Category Archives: Prayer

Remembering the Funeral

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Early this morning, taking advantage of the extra hour afforded by turning back the clocks, I spent some time thinking about Nate’s funeral. I read the blog post from a year ago, then asked God, “What do you want me to think about all this?”

His answer came in a millisecond. “Study My words, not yours.”

It’s always a relief when God answers definitively. On November 7 last year, I ended my blog with a quote from Isaiah 61, because it referenced a “spirit of heaviness” (KJV), which was what I was feeling then. Those verses were God’s answer on that day as to what I should be thinking, so I decided to meditate on that passage.

The words describe Jesus, who would “comfort all that mourn,” and having buried my husband that day, I needed comforting. Lying in bed behind a closed door that night, I asked God to shape my thoughts, and the phrases from Isaiah (see the end of this post) wrapped around me like the layers of a soothing quilt.

A year ago I didn’t study the verses or look into their Hebrew origins but simply took them at face value and accepted the comfort they gave. On a night when I might have tossed and turned until the wee hours, I fell right to sleep.

This morning, one year later, I decided to take a closer look at the Scripture using my Strong’s Concordance. What was it about those phrases that had brought me such comfort? Here are the meanings:

  • to bind up = to wrap firmly (like an Ace bandage that feels good on an injury)
  • to comfort = to feel sorry for (as God shared in my sorrow)
  • beauty for ashes = to remove despair and substitute brightness (transforming a weary face into a rested one)
  • oil of joy = to anoint with costly, perfumed oil (symbolizing fruitfulness to come)
  • garment of praise = to feel like singing again (a song God would supply)

In the year since Nate’s funeral, God has done all of those things in multiples, which makes me want to be part of the last phrase of Isaiah 61:3, “…that the Lord might be glorified.” In addition to God’s generous comfort on that night a year ago, he also placed an opportunity in front of me.

It was as if he said, “Would you be willing to show others how you leaned on Me in your time of need? Would you let people watch Scripture work for you? Would you testify to the profound things I’ll be teaching you? If you’re willing, this will bring Me glory.” I said “yes”, and sharing honestly throughout this year has brought me joy.

When I looked up today after studying Isaiah 61, it was 12:25. Even though I’d had an extra hour, I’d completely missed church!

But then again, not really…

“The Lord has anointed Me to… bind up the broken hearted… to comfort all that mourn… to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness… that the Lord might be glorified.” (Isaiah 61:1-3)

One Year Ago: The Last 24 Hours

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I look back at last year’s calendar with its description of our final day with Nate and shake my head. It was a dreadful yet holy day, a family time set apart like no other. What stands out in my memory?

  • First and foremost, Nate, struggling with pain but then responding well to the morphine drops, liquid relief from the agony of failing organs.
  • Hospice nurses, three in particular: Margarita teaching us how to use atropine to lessen the fluids in Nate’s system; Sonia showing us how to swab his mouth, moisten his lips, cool him with wet cloths and speak soothingly; Dee, spending the night on a stool near Nate, then tenderly bathing him on his last morning.
  • Singing, praying, reading Scripture.
  • Nate finally resting without pain, no knitted brow, no agitation, a relaxed hand as I held it.
  • Family love and gratitude expressed through tearful goodbyes.
  • The Holy Spirit’s presence with us in our dimly lit sanctuary, with Nate in his hospital bed as the centerpiece.
  • Nurse Dee’s comment, “During the night, he looked like he was getting younger and younger.”
  • Nate’s passion to hang on as long as he could, not leaving us until there was no other choice.
  • God and Nate deciding his life had reached its finish line and Nate’s walking into eternity with the Lord.
  • Our aching hearts struggling to believe what had happened, crying, praying, loving.
  • Watching a new nurse officially declare he was gone, released from his earthly body-bondage; listening to her words of comfort as she shared her Christian faith with me.
  • Disposing of Nate’s many drugs with Hospice, grateful he had no further need for them.
  • Watching the funeral home director and his assistant carry Nate out our front door, but being sure the real Nate had left two hours before that.
  • Realizing God had dramatically healed Nate of a very bad back and pancreatic cancer!

