(Originally posted 10/17/13)
It is now confirmed after extensive research by the Center for Disease Control that everyone who starts breathing will eventually stop. If you’re holding out for a miracle cure I have some bad news for you. Are you sitting down? Stop breathing and you’re gonna die. So, stop breathing at your own peril…
Do we really need the Center for Disease Control to tell us that we are ALL going to die?
Apparently, in our western culture anyway, many believe that if they ignore that 900 pound gorilla in the room, death will never darken their door.
Not so, folks. Sorry to be the one to dampen your dreams of living forever, at least here on this earth, in this body. It just ain’t gonna happen. Why does it matter? Because there’s a reason we refuse to accept that death is another part of our journey. Sadly, if we can’t bring ourselves to face our own mortality then those following us may be doomed to that same fear and uncertainty.
There could be any number of reasons we avoid the inevitable. Pick one or chose your own:
- I am afraid of the unknown, and death is the ultimate unknown. If someone, anyone, would just come back and tell me what it’s like…sigh…
Remember the rich man begging from hell that his five brothers be told of his torment so they wouldn’t end up there? The rich man said, “Then let me ask you, Father: Send him to the house of my father where I have five brothers, so he can tell them the score and warn them so they won’t end up here in this place of torment.” Abraham answered, “They have Moses and the Prophets to tell them the score. Let them listen to them.” “I know, Father Abraham,” he said, “but they’re not listening (my emphasis). If someone came back to them from the dead, they would change their ways.” Abraham replied, “If they won’t listen to Moses and the Prophets, they’re not going to be convinced by someone who rises from the dead.” Luke 16:27-31
- I kinda like it here with all my _____________(fill in the blank)
- I don’t want my husband remarrying some snarky woman who will raise my children. (That used to be my favorite. Never mind that I was that snarky woman!)
- I wanna be here for: graduations, weddings, and grandkids. Oh yeah, and the anniversary when you get all those cool red vases and candy dishes you never use.
- I have lots of plans: I have to finish school, finish a marathon, finish the dishes.
- And, what I believe is probably the biggest reason: fear that my sins will come back to haunt me on that great Judgment Day. They are surely logged somewhere: I never forgave _________, I never asked forgiveness from ________, I never admitted to stealing ________, or lying about _________, or coveting ___________. And – sin of sins – I missed Mass on October 23rd, 1974.
It’s all there. All my ugliness. I really intended to clean that up “one of these days”, just never got around to it because there was lots of time. I mean I never considered that I was going to actually die at an inopportune time.
- All the above.
- None of the above.
Death is Cousin Eddie: obnoxious, showing up unannounced, making impossible demands, and flushing our sewage in the middle of the street for everyone’s viewing pleasure.
Beauty, for sure, but ugliness as well, manifests itself during the dying process: ours, that of the person dying, or both, as the world watches in horror and disbelief. “Whoa, didn’t see that coming!”
A good example was the funeral of my grandmother. With a room full of friends and relatives my mother and aunt began to fight over who would get my grandmothers…ready?…wheelchair. Not millions of dollars or prized possessions, but her wheelchair. There you go. What’s your worst memory? I’m sure you have one. We all have at least one.
As I sit here and write today, tears well up in my eyes from an experience I had just last night. As a Hospice volunteer, when called by my supervisor I will sit vigil with dying patients. I consider it a blessing and a privilege to be in such a holy place at such a time in a dying person’s life, and to be with their loved ones if they’re there. Some are not by choice, as was the case last night. For obvious reasons I cannot share details, but I can tell you this – she was a believer, her husband was not. They had no children and no other family. When her husband was told that she would likely not make it through the night he refused to go see her.
Now, I have no way of knowing why. She had dementia and was not coherent enough for me to understand her needs or the source of her torment. I can only speculate after reading volumes of examples from the experiences of hospice RN’s. While appreciating that trying to fully understand what is happening during the dying process is impossible because it is one of God’s great mysteries, we do have hints of what may be taking place. For example: some people will not die until, say, a son from out-of-town arrives, or until a beloved spouse says they will be okay and actually gives them “permission” to die. They may be waiting to die until a loved one leaves the room.I am slowly witnessing myself glimpses of the mystery of God that unfolds within the dying process.
We just welcomed our thirteenth grandbaby two days ago. YEA! What an amazing event!!! Even at number thirteen, I am still awestruck by the magnificence of the beginning of life. Aren’t we all? Isn’t it just breathtaking? (Update 8/30/20150, we now have fourteen!)
But the end of life? Not so much.
I’m going to try my best, as inadequate as this may be, to summarize what I have grown to understand about death and dying. Bear with me.
Up until, and at that moment of birth we are most connected to the very core of our Being – God. Remember, God knew us before we were born: Jeremiah 1:5, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; before you were born I sanctified you; I ordained you a prophet to the nations.” Then, so many things go awry don’t they? We lose our way, we push away, “cut the cord” I suppose you could say, and go our own way.
Then the end comes. (I told you that was going to happen, right? Okay, just wanted to be sure I didn’t leave that little detail out.) So, guess what happens then? God shows up, if you will, to bring us back to our Core; back to His very Essence; back home. It’s mysterious and glorious. But, if we’re not ready; if we’re afraid, we will fight it with all we have left.
We so often struggle getting to that place of peace and trust in the process because of all of our “stuff”. And that’s what I believe was happening to the woman I sat with last night. This is what I know: she’s a believer, her husband is not (huge problem for her). They both were very ill and at some point promised not to put the other in a nursing home. That’s all I know for sure. The rest is speculation.
Her breathing would slow, then race, then stop – over and over again. She would seem to be peaceful one moment and then cry out inaudibly. What was she trying so desperately to say? Was it physical pain or emotionally torment? I don’t know. I prayed for her and her husband, and at times that would make her cry out. At one point, she said clearly, “Pray”. So I did. Is she still with us today? I don’t know as yet. But, here’s what is so important about what I have shared with you: Life should be lived each day as if it’s the last, because it may very well be. If you and I would just accept that fact and live accordingly wouldn’t we make our little world a better place while we’re here and possibly make our own dying something beautiful and memorable for our loved ones?
When it’s my turn to take that final journey I want my kids, my fourteen grandkids, and fifteen great-grandkids (updated 7/27/20) to witness the glory of God at His best and to not fear their own journey. I want to die with grace and surety that there is a loving and merciful God waiting for me with open arms. And I want to hear Him say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” (Matt. 25:21) How cool will that be?!