Another Place

I received a phone call this morning. Your mother is being sent to the emergency room. She's throwing up blood, and it doesn't look good.

With legs that felt like iron weights, and hands that shook so bad, I had to hold them against myself, I walked into the emergency room not knowing what to expect. There I heard words from the doctor that didn't come completely as a shock. We recommend hospice care for your mother. She's so frail now, and perhaps it would be best for her just to be kept comfortable.

Every child of an aging parent asks themselves if they are doing the right thing. Are our decisions what our parents would want? Some of us are fortunate that our families have spoke freely about such things. Therefore when the time comes, we know immediately what must be done.

Others of us have spoken in deeper terms though. We've had the distinct honor to talk of things on a more spiritual level. We know that our loved ones are believers and even look forward to their next journey.

There is so much more than our eyes can see. So much more than we hear or feel. I am learning this now as my mom slips farther from us into sickness and Alzheimer's. It's not always about "crazy talk." I recently read a book that showed me that end of life and hospice produces some of the most beautiful messages from our suffering loved ones. It mentioned that we should pay close attention to what is being said as they transition from this world to the next.

When my father was in the hospital last year, there were several odd things we heard from him. And now I'm noticing that very thing with my mother. She's been talking more to someone that my brother and I don't see. Though I strain to hear her words, it's in a whisper quiet voice that perhaps I'm not meant to hear. She reached up once as if grasping someone by the hand. She has petted animals that aren't there. Today she said she saw a Bible, but when we pressed a little to see if someone was holding or reading it, she said no.

When my husband's uncle was in hospice care at his nursing home a few years ago, I remembered something powerful about that. The chaplain that was there at his side, said the most beautiful thing. He mentioned that Hubert was between this world and the next. Upon hearing that, the room almost seemed to change for me. I felt a Holy Presence surrounding us, and it was as if Jim's uncle was becoming more spirit than flesh at that time.

Also at my father's bedside on his last day, and I haven't told many people this, I sensed the presence of four strong angels surrounding him. One was at the head of the bed, one at the foot, and one on either side. There were a few of our dear friends and family members with us, but I distinctly saw with my heart and soul that Dad was surrounded by holy warriors ready to bring him home.

I don't speak about my belief freely. But during a time such as this in my family's life, more than ever, I feel the need to share things that I feel God has shown us and hoping it may also comfort anyone else who is going through this.

My mother is becoming that lovely spirit now. And I know where she is going, for she visited there once before. She'd felt a love like no other during a cardiac arrest in her earlier years. A love that surrounded her and permeated her very being. She often said she did not fear death after that.

Though my heart is heavy, and it's almost like deja vu from last summer, I feel how I did with my father--ready to let go, to picture Mom free from her suffering; dancing with Dad, feeling God's warmth and love, and reuniting with so many loved ones who have been gone for such a long time. For my mom lost so many people in her life, and I know they are there, ready and waiting with opened arms to greet her.

God, help us to see with the eyes of faith, not our limited vision. Help us to know just how wide and deep Your love really is. Help us to be able to let go and give all to You.