Although I’ve thought about these same details a million times during the last 12 months, tonight, for a change, I’m not crying. And I can’t explain it.

Tomorrow might be a different story, but for now, I can walk among the memories and be drawn to the blessings. During this year, God the Father has taught me so much about leaning on him that I’m continually aware of his nearness and can honestly say he’s my most precious Friend.

Today Louisa shared her thoughts about missing her papa, and we agreed there would be many future days when we’ll wish he was with us. Nothing, however, can spoil the unending togetherness we’ll have in eternity. The disconnect is only temporary.

Most likely we’ll never get the answer to her important question, “Why did he have to die when he did?” Instead, through his death, we’ve been given an opportunity to deepen our relationship with God. He had a reason for taking Nate when he did, a good one, and we can choose to trust him on that. Then, as trust increases, we’ll wonder “why” less and less.

In the mean time, we can freely look back, counting on God’s comfort to help us well into the future.

”Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4)

The Journal: Gratitude and Grace

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While Nate was struggling with his cancer, he often thanked me for helping him. He’d notice every little favor and then voice gratitude: “Thanks for reheating my coffee. Thanks for bringing me my good pen. Thanks for getting the mail.” Frequently he’d go a step farther and add, “You’re a good wife.”

I recall one moment as his physical strength was waning rapidly. I’d assisted with uncapping his toothpaste, getting him dressed and settling him into his lazy-boy. These mini-tasks were not difficult and took only a few minutes. After he was comfortable, I said, “Can I get you anything?”

He grabbed my hand, looked up at me with aching eyes and said, “What does a person do if they don’t have someone like you?”

It was an important moment as he acknowledged his helplessness, a guy who’d always run his life on fast-forward but now couldn’t even pull on his own socks. To be the helper is to demonstrate strength; to be the helped is to accept weakness.

Much of being able to handle serious sickness is coming to a place of need, then willingly accepting it. Nate could have morphed into a grumpy old man but instead became increasingly grateful.

How does an independent person, particularly a man who has been the head of a household and the one to lead, humble himself to be served? In Nate’s case, I believe the only explanation is that he and the Lord had been working together behind the scenes.

After we learned Nate had something wrong with his liver and pancreas, but before we knew it was cancer, I wrote out a prayer for him:

“As a result of the many difficulties Nate’s had and continues to have, I pray he will come to know you, Lord, in ways he never has before. Cause him to see new and spectacular things in your Word. In his feelings of weakness may he not despair but seek comfort from you to carry him through this misery. May he feel deep contentment and peace after placing himself in your care. Please do your heart-and-mind work within all of us to pull us through this health crisis.”

I realize, in looking back, how dramatically God answered those requests. Nate now “knows the Lord in ways he never has before,” because he’s in his very presence! He has “seen new and spectacular things” about God’s Word… because Jesus himself is the Word (John 1:1-2), and Nate is literally in his company! I prayed God would “carry him through this misery,” which he certainly did, bringing him straight into paradise! I asked that Nate feel deep contentment and peace in God’s care, a perfect description of his current heavenly existence. And Nate has been literally “pulled through his health crisis” into physical perfection.

He made a dramatic personal transformation during the six weeks he had cancer. He changed from a nervous, fearful Type A into a mellow, accepting man of tranquility. Because of steadily increasing pain and daily losses, this change goes against all logic, pointing instead to God’s work in Nate’s life.

Just as Nate was thankful for my help back then, today I am thankful for his excellent example and for God’s direct involvement in causing it.

“ ‘Because your heart was tender and you humbled yourself before God when you heard His words…. and because you humbled yourself before Me…. I truly have heard you,’ declares the Lord.” (2 Chronicles 34:27)