Working as a programs coordinator for cancer patients and their caregivers is an amazingly rewarding way to spend a day. And that is what I get to do, Monday through Friday. Five years ago on February 5th (this is a big anniversary!) I had bilateral mastectomies. Mastectomies and subsequent chemotherapy put me in a deeper place of personal surrender. It is absolutely true that everything I learned throughout my own experience with cancer now takes on new, beautiful meaning and purpose as I sit with patients facing their own cancer diagnoses. In so many of the connections I make with people at the clinic, I have this sense that I'm experiencing a transcendent gift, in conversations attended by angels and by Christ Himself. I'm humbled by the blessing!
I recently suffered a very difficult loss. Although at times I have said good-bye to patients whom I've met at the clinic, this loss was different. It was my own sweet mother. And although I thought that facing my own mortality day after day and with others at the clinic would prepare me for such a loss, I realize now it isn't so simple as that. I still have a lot to learn.
I was with Mom and Dad on January 22, 2012, the day Mom died. Mom's hospital bed was in the living room, so I spent time playing hymns on piano and flute. I talked with her and read scripture. She never moved at all, never gave any hint that she was able to hear- except for an occasional twitch of her eyebrows. Mom’s eyes stayed slightly open all morning and into the afternoon the day of her death. As I sat beside her, I read aloud the last verse of ‘Love Divine, All Loves Excelling:’
Finish, then, thy new creation; pure and spotless let us be. Let us see thy great salvation perfectly restored in Thee; changed from glory into glory, till in heaven we take our place, till we cast our crowns before Thee, lost in wonder, love, and praise. What a glorious prayer! What a powerful vision. I will never again sing that hymn without picturing Mom in heaven, lost in wonder, love, and praise!
I recall that Psalm 139 came so alive as I opened it up to her, too. I felt the comfort of God’s presence there in the living room, and I knew Mom was ‘alive’ to what I was saying and reading. We enjoyed the beauty of the snow outside the window and marveled at God’s gift. Her gaze did not change. But still, I knew Mom heard. And I told her that when the time came, I would meet her at the River.
Rev. 21:6, “And then He said to me, ‘It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.’” God’s word is wonderful and true! I’ll meet you at the River!
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| In July, 2007, Mom and Dad, my sisters (Lora, Martha, Jan) and I were together for a Maiers family reunion. I had finished chemo about a month and a half earlier; I'm bald beneath that wig! |
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| Celebrating Mom's birthday at home in Valparaiso, December 31, 2009: me, Lora, Jan, Martha, and Mom |
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| Three generations, Thanksgiving, 2010, Valparaiso: Joanne Marie, Karen Marie, Joanna Marie |
