smiled at the thought and although I was being funny he appreciated my illustration. I have watched my children carefully and I see God working in their hearts as we stare death in the face with the confidence of Christ.  Hudson prayed a heartfelt prayer for her, just the three of us in the room.  I’ll tuck that memory away as one of my most special.

It’s the goodbye part that is so hard. And even when you tell yourself to prepare, are you ever really ready?

I’m thankful the goodbyes won’t be for long.

We’ve talked at length about my Nana’s close walk with the Lord. We’ve talked about how her parents pointed her to Christ and she chose to follow Him.

She pointed my mom to Christ, and my mom made the choice to follow Jesus.

My mom has spent her life pointing us to Christ. And now each of us must choose what we will do.

The realization has been magnified here on the hospice floor. Where darkness and light mix. She gave usPINIMAGEJesus – in her words and in her life. What a gift!

We’ve sung.

We’ve cried.

We’ve reminisced.

We’ve laughed.

We’ve hoped.

God has drawn so close to us, encouraging our hearts, comforting us in some of the most unexpected ways. I call them “God-winks”. He constantly reveals His presence to us and it has sustained us and given us cause to rejoice – even in death.

We had wonderful nurse here with us throughout the day on Saturday. Her name is Angela and she ministered to any and every need we had. Even if we wanted to just talk, she would listen with great interest. We talked a lot about my Nana and shared pictures and all. She was leaving the room at one point and said, “It’s so unusual to see three generations hold vigil over a loved one here. Children, yes. Grandchildren, maybe. Great grandchildren, rarely.” She commented on how special our love and honor are for Nana.

When her shift ended, she came in one more time to say goodbye. Before she turned to leave she said, “Your family has restored my faith in humanity.”

I had to speak up.

I said, “Angela, what you see here has nothing to do with humans at all. The beauty of what you’ve seen in us is God. That’s it. He gets all the credit.”

My Nana knew that.  I know it. And it’s my prayer that you the reader also know Christ and all He’s done to give us life now and forever.

My Nana’s path is ending here and crossing over to her heavenly home. Matthew 7:13-14 says, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”

She chose to follow.  What will you do with Jesus?

As you can probably imagine many songs have played in my mind while I sit and wait. One I’ve sung over many times is

Live for Jesus.

That’s what matters.

And when other houses crumble,

mine is strong.

Live for Jesus.

That’s what matters.

That you see the light in me and come along.

Friends, consider it! Can’t think of a better perspective builder than the hospice floor. Live for Jesus.

Psalm 31:19 says, How great is the goodness you have stored up for those who fear you. You lavish it on those who come to you for protection, blessing them before the watching world.

Our friends here on the hospice unit have been here to witness God caring for His child. Even in death we are blessed.

Today is the day the Lord has made and I will rejoice.