Trinkets and Treasure

Today was Mom’s birthday. Born October 6, 1927 - she would have been eighty-eighty. When I’d remind her about her age she’d just shake her head and say “88 is too old” then we’d talk about how Sarah (Abraham’s wife) had a baby when she was ninety. Mom would shake her head and laugh. “Oh Lord I don’t want to have no babies – I’d forget where I put them.” She was fun. Her toughness and humor endured to the end.

Had she lived we probably would have bought her a few earthly trinkets; but what is that compared to heavenly treasure? She spent her life storing up treasure in heaven. She believed each soul was valuable and eternal, because of that this day in heaven is filled with riches. She has no doubt seen individuals from each side of an ocean who gave her a joyful welcomed because she invested in them.

Had she remained on this earth we might have bought her flowers, but heaven must be filled with varieties of flower like this earth has never seen. This house is filled with stunning arrangements that were sent in her memory. I am glad there were those who sent flowers instead of donations. The fragrance filled the air – just a hint, no doubt, of the fragrance of heaven.

Today the sky was blue. The sunshine warm and there was a perfect breeze. 

(Created for A Harvest of Joy book events - sung by Michelle Garcia)

Mom had a long full life but I’m sure she never gave her earthly birthday a second thought. She’s in a place where His presence is the light that shines eternal. The song she now sings is of perfect rejoicing, she is not pining for this place of pain, sin and suffering.  She’s reunited with her redeemer and many dear ones that she loved. In the midst of their reunions they must occasionally fall on their face and raise their hands in praise to the One who is the center of it all.

It would have been fun to commemorate her eighty-eighth year. She and I were both goal-oriented and it’s a nice round number. But it did not happen and I can only celebrate that she is in a place where there is so much more to celebrate. 

In the end I wanted to make sure she knew she was loved. She entered this world in an uncertain time and place. Her mother died by the time she was a toddler and her father soon after. Those early years were filled with uncertainty about where she belonged and who loved her. At the end of her life she had no doubt, she belonged to heavenly redeemer and a loving family.

October 6 will no doubt remind us of Mom for many years. But she’s now received the greatest reward of all. And eternity is filled with treasure rather than trinkets.

The Cloud of Witnesses

One of my favorite verses is found in Lamentations, an entire book written by Jeremiah as a lament for the loss of his nation. I am struck by this incredible irony that in the midst of his grief and lamenting, he pauses and speaks of God’s faithfulness.  “His compassions never fail – they are new every morning  - Great is his faithfulness.”

It was the song we sung as we held Mom in her final hours. “Great is Thy Faithfulness, O God my father --morning by morning new mercies I see.”

We played Gaither videos and sang along with Bev Shea as he sang, “I’d rather have Jesus than silver or gold, I’d rather be His than have riches untold; I’d rather have Jesus than houses or land, Yes, I’d rather be led by his nail-pierced hand.”

This past Saturday I overheard Mom say to her nephew. “This has been the most precious journey. Don’t ever let go of Jesus’s hand.” She was weeping as she finished. “He is the best friend I’ve ever had, and he’s never failed me or forsaken me.”

A song I sang several times was “It is well with my Soul.” At that point I realized I was probably singing it more for me than her. The room was indeed filled with peace and it flowed like a river.

She was lucid and feisty up through Saturday. Sunday was a rough day and it was around 10:30 that she began to struggle for her breaths, we stayed close. I expected she would settle down as she had done so many times before. She was a fighter. It was all she knew how to do. At 4:30 in the morning my husband was at her bedside and by 5 we decided to wake Dad up. In her own way she was calling for him.

I know Mom is now part of the cloud of witnesses that Hebrews 12 speaks of – those who have finished their race and cheer us along as we run ours. I’m happy she is with so many loved ones who have gone before. There is grief but it is enveloped in hope.

Her beautiful journey continues, but I just won’t be an eyewitness as I have been for the past two years. I’m so glad she is free of pain and is dancing on the streets of gold.

Death has no Sting

Mom has been very weak since her two falls over Labor Day. That coupled with the pain and the new lung infection has been an unfortunate combination. We’ve managed as well as we are able, and on occasion we even get some smiles and chuckles.

This past Friday it seemed she might slip into eternity. She was unresponsive for more than fourteen hours and according to the hospice nurse all of the symptoms indicated that she might be in her final hours. We spoke to her, held her hands and told her all the things you’re suppose to tell someone who may be going away on a long journey. We assured her of our love, but also that we loved her enough to let her go. Around midnight she became responsive and the next morning the routine of life resumed.

