THE ELEVENTH HOUR
Heaven,Our Real Home is a book I found in my mother's suitcase shortly after she went home to Glory. She had been in the hospital under-going, and recovering, from open heart surgery for the fifth time. It was evident that thoughts of that after life weighed heavily on her mind.
I chose this background with butterlfies because I can think of no other example of eternal life. The caterpillar goes into it's cocoon and seems to have died. But when spring comes it emerges as a beautiful butterfly! And so is life.
I have had the unique and privilaged experience of observing a couple of different people in their journey through their eleventh hour. And with that experience death no longer dwells in the shadowy corners of morbidness for me. I am not saying that I do not fear it for all the unknown, as anyone does. But these experience have touched my heart in such a way that grief is not a part of what I feel concerning their departure.
The person who stands out most in mind is someone who stepped over years ago. She was the mother-inlaw of dear friend of mine. I remember being a young mother in my early 20's, walking across a dewy meadow with two little ones in tow. We were on our way to Mae's farmhouse for Tuesday morning bible study.
She was a strong woman in her 70's then. A farmers wife
and her home reflected the years battling poor seasons
and rejoicing in bounty. She had raised eleven children and now had a hand in raising many grandchildren.
My life went through some changes,and she developed Alzeimers after her husband past away. I hadn't seen her for awhile, but at a bible conference, I went over to her. She was blind and very frail, but she knew immediately who I was when I spoke.
Not so long after that she went down hill rapidly and was put into a nursing just a couple of blocks from my home.I was a single mom at this time and my oldest daughter worked there as a nurses aid.
I decided to repay her kindness to me by visiting her on a regular basis. But, it was I who was blessed.
She had lost a leg to diabetes,her eyesight and her mental facilties. She didn't know anyone and had lost the ability to preform simple task. Some days I go in and she'd think I was her mother, sister, or daughter.
But,the most amazing thing was that when I read scripture to her she recited it word for word with me.
And,she new the word to hymns.
She was in her eleventh hour and more frail than a tiny embryo. But, the one thing that was never taken from her was God. Even in her confusion, He was clearly in her path.
One day I went in to see her and somewhere along the line,I leaned forward in my chair, rested my head on her bed on my bible and fell fast to sleep! I woke up an hour later to the voice of an aid. Mae's hand was stroking my head and I had drooled all over my bible.
She thought she was stroking the head of one of her children and she was so content. God gave her that in the shadows of death...When she past away it really was a time to rejoice. God had prepared her heart for
the journey.He did so by preparing her heart throughout life. She had been a faithful servant,and in her hour of need, He did not forget her. He brought the perfect comfort to minister to her frailties.
The passage that was most confusing for me was that of my daughter's twelve years ago. She had been born prematurely, struggled for air with a few wispy cries, and then she was gone. Death was without fear for her and left me feeling so empty. Why did she have to go so early in life? I never really understood why
and I have learned to be content to know that God has the answers. Her departure was so quiet and almost sweet.
I don't know if it is a Native American Tradition or not.But,I remember something vividly about that side of my family. My memories of childhood are very few. My great-grandmother died in the family home. Her bed was right in the middle of the livingroom and life bussled around her. When everyone knew she was not going to be in this life much longer the family gathered around. They had tea and people brought food.
I didn't really know what was going on, but it was like a picnic! But that old indian woman died in the warmth of her family's embrace and the children involved were not made fearful of death. They saw it as part of the process. I do not know, however, if she is with the Lord.
The other person [s}who made such a strong impression was my mother and grandmother, who died within twelve days of each other. Their passage was intwined. My grandmother having lived a life portraying a faithful, quiet, gentle strength, and my mother was one who seemed to find struggles in all her steps.
My mother was in the hospital having surgery when my grandmother was passing on,and through the voice of a dear aunt, I followed her last moments. Twelve days later,I accompanied my mother to the door. Her passage through that door was as much of a struggle as living was for her. And...it was very sad and traumatic.
So,I guess the thing that I have learned thus far,is that we die as we live. So when the bible says,"Take no thought for tomorrow," there are hidden blessings in that thought. We must strive for day and be faithful in it.Having the faith to find your way home....
I am standing alone upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sail to the morning breeze
and starts for the vast blue ocean. She is the object of beauty and strength,and I stand and watch her until at length, she hangs like a speck of white clouds just above the horizon.
Then, someone nearby says, "There,she's gone." Gone where? Gone from my sight-that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side,and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished size is in me,not her: and just as that someone nearby me said, "There, she is gone," there are other eyes watching her coming. Those other voices ready to take up the glad shout. "There,she comes!"
You will find some very strong answers and scripture references at my friend's site.