for marie

"are you ready for heaven?" i asked softly.

(it was an awkward question . . . or maybe just an awkward moment . . . looking at someone who is near death and talking with them about what will likely soon be.)

she slowly, but deliberatley, nodded yes.

(it was the first answer to a question that i had gotten all morning.)

i smiled. and happy tears welled up in my eyes. i don't think that she noticed. i don't think any actually spilled out onto my cheek . . . they just sat there in my eyes, blurring my vision of this beautiful woman that lay before me.

i sat there a bit longer, at times talking with her, at times talking to her, at times just looking at her, moistening her lips with vasoline, wetting her mouth that was so dry from lack of fluids, stroking her hair, holding her hand.

-------------------------------------

i sat down by the lake for a long while, reading Scripture and contemplating the fate of my friend. the air was crisp from the breeze that came now and then, but the sun made it warm enough that you knew it was springtime. all the flowers were out, the dogwoods white with bloom. there were geese near the water's edge and every once in awhile i'd here the scurry of a squirrel in the grass behind me. i sat there for a long time. in the middle of spring happening all around me. in the midst of life. in the midst of new life.

-------------------------------------

there was a long set of windows in her room. everyday when i would visit, i walked over to the windows and looked out into a lovely little courtyard . . . and past the courtyard to the lake on which the hospital is situated. the lake where i sat a few days earlier. it struck me one day how that wall of windows seemed to be a very distinctive divider between that room of death and a world of life.

-------------------------------------

i have spent a good deal of time thinking, contemplating, questioning, reading . . . for many days i had a deep uneasiness, and a great sadness about my friend. i cried sad tears over the impending loss of her. but then one day it hit me . . .

i was focusing too much on the external. was it ok to be grieving her loss? absolutely. but what does Jesus tell us he looks at? what does he tell us matters? not the external, but the internal. not the body, but the soul.

i was looking at my sweet friend's body deteriorate, day by day, little by little. i was watching her eyes get dimmer, her breathing get heavier, her responsiveness grow less. but all of that was simply her body. what was going on with her soul?

i don't claim to know what happens to a person's soul as they are dying . . . at least in the days that lead up to death. but i know the end result for my friend. and i'd like to think that in those final days her soul was inching closer and closer to the gates. closer and closer to Him. that while her responsiveness to this world was growing less and less, her soul's responsiveness to heaven was growing greater and greater . . . that she was continually feeling more peace, more warmth, more excitement, more rest about where she was going.

i was seeing the death; but at the same time she was drawing nearer to Life.

------------------------------------

today was her day of arrival. today was the day of homecoming. she had told me a week ago that she was ready. and today she got to go.

"And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!"