Here are the topics that it is okay to discuss in front of my mother should you come visit. It’s okay to speak of death. You don’t need to whisper the word. It is just a long hallway that one passes through from this life to the next. As it is written in the New Testament, “Death has no victory – it has no sting.” Death is associated with sin. For the redeemed there is no sin and therefore there is no death.

It’s okay to speak of heaven. We believe in eternity and we believe in a place called heaven. A place where there are no sicknesses, tears and no good-byes. We don’t need a movie to convince us that this place exists. It’s as real as the air we breathe and eternity is just a breath away.

It’s okay to speak about those who have already left this world; friends and family and others that we may have known for only a few precious moments. The other night when Mom was very low we spoke to her of those she may see and we spoke of the many African friends she knew and loved.

Who knows all the songs that will be sung in heaven. There will be new songs and familiar songs, and I imagine there will be songs sung in every earthly language and dialect. So as the family sat around her chair we sang some of these songs. We played the Gaither Hymn videos and we sang. We even sang some familiar Yoruba songs. The below words beckons the Holy Spirit to come.

Wa Wa wa Emimimo (emjoloye)----Wa wa wa Alagbara ---- Wao wao wao (Emimimo)

This morning Mom told a friend that she’s ready to go, she’s weary and weak and she has no regrets. She told her this has been a beautiful life with Jesus as her closest companion. She just wishes everyone understood how sweet life is with Him.

This house is not a place of death: It is a place of life. The blinds are open and the sun shines in. The songs of the birds can still be heard and we are satisfied each morning with God’s unfailing love.

Spoiling of Goods

About a year ago Mother stumbled across the verse in Hebrews 10:34. The way it is written in the version she read was that they, “took joyfully the spoiling of [their] goods.”

Perhaps I should have started by telling the reader that lots things have broken since we arrived. A ceramic vase painted by a beloved niece (I fixed it and it’s hardly noticeable) several mugs, bone china cups, glasses and one crystal bowl. Why there was an increase in breakage after our arrival I cannot say. Some of it happens when Mom’s walker collides with cabinets. But I must claim responsibility for the rest. On occasion I rush too much or I overcrowd the dishwasher. Regardless of the cause, many of her treasured items have broken. When she read the above verse she laughed and announced, “This is it! From now on I will take joyfully the spoiling of my goods.” Now when something breaks we let her know that it’s time to rejoice, we just spoiled some more of her goods.

We moved a hospital bed into the den last Friday. It was not ‘spoiling of the goods’ as much as it was ruining the overall ‘feng shui’ of a home she had thoughtfully decorated. I watched a cloud move across her face when the hospice nurse suggested we order the bed. I knew she thought it would clash with the rest of the furniture. Finally she agreed with the understanding it was only temporary.

After the bed was delivered the house looked as if someone had turned it upside down. Furniture was stacked in all the rooms and the entire place was in glorious disarray. We shifted Mom from chair to chair and worked around her, by the evening we navigated around just enough to get her tucked in. On Saturday everything was in a new place and in some ways we like it more. Have you ever noticed that occasionally you must become undone in order to get anything done?

About thirty years ago Mom read an article that inspired her to use her fine china more often. The writer asked why the prettiest dishes are used only for display, as if we lived in museums. Mom announced that she would be break out the fine dinnerware for family and friends because every moment with those we love is special.  Since moving here we have tried to honor her wishes. We've even set the table with fine china as the four of us enjoyed a meal of leftovers.

These days of the journey really are about so much more than just a few fragile possessions. The accoutrements that fill our lives are fun, but at the end of the day all of it will break or vanish. I think about this as I see the reports of the forest fires and floods that have stolen so much from so many.  Jesus told us to “store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and rust do not destroy.” If we get our perspective correct concerning treasure then we are able to look joyfully upon the spoiling of all of our goods.” It’s what makes the journey rich with blessing.

The Next Generation

This weekend was a weekend of great-great nieces and nephews for Mom and Dad. The beauty of growing forward is realizing God is always doing something new for the sake of the next generation. I appreciate the fact that my mid-eighties parents are able to celebrate this from their recliners.  

The New Testament book of Acts tells us king David fulfilled the will of God for his generation and then he “rested with his fathers.” Mom and Dad fit in that category. They’ve done their work and now it’s time for the next generations. Mom has had some rough days but it was good for her to have future generations milling around her small house and scattered throughout the backyard.

