Why is it so hard to talk about end-of-life issues? For people who believe in eternal security with God through Jesus Christ, discussions of death and dying ought not to be shunned. And yet, we do that.
After Nate’s 14th and final radiation treatment today, we met with his doctors and signed off. They’ve done everything they can for him, and our questions have all been answered, at least to this point. Saying goodbye was not sad, though, since it means we no longer have to drive from Michigan to Chicago and back, five days a week. Nate was thoroughly exhausted after today’s treatment but was pleased Lars had chauffeured us and shown interest in inspecting the massive radiation machine worth $3,000,000.
We made it back to our Michigan front door just as a Hospice Home Care nurse was arriving for our official sign-up. Pat and her team will help us navigate the next phase of our journey. She was efficient and experienced, plowing through a stack of paper work quickly. Although she addressed her presentation to Nate, he sat facing her with eyes half closed, worn out from the morning.
Toward the end of her explanation of services, she said, “Now we come to the hard part, the living will.” Pat waited patiently for the words “living will” to sink in. Then she said, “The question is, if you stop breathing, do you want us to resuscitate you by using a respirator?”
Nate didn’t have to think very long. Without saying a word, he shook his head “no”.
I rephrased the question and then said, “Are you sure?”
Again he didn’t say a word but with a somber expression nodded his head “yes” and reached for her clipboard and pen.
Sitting with us and listening to this question and their father’s answers were Lars, Linnea, Klaus, Louisa and Birgitta. “I’ll need two witnesses to sign as proof that Mr. Nyman’s signature is his wish,” she said. At least I think she said that. My ears were ringing and my vision was blurring.
Lars and Linnea stepped forward to sign under their dad’s curvy signature. As I became weak on the sidelines, both of them demonstrated great strength under enormous pressure. As for me, I was lost in the picture Pat had just described.
All of us cling to life. If things are going well, we eagerly want that to continue tomorrow. If things are going poorly, we hope tomorrow will be better. For us, the days are not getting better, and no one is telling us that they might. My new question is, when can we start talking about heaven? When will it not seem like I’m pushing Nate away to talk about his leaving us?
We moved through the remainder of our day with a busy dinner hour, the two grandbabies providing our entertainment, but I kept one eye on Nate. He’d lost all facial animation, all spark, even when little Skylar, just learning to talk, pointed to him and said, “Pa-paaaa!” with a lilt in her toddler voice.
Tonight, sitting on the edge of his hospital bed and holding his hand, I thought it might be time to crack open the door to eternity. As we do each evening, we quoted Scripture together. John 14 was on my mind, a message of comfort spoken by Jesus to his best friends:
“Let not your heart be troubled: you believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there you may be also.” (verses 1-3)
Nate closed his eyes, repeating only a word or two with me, but he made no objection and didn’t furrow his brow. I think the time has come to lift the ban on talking about his going away and shine a spotlight on his brightest hope. The truth is, he will go there soon, and there is no better place for him to be.
Margaret I have been so moved as I read your daily blogs. You write so beautifully.As my own father was dying of cancer he told my mother he could see a priest at the end of the bed. I am sure it was Jesus come to take him home.
‘And if I go and prepare a place for you I will come again, and receive you unto myself’
How comforting to know that at the end of our lives Jesus will be there to welcome us to the place he has prepared for us.
You are in our thoughts and prayers.
Amanda, Katy’s aunt.
I sense your family is right in palm of Father’s hand these days. He is right there with you holding your hands and holding up your arms and giving you peace and courage. Blessings to all of you.
I read this passage of scripture and thought it was right on:
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
As your Earthly sorrowful thoughts now turn towards Heavenly fantastic thoughts, you will feel the transition, even in your own body. It’s almost like Nate is going through labor, as a fetus, and is about to arrive in the next location, Heaven! The song, “Oh That Will Be, Glory For Me” just came to my mind. Just remember, we are all Eternal; we just get relocated.
Healing Hugs to all, on this cold morning.
The question probably ought to be “Why do we have to know we are dying to set our affections on things above?” Oh that we were daily living as you folks are with our eyes on Jesus. The best quote on this that I’ve heard is “Live as if the Lord is coming today and plan as if He’s not coming in our lifetime.” When my mom was dying I talked to her every night about the hope that the next morning she might be waking up in heaven.
“The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” (Deuteronomy 33:27)
Joshua 1:8 – says to’meditate on His Word day and night..the Lord, our God is with us wherever we go’…Holy Spirit IS God-in-action…guiding,comforting,encouraging..He will give you utterance and intercede for you as you have need.
When I was caregiving in Knoxville, He was my everpresent companion…and especially when I worked with Hospice patients…when I questioned God about why I’m doing this, He told me He was using me as an ‘usher’ into the next phase of their lives. It was no easier after that..but a comfort to me to know it was NOT IN VAIN for me to pray over them…even while I knew..they were in transition. Nate knows where he is headed…I think you should all discuss it openly as the spirit leads…what a blessing for you…you have this time. The Lord Jesus has you exactly where He wants you..in the pinions of His wings, closest to His heart. Ps.91 I would say to you…talk with Nate now..while you can.
Your (Margaret’s) posts are at once deeply disturbing and and uplifting, the parts that are each being obvious. But Nate’s courage, beautifully expressed by you, runs through the post. Sheri and I miss seeing him each weekday (and Nate being Nate on weekend days as well, when we, like him, but not nearly so often, made our way into the office). But we still think of him and talk about him each day, wishing the best that can be for him under the extraordinarily difficult circumstances here.
Bob Lehrer and Sheri Rothenberg.
