Mom died nine years ago today. Since her passing, I’ve made it a practice to read through the Psalms every September, using the Bible she used in her last months. And as I read, I remember.
I remember the light on her face as we recited the 23rd, 100th , and 121st Psalms one morning not long before the end.
I remember gentle words spoken in full awareness that time was fleeting and every moment precious.
Mom often said she wasn’t a teacher, but she was wrong. No, she never sat me down and tried to get me to learn something. But there are many ways to teach, and she taught by doing.
Whatever it was, however tough or unpleasant, she faced the task before her and took pleasure in figuring it out and carrying it through… “even unto death.”
In her last three weeks, as her heart and kidneys failed, as pleural effusion made it harder and harder to breathe, she continued to speak—sometimes only gasp–those gentle words of affirmation, affection, gratitude, and love. And THIS was her last lesson…
Even the dying have holy work to do… They can bless the living! They can strengthen those they leave behind. They can bear witness to the miracle, the wonder, the grandeur that is life… even as they lay it down and let it go.
I hope I will have both the courage and the grace… not just at the end, but every day until then.
I hope I will have the courage and grace to live in a way that strengthens others, that lifts and cheers and builds up.