Mom speaks about what God will do in the next generation. Who will he use? Who will be available for the next outpouring of his Spirit? God is not sentimental to the past, he tells us to build memorials so we won’t forget his faithfulness, but never does he tell us to hang on to relics or edifices for the sake of sentimentality. Even as the disciples admired the temple he told them it would be destroyed.

God remains the same. His rule and authority are unchanging. In our limited vision we picture God as old and grey because he is the Ancient of Days. But he is not limited by time or space. He reveals himself to each generation as the faithful unchanging God.  Perhaps the reason we are assured of his consistency is because the earth and its cultures are ever changing.

In each new generation God reveals himself and pours himself out in new songs. The story in Ezra three speaks of the Israelite’s return to Jerusalem after seventy years in exile and once there they restored the altars and rebuilt the temple. Upon seeing the new foundation some of the older priests began to weep because they remembered the glory of the former temple, but the younger generation rejoiced because they were getting ready to build something new.

As I write this entry Mom sits sedated in her chair, she fell twice this weekend, but she didn’t want to cancel the reunion. She enjoys the vibrancy of youth, and she understands the future is in their strong, tender and sometimes clumsy hand. Though she is weary, she celebrates the life that flows out of those who will rise up to worship the same God that she met sixty-four years ago in a little church in East Nashville. 

"Lord, you remain the same forever! Your throne continues from generation to generation." Lamentation 5:19

IF NOT

The usual Sunday routine around this house is that Wolter or I pick up 2 Cracker Barrel Home Style Chicken meals and bring them home. Mom and Dad split one and we split the other. Thanks to the generosity of friends on Mom and Dad’s 61^st Wedding Anniversary we still have gift cards to the Taj Mahal of the South – Cracker Barrel.

This past Sunday our discussion over lunch was about the three Israelite men who did not bow down to the image of Nebuchadnezzar. We spoke about the verse where they young men tell the king, “our God is able to deliver us, but if he does not we will still serve him.” Mom stopped us and said, “I once had a message about that verse entitled ‘IF not’”

This picture is a couple of years old. Mom & Dad

She went on to explain that God is able to do all things, but if he does not, will we still serve him? The world is littered with disillusioned former Christians who bailed on God when he did not meet their expectation. Mom’s message is that we must determine to offer a sacrifice of praise to God all the time. “In all things give thanks.” It is in the fire we are tested, it is in the fire that the bonds are burned off, and it is the fire that the Son of God is revealed.

She’s pretty much lived by this verse most of her life. She’s prayed for many circumstances to change, but God did not change the circumstances instead he changed her, and gave her the strength to face her circumstances. She’s prayed for healing and as of yet she has not received her complete healing. However, she has a better quality of life than most who have suffered from the crippling Arthritis that has been her companion for more than thirty years. Many requests God has either answered “no” or “not yet.” But her faith has not wavered.

Whatever God has not done the fact remains that he has fulfilled one all-important promise. He provided a sacrifice for the sins of all mankind. “God reconciled the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them.” The hands Mother lifts in prayer may show the effects of Rheumatoid Arthritis, but she begins each prayer with the words, “Lord, I thank you for the cross of Jesus Christ.” She understands that it is there where she received her greatest healing.  

Will we determine to handle the “if nots?” No matter what he does or does not do, we will serve him. We will not bow down to the systems of this world. We will enter his gates with thanksgiving in our hearts and we will enter his courts with praise.

Hebrews 11 speaks of the heroes of faith, known and unknown and towards the chapter’s end are these words, ‘All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance.’

Like most, this household has a grab bag filled with prayer requests, God has answered some and some have not yet been answered. But through every trial we are determined to serve Him. He is trustworthy and He is our anchor. If He doesn’t deliver us from it He will deliver us through it.

Fragrance of Life

The other day a lady from one of the local churches came to sit with Mom, as she left I complimented the fragrance she wore, I didn't recognize that it was the same one my Mom had worn for years. Even this last Christmas we managed to find a bottle for Dad to give her since the department stores no longer carried Jessica McClintock.

Historically Mom was always a sharp dresser who wore just a hint of fragrance. Never overpowering. I remember as a kid when I foraged through the recesses of her purse I'd often find a forgotten pack of gum or a mint. As I unwrapped it I'd catch a whiff of her perfume. It’s a memory that will stay with me forever – sometimes the gum or mint even tasted like perfume.

