This is not the End.

Today has been a reflective day. Motherhood, life. faith. 

I often think about the sweetest moments with my girls. They stay with me. The other day... It was that typical young child/toddler thing where you’re busy with something, then all of a sudden it occurs to you that the house is eerily quiet.  Then I heard ear-piercing squeals of delight! I went looking for my two girls and found them in the shower box together, where they were rubbing each others’ foamy, goopy hair, sporting mischievous grins on their faces. It would appear that they had located the shampoo bottle! I couldn’t be angry about it. It just meant a much earlier bath than I had planned. They were just so cute together. My mum always said it was the loveliest thing ever when my sisters and I were kids and all she could hear was laughter and chatter. It’s certainly true for me.

Although motherhood in itself is incredibly rewarding, a few months ago I decided to do some volunteering for a couple of organisations. One of them includes visiting elderly people who, for whatever reason, feel isolated and lonely. This morning I had planned to go visit the elderly lady whom I had recently started visiting once a week. I called her to remind her that I’d be coming and check if it’s still alright, just before I planned on leaving. She answered the phone and I asked her how she was doing. “Not good,” she answered warily. She is in her nineties, so she is often plagued by various ailments – one thing or another, as well as her sight being almost gone. “My mind is sharp, but my body is falling apart,” she always tells me. It turned out that she was actually going to have surgery today and was getting picked up by her daughter this morning to be taken to the hospital.

“I’m very frightened,” she told me anxiously. “I’m old. I don’t know if I’m going to make it through the surgery.” I didn’t know what to say. Risks for complications during surgery are much higher at that age. I told her she’d be fine, that it’s not major surgery. Why did I say that? I don’t know that. She didn’t sound convinced. She said that she wouldn’t be able to do anything for 6 weeks. I told her that I would help her as much as I am able to. She brushed me off with, “Oh, no, no. You’ve got all your people to look after. You’ve got a lot on your plate.” No matter what I said, she kept saying that I would be too busy. I remembered her saying to me that she felt forgotten. “Younger people are so busy these days and I just end up getting left behind. Forgotten. They have their own lives.” We talked a little longer, then I said that I would call her in a couple of days to hear how she is recovering. But, when I hung up I felt uneasy. She was so scared. And I didn’t do a very good job of comforting her. I sat around for a while, restlessly doing this and that.

Eventually, I decided that I needed to do something to cheer her up. I took my toddler along with me, and we bought her a little chocolate. She had told me that she is a chocaholic. I didn’t know if we would get to her place in time to catch her before she got picked up. Then we were off to her place just to pop in for a minute and wish her well with her surgery. I knocked and when she opened the door, she shaded her eyes and said, “Hello?” I remembered that her eyesight was just about gone and she probably didn’t recognize me. I told her who I was and she looked surprised, saying, “Oh, you didn’t have to come all this way!” She almost seemed embarrassed that I would spend effort on her. I reminded her that I literally only live one minute away. There was someone at her place so I said I’d only be a minute. I gave her the little chocolate and told her that even if she isn’t allowed to eat before her surgery, the treat would be waiting for her when she comes home. She asked me, almost suspiciously, “Who told you I like chocolate?” I said that she had told me so herself on one of our visits and that I had remembered that bit of information. She was really touched by that. She told me again, “I’m so frightened. I’m quite old…” It was so hard to know what to say. I’m not good at this stuff. I told her that I’d be thinking of her and that I’d call and check on her after her surgery. We said goodbye, and although she seemed a little bit more upbeat, I could see the fear in her eyes.

How awful, to be so scared of dying. I wish that I could have had a longer conversation with her. To ask her why she felt so scared about the possibility of not making it through the surgery. Was she scared of what would happen to her? Was it the fear of the unknown? I don’t know what the outcome of her surgery will be. I wish I had the courage to take that conversation further and find out what was troubling her. Where she thought she would go if she dies. What was she so afraid of?

I can honestly say that I’m not scared of dying. Do I want to die? No, definitely not. I want to watch my daughters grow up. I want to grow old with my husband and look back on the life we had created together. But, I might not be here tomorrow. I might not be here at the end of this very day. Life goes faster than the blink of an eye. And that’s okay with me. If that is part of God’s plan, then so be it. He is a good God and His plans are so much bigger than what I could ever fathom. Too big for me to understand. But I trust Him. I don’t need to know what’s around the corner. What I do know is that I am secure in His love and when He calls me home I will be in a place where there is no more fear. Every tear will be wiped away from my eyes by the powerful and loving hand of God. I will be with Him forever. And there is nothing better than that. Nothing.

Thomas said to him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?” Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.

John 14:5-6

I only wish that I had the courage to tell her this. To give her hope and to have her know that there is an eternal future with God - if she wanted it. I can only hope and pray that God will give me another chance to talk with her. Who knows if I will get the chance again? This has given me a sense of urgency to do what Jesus has called us to do. Telling other people about God has always been something I’ve shied away from. But, I can’t ignore it anymore. Jesus was clear. It is one of the most important things about believing in Jesus. I’m going to have to dive in. I want others to have what I have. I want them to know the peace that comes only from knowing Jesus. I want them to feel the incomprehensible love of Jesus. He knows what it’s like to be human. He became like us. He was a man of sorrow, who was hated and rejected. He knew pain. He knew suffering. He understands. God knows everything about us, even the ugliest things hidden deep in our souls, and he loves us still. Even while others hated him, Jesus paid the ultimate price for them. That is real love. That is the love I want others to understand.

Whatever walk in life you’ve found yourself in, please know that God is always watching, always waiting for you. Like a lovesick father, waiting for his precious child to turn their face toward him and run into His arms. There is nothing you have done that could be so bad that He would reject you. Absolutely nothing. He knows about it all and He loves you anyway xx