I just submitted my column for Christian Week's Christmas issue. It's about dying.
It sounds crazy, not exactly a sleigh full of jolly "ho ho hos," but trust me - it fits.
I've never liked death. (I don't suppose I'm unique on that point.) The first person I lost was my grandpa who passed away ten years ago. Even though he called me "Angie" and always asked me how my flute lessons were going (I play clarinet), I felt an emotional attachment to him and didn't want to accept that he was gone.
A few months after his funeral I had a dream. In my dream Grandpa met me at a Burger King (actually he usually took me to Dairy Queen but who's picky in their sleep?). After we'd laughed and talked over our burgers he told me, "I have to go back to the grave now." It sounds bluntly morbid, but in my dream it finally felt alright. God was telling me it was okay to let him go. And in my sleep that night, I said goodbye.
But I still struggle with the concept of death. On one hand people talk about it as a part of life; on the other hand it's a destruction of one of God's precious creations. Yes, because Jesus came back to life, I can look forward to a new pain-free, grief-free (cellulite-free?) body after I die, but God put me on earth for a purpose and I don't want to go anywhere till I've fulfilled it! (I'm not sure I've even figured out what it is yet!)
This tension comes out especially when talking with my kids:
"Put your seatbelt back on. I don't want you flying out the window."
"But then I'd go to heaven."
"I don't want you to go to heaven yet!"
And then other times it goes the other way, when I have to convince them not to be so scared of death because heaven will be great. I'm confused. They're confused.
My column was inspired by two old friends I talked to recently. One is dying of ALS, the other lost her husband three years ago to a brain tumor. And you know what they talked about?
Joy.
So I just had to dig deeper. How could people whose bodies or marriages were torn apart by a terminal illness be joyful?
You'll just have to pick up a copy of Christian Week Manitoba to find out!
But here's where the Christmas story fits in. Jesus was born to walk in our shoes, fall under our burdens, cry our tears, and die. No one else knows how we feel the way he does. He'll never abandon us, even in death. In fact, death just brings us closer to the Saviour we love. That's why my friend could talk about peace like a blanket wrapped around her in a hospital room. Or laughing as they planned their own funeral.
I'm not there yet. But the more I get to know Jesus (preparing to teach a course on the Book of Revelation helps), the less I'm afraid of leaving what I know behind.
To face what he knows already.
2 comments:
When my grandfather died when I was 12, I also had a dream that he visited me from his grave - only I was quite freaked out about the whole thing. I was at my grandparents house and they lived out of town and I refused to go to bed that next night for fear I was going to have the same similar dream. Even though I was very close to him, I was still scared and confused. I like your reasoning behind it much better.
Yeah ... a post!!!
For years my mom was a palliative care nurse. I watched her care for 3 of my grandparents in their homes as they died. She is amazing. I wouldn't say she loves death, but she recognizes it as something holy and miraculous. As miraculous as birth. She always wanted to be with her patients just as they were dying because, she said, "if you listen closely you'll hear bits of heaven." Watching her with my grandparents in their last moments and shortly after it was so obvious to me that she was not afraid of death. She's like a midwife to the dying. I think I need to chat with her more about this, before she's no longer here to tell me her stories.
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