Mom remembers most of the devotionals she has taught over the years. And periodically she’ll share one with us. She’s had some good ones: The Value of the Second Fiddle, The Value of Salt, Bendable Spendable and Sendable, and one about a Teapot. She used it to illustrate that it is what is on inside that counts most because when we get ‘shook up’ it’s what is on the inside that will spill out of us. I’m also quite sure she also had a message on What Fragrance are you Wearing?

The passage of scripture was taken form 2 Corinthians 2:14-15 – “Now thanks be to God who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place. For we are to God the fragrance of Christ among those who are being saved…”

I’ve thought of this verse often as of late since many days have been filled with stressful challenges. I'm probably writing this more as a reminder to myself. There have been days when we’ve all had some ‘stinking thinking.’ It makes me think of perfume that has gone rancid as it sat unused in a bottle for too long. The secret of keeping the fragrance of Christ in our life is to keep it fresh. To be filled daily with a sense of His presence – to praise Him for He inhabits our praise. When we start our morning with Him he pours Himself out through us. It is only in Him that our lives are a pleasing aroma.

God's Sustaining Validity

Dad pronounces the word invalid as two words - “in valid.” He means it in the truest sense of the word.  “We can’t become in valid, Dot.” His way of thinking is that aging and weakness may devalue them. He fights weakness with every fiber that is in him and encourages my mother to do the same.

The very word, “invalid” or as dad pronounces it, “in valid” begs the question. Are we to believe that age, illness or other such physical limitations reduces someone’s value? The world may see it that way, but not God.

The prophet Isaiah expressed these words to God’s chosen, “Listen to me … Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”

As long as these jars of clay bear the treasure of God’s Spirit there is value. I read the story of a missionary who had pioneered the field on Bangladesh and suffered with Alzheimers in his final years. A young missionary from the same country visited him in the nursing home, but little was said between them because the disease had stolen his mind. As they sat together a news report came on the television about Bangladesh and suddenly the elder man threw up his hands and said, “Oh God be with the people of Bangladesh,” and then he began to pray in perfectly Bengali.

Recently, my friend and her mother told a story about a doctor’s appointment. Her aging mother had been baking pies and decided to take one to the young nurse from the doctor’s office. After arriving at the office they learned the nurse was working elsewhere that day. After the appointment ended they went to see the nurse and take her the pie. When the young girl came out and saw them she burst into tears and hugged my friend’s mother saying, “I needed to see you today – I just lost my mother.” As it turned out the pie was her favorite flavor.

To say that someone has lost their value just because they are weaker, sicker or older, limits God’s ability to glorify himself through all of his children. Each has sustainable value – there have been societies that have attempted to do away with the frail and aging – but these societies are not societies that acknowledge the sovereignty and power of a loving and living God.

Before Hospice came in we teased Mom that the reason she kept getting sick was because she was such a witness to the hospital staff. And now as a Hospice patient she continues to offer inspiration and prayer for those who are providing care. Each night and morning I overhear both of my parents in their devotions as they pray specifically for the lost. Perhaps it’s their prayer of intercession that keep them here on this broken earth.

I’m not sure why God extends life when it’s vigor is gone , but each life is valid.

Breath of Heaven

What is the most troublesome about Mom’s illness, COPD,  is that it steals away the breath of her life. We depend upon breathing treatments and oxygen to get her days started off right.

Mom and Charlotte Mazzu sing a duet 1970

How precious is the breath of life. How precious is the One who breathes life into us. When Mom was younger she had a good voice. Good enough that she invited to sing at special meetings. But even if she had never sung publicly she would be no less a singer.

She knew many sacred tunes and to my childish delight she knew some big band songs such as 'Chattanooga Choo Choo' and 'Let Me Call You Sweetheart'. I was sure I had the coolest Mom of all when she would pop out from behind the drapes and perform songs and sometimes a dance from long ago.

As anyone can tell you, to sing properly you must control your breath. Her heart broke about eight years ago when she lost her voice after a bout with pneumonia. Although she cannot sing for long periods of times, she still carries a song in her heart, and on occasion I can prompt her to join me in a short chorus or two.

Music is a very important part of this household. Sometimes we do the singing and at other times we play DVD’s or CD’s and within minutes we can see the soothing effect that the music has on the environment, especially when we play the familiar old hymns. Every Saturday Mom and Dad let their hair down and watch Lawrence Welk on PBS  (I think I’ve seen most of the shows.) Saturday nights from 6 to 8:30 has long been Mom and Dad’s date night and now Wolter and I are their chaperones.