There is a bittersweet comfort in knowing that when our journey on earth is over, that it is not the end, but only the very beginning of a far better life than even the happiest moments we’ve had on earth. We cling to the ones who have a timeline on their life for they have been such an important aspect of our life which no one else can fill. Knowing we will see them again gives us comfort and hope but with the sad question of “how long will that be?”
John’s dad spent a year and half of struggling to regain what he physically lost through a brain stem stroke which left him paralyzed yet in extreme pain.
One month before he passed away, he said he was tired of the struggle and was ready to die. We fought it for we wanted him with us and believed he could be healed. Each one of us needed to release him and as his daily caretaker, it was a very difficult thing for me to voice it to him. On the day that he was slipping away, the Lord led me to play some worship music which was like ushering him into the precense of God, feeling at peace.
These past few weeks, Nate had the blessing of seeing how loved and important he is to many people in his life and that he has made a difference to a multitude throughout his walk with the Lord.
Having felt that I too was close to the final hours on earth, I remember thinking that the next step would be God’s to take for me and I just needed to follow. He never lead me there but someday I will go as will all of us in God’s time. Those of us who are believers will go in peace and those we leave must accept and believe God’s promises as you quoted them. When my Dad pass, the one thing that I did not want to happen was to be the only one in the room. Well, God saw things differently and I was alone with him. I remember him struggling just to breath, fighting until I held his hand and told him go ahead dad, we will be alright. I don’t know if that made a difference but he never took another breath and he entered into the presence of God’s kingdom. I never thought that I would be in that position and never thought that I would feel the pain of loneliness. I remember after our time at the cemetary, I just sat infront of the grave and cried and really said goodbye in my heart. God triunphed that day and we that were left behind felt peace,at least I did. Nate too will follow God as he too takes that final step into God’s glory and you as a family will feel the pain of emptiness. Joy will replace that feeling after a while and God’s grace will supply all your needs. The memories of joy will someday over shadow the loss of Nate as a husband and a father. God’s blessing upon you during this time and I pray that God will allow each of you to be able to openly talk about that next step.
Dearest Nate and Maragret,
I just heard today about the sorrowful news. I cannot beging to tell you how deeply and completely my heart has broken. Nate, The nine years I worked for you we shared many life stories and experiences, and I want to share with you how deeply you have touched my life. I think of you and your family so often. Your radiant smile and joyous laugh will forever be etched in my mind’s thoughts and memories. I know that we will see each other again when we are both standing in the presence of the Lord. You are in the care of the Savior, and he welcomes you with outstreatched arms, a radiant smile to match your own, and words of: “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” I feel so blessed to have had you in my life Nate. All my love, Jen
Margaret: The most moving of your many moving posts. Via your words, I too sense Nate’s strength, clarity of thought, and, yes, leadership.Perhaps the many histories and biographies he has read — as well as his faith — give him a clarity of mind and spirit that we can only dimly appreciate.
Your daily blog is inspiring and uplifting, even as you go through this dark hour. I’ve forwarded your blog site onto about 30 people or so, and a few random strangers have found the same ‘light’ as they read your journey. You are showing God’s love to us…. Praying for strength and peace.
My dad told me once that a Christian oncologist said that Christians do a worse job of facing death than non-Christians. In spite of their assurance of heaven, they want to believe that God will heal them.
I am in awe of your courage – your willingness to embrace this painful reality and not shy away from it. While it is such a struggle, in the end you will be better for it because you will not have the painful disillusionment that so many have when they live in denial.
What a blessing your blog is – and in the midst of all the miracles (like God bringing your children together with you and Nate), let’s not forget the fact that you called it “Getting Through This” before you even knew how prescient that title would be.
And your blog gives you a platform to not only share your & Nate’s journey with your friends and family, but to be a shining example of God’s grace in hard times. Still praying for you 🙂
I’ve decided that I enjoy reading your blogs just as much as I enjoy reading Elisabeth Elliots’s books. Thanks for using your incredible gift of writing to bless and encourage others such as myself, even as you walk through these very difficult days. I praise the Lord for your amazing testimony and for giving us a small open window into your heart so that we can see your faith, your struggles and your love for our God who does all things well. Praying for you and your family every day.
“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”
Marni and Nate, Love you and continue to pray for you.
There are no words except WE LOVE YOU BOTH.
Marg, The symptoms you describe are all too familiar. Such a strange mix of pain and hope that dying in Christ brings. Like childbirth – you can relate to this more than most – both involve an ordeal of unknown duration yet in both, the ordeal is limited because of the joy of new life at the end. This is labor and delivery into eternal live and you have the priviledge to be Nate’s doula, helping and encouraging him through the labor. Then, through tears of grief, you and all of us with you, will celebrate his delivery into eternal life, in the “fullness of time”. May you sense God’s holding your right hand today saying “fear not, I will help you” Isa41:13.
When i saw Nate go down for bed last night i knew id be leavin early in the morning. I didnt want to say good bye because its not its see you later as what an old man told me once. Yeah cause thats what itll be for sure! I LOVE YOU ALL VERY MUCH! Thank for the time this weekend! Again im here if you need me. PEACE CASEY
I can’t get over your courage in everything, Mom. It would be so easy for you to hide away and cry, but you haven’t done that. You have received whatever people have given you with a grateful heart, and you’ve continued to post every day, no matter where you are. Amazing. I’m sitting outside right now, looking at Micah in his jumper. He looks so much like a Nyman boy, like Papa. Even his slightly irritated expression (he didn’t nap well today) as he studies the toys hanging around him. Ha! I miss you and I’m glad I’ll see you soon.