Category Archives: Suffering

Jesus in an Apron (Conclusion)

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Yesterday we heard from Mary’s friend Donna as she wrote about Mary’s terminal diagnosis and the sudden return of her cancer. Several days after receiving Donna’s email, Mary responded with some reflective thoughts of her own:

From: Mary Peterson

Date: Mon, Dec 15, 2014 at 4:17 PM.  Subject: Re: My love. To: Donna Baer

donna-bThank you Donna, for your beautiful email. I have read it over and over and so appreciate your clear, honest perspectives about death and dying.

When Nate was dying, I was privileged to be a witness to much of it, my main desire being to help and comfort Margaret. Her children were magnificent with their encouragement of their parents, but God allowed me to be the one with whom she was able to share her deepest concerns and grief… probably a combination of wanting to protect her children as well as have someone of the same generation to talk to.

One of the things we talked about was how similar death and childbirth are.  Nate moved steadily toward heaven, just as labor moves a woman toward delivery. We marveled at the process, as he slowly but surely moved through death to life.   I don’t know about you, but ever since I witnessed my first birth in nurses training, I’ve always considered it a sacred moment when a baby is finally born.

I was recently reminded of that again, as I had the happy privilege of being in the delivery room as our Johanna gave birth to her fourth child.  (“Weeping may endure for the night, but joy cometh in the morning.”) And like birth, death seems a sacred moment as well. As Pastor Lutzer says, God is powerfully present at that moment, when we need Him most, according to His promise to never leave or forsake us. I’m trusting Him for that.

Now, as far as your kind words about being Jesus in an apron…  Margaret thinks that would be a great book title, but I’m sure I would not be a good model for it.  I do agree the small things we do, just in the process of day to day living, can affect others, and especially those coming behind us. Through this cancer journey, I’ve been reminded of that over and over as people tell of something that impacted and encouraged them. The funny thing is, what they relate, I have no recollection of!  Perhaps the little things really are the big things?

Anyway, thank you Donna, for your sweet words.  God used you to bless this old heart!  And yes, I do look forward to serving with you once again, in the Kingdom.  God is good!

With love and gratitude, Mary

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“May we be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith, both yours and mine.” (Romans 1:12)

Advice from Mary

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A few days before Mary died, I was in my kitchen peeling apples to make two pies for her family. As I thought of my sister and the hundreds of apple pies she’d made over the years, I couldn’t help but smile.  She would “throw them together” while carrying on a complete conversation with her guests…. all of whom would stand around the kitchen counter, fascinated by what she was doing. She never measured anything, just operated on instinct. And her pies always turned out perfectly.

Then suddenly, while remembering Mary and her pies, I started to cry – not over the memories but over a baking question.

bits-of-butterI couldn’t remember whether or not I should put bits of butter atop the apples before adding the top crust, and I desperately wanted to ask my sister, the pie expert. But she was a few blocks away, lying quietly in her bed, in a deep sleep. And she couldn’t give me any advice.

After putting my pie in the oven, I went to spend time with Mary. She “let” me hold her relaxed hand, and I leaned close to her sleeping face so she could hear me. “This morning I couldn’t remember if I should add butter to my apple pie or not. What do you do?”

Of course she didn’t answer, but I continued. “Would bits of butter make it soupy or not? I really want my pie to turn out like yours.”

apple-pieAs she slept, I kept talking, reminding her of a camp auction years ago and a comical bidding war over an apple pie Mary had contributed. The winner had gladly paid $25 for it, testifying that he’d tasted Mary’s pies before and knew it would be worth the money.

Hoping Mary was silently giggling in her heart at that memory, I tried to make a soft giggle for both of us — but it wouldn’t come out. My vision was blurring again, and the process going on in front of me wasn’t the least bit funny. That’s when talking about apple pie suddenly seemed out of place.

So I just sat there, studying Mary’s pretty face, listening to her regular breathing. And flooding my mind were a hundred ways I was going to need my sister’s advice after she was gone.

granny-smithsThat evening my apple pie did get eaten, but the second pie never got made. That pile of Granny Smith apples is still sitting on my kitchen counter as they had been that day before Mary died. Without her advice about the bits of butter, I don’t even want to make it. And now that she’s gone, heavy on my mind is something else: How many other questions did I fail