This lyrics of this song resonates in my heart as I sing and pray it for Mom. Even now as she sits near me, I hear the oxygen machine gurgling and hissing, and I hear the words of the parts of this song.

I am waiting in a silent prayer

I am frightened by the load I bear

In a world as cold as stone

Must I walk this path alone?

Be with me now

Be with me now

                                                            Breath of heaven

                                                            Hold me together

                                                            Be forever near me

                                                            Breath of heaven

                                                            Breath of heaven

                                                            Lighten my darkness

                                                            Pour over me your holiness
                                                            For you are holy
                                                            Breath of Heaven.

Beautiful Feet

How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of [the one] who brings good news, Who proclaims peace, Who brings glad tidings of good things, Who proclaims salvation, Who says ... "Your God reigns!"

Mom has had Rheumatoid Arthritis for over thirty years, the medication has arrested the disease, but she had already suffered the crippling effects of RA in her hands and especially her feet. It affects her mobility and results in many secondary problems such as severe calluses and one very cranky bunion. I’d like to take a quick detour here – bear with me.

I love baby feet – I love how we snuggle and play with their feet. And there is just nothing cuter than baby/toddler/kid feet. But once those feet reach adulthood… Well ... may I confess to you that I’m one of those individuals who “has a thing” about feet. I’ve never liked to be touched by other people’s feet or to touch theirs. I know it’s an odd thing to confess in a blog, but at times this blog gets just a tad intense. I’m sure this confession will bring me grief from friends and peers at RFK camp, but there you have it. I’m happy to admire (or not) your feet in a pair of summer sandals, but beyond that keep your feet to yourself. Whew! Okay- there! I’ve said it! Moving on.

Since I came here in the fall of 2013 Mom has had many foot issues. She realizes her mobility is her life so we’ve carted her to the podiatrist multiple times. In the last six months she is not able to get out as before, and she has been in severe pain due to her feet.

I’ve quoted the verse from Philippians often in the past two years, “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” I prayed it the first day I offered to help Mom doctor her feet. In all sincerity I didn't think I could do it - At first I soaked them, then I treated the inflamed areas and put pads and bandages on her feet.

As I worked on her feet I thought of how beautiful these feet were in God’s eyes. She looked down at her feet and said, “They are so ugly.” With my husband at my side we quoted the verse. “How beautiful are the feet that bring good news.”

These feet once traversed unfamiliar African trails: these feet grew weary with endless labor in households where she served the weary travelers. Fear and pain never kept these feet from moving forward. These feet never ran from a challenge - the messenger these feet carried knew the news she brought was good. There were so many who were enslaved to the ideas propagated by village witch doctors who live, not just in the jungles of Africa, but also the jungles of modern cities. Bewitching citizens with deceptions and lies. In a world where most of the news is bad it is refreshing to think that there are still those who carry good news.

Mom still believes this news is good. She has grown old, but the news is as fresh and new as the day when she first heard it. It refreshes the soul and gives peace and joy. And though the road may grow long and the travelers weary, it has been worth all the sacrifices and the pain. Bearing good news brings joy and in joy there is strength. Indeed, “how beautiful are the feet of those who carry the good news.” 

Glory to Glory

After I posted my blog last week, Mom’s blood pressure dropped to sixty over forty, and she was unresponsive. I made the decision to call an ambulance because I knew her condition was due to medications I had been forced to give her. (The night before she had woken up with a coughing/choking attack). Though we understand the reason she is under hospice care is because they consider her condition end stage COPD,  I still felt I must call 911. The EMTs did not go to extreme measures to save her life, but they administered an IV and within minutes she became alert and responsive. The journey continues.

There have been some difficult days and I’m sure there will be more. I assure you we do not always respond like saints, but our mission here is to provide not just a comfortable and dignified environment, but to also provide a place of prayer and praise.

We pray a lot around our house. Dad prays for a miracle, Wolter and I pray for wisdom, peace and direction, and Mom just prays. She and Dad open and finish each day with prayer, they pray over meals and then there are the spontaneous prayer sessions that erupt when we least expect it.  

Regardless of the timing our sense of the prayers remain the same. We offer our prayers and petitions at the feet of Jesus while she actually sits at His feet. Each of her prayers begin with the words, “Thank you for Calvary and the work of the cross – thank you for your grace.”

I’m not sure of all that is in Mom’s heart and head these days. We take it a day at a time. Sometimes she sits in silence and when we offer to turn something on she says no. Other times she asks for music as she reads, a good bit of time she drifts in and out of sleep.

Whenever a prayer, song or a hymn begins she lifts her hands in praise. It seems she has a deeper awareness of His presence. The longer she lives the simpler it is. We are sinful and broken and we needed a savior to save and heal us. Though she and Dad have done many works as evidence of their faith, it’s not about good works. It never has been. It’s all about the Savior for whom the work is done.


(Hospice nurse Sharon plays harp for Mom)

There is a New Testament verse that reads, 'But we all, with unveiled faces, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory.'

The end of the journey should be just that: from Glory to Glory. We go from a glorious awareness of Him here until we step into His glorious presence there. We begin our song of praise here, but we finish it there. Here we know only in part, but there we will know and be fully known.

Grace Extravagant

Soon after Hospice arrived Mom asked if my husband Wolter was home, then she informed me she had something very important to say to him. Later that evening as we watched an insipid news report, she asked us to turn the television off because she needed to speak with Wolter. He looked my way, but all I could offer was a shrug. The room grew quiet as we waited for her to speak.

Her voice cracked with emotion as she began, “I’ve been A/G all my life.” I wasn’t too sure where we were headed, but she was the one who had convened the meeting. For the unknowing, A/G stands for Assemblies of God; it is the church my Mother was saved in at the age of fifteen - it was the church she grew up in. She became a lay minister in the church and later a missionary. Historically it was a very conservative organization that was deeply rooted in Pentecostalism and holiness.

She continued, fighting back the emotion. “When you asked to marry our daughter, we were hesitant. We told you we did not believe in divorce, and you responded, 'I don’t either.'” – You see Wolter is a divorcee. The big “D” word is etched across the history of his life. My own history was not the most pure and pristine, but somehow I had avoided marriage, divorce and possibly even jail - (smile)

At this point Mom could not fight back her emotions, with tears she continued. “I’m so sorry we ever questioned the power of God’s grace in your life. You have been the best son-in-law, and husband to our daughter. I’m so sorry we questioned you regarding your past divorces. God's transforming power is so much bigger than that. I’m still A/G and I’m loyal to our church organization. The denomination has taken a strong stand against divorce, but I thank God each day that you are my son-in-law. Thank you for uprooting your life to come to Tennessee with Tammy to help take care of us. Not many men would do something like that.”

Mom grabbed some tissues, and Wolter thanked her for her words and told her he still didn’t believe in divorce. He hates how it rips apart families for generations and generations. He understands the verse in Malachi different than most, when God says, “I hate divorce” it is with grief in his voice not finger-pointing judgment.

I hope when I’m as old as Mom and I reach my journey’s end that I will still be learning the lessons of God’s extravagant grace. We all sat there in a silent room awed by a God who patches together the messes of our lives and weaves a beautiful tapestry.

Help, Hope and Hospice

We were weary, each time one fire was quenched another erupted. It seemed like an endless battle, night and day. Day and night. And then they came; we gazed to the distant hills and saw the strong figures mounted on even stronger horses. We exhaled as a sense of relief poured through us. The calvary had arrived - we no longer had to fight this battle alone.

They carried an unfurled banner with the words; Hospice. They rode up, dismounted and put an ensuring hand on our drooping shoulders. The reinforcements had arrived.

We believe in divine intervention for healing, or divine intervention for anything else the sovereign God chooses. However, right now it seems this respiratory illness is unrelenting. To have a team of faithful servants come into our home and help is greatly welcomed. Caris - Favor, grace and charm. This allows my mother to progress towards the finish line with favor and dignity.

Mom is still sharp for the most part. The days when she is most confused is because of the medication. Her body is frail and weak, but her spirits are strong. Each day she give us impromptu devotionals and speaks about this beautiful journey. She speaks as though she has reached her journey's end. "We are but sojourners and pilgrims - just passing through."

Recently as she pushed her walker down the narrow hallway, she said, "Today, I feel brand new. Nothing is hidden between me and God. There is no shame. I'm a brand new creation. Just as I was on the day I first asked him to join me in this journey." 

She remembers vividly when she invited Jesus Christ to be the primary navigator of her journey. It was also the day she discovered the depth of her alien status in this world. This is not her land, she's just passing through, an ambassador from another kingdom. How and when this journey will end, we cannot say. Some are closer to that end than others. It has definitely been and still is a great road trip!

PS - This blog is about my mom's journey's end - she and my father both have health challenges, but if I were to write a blog about him it would be entitled: This Cowboy's gonna go Down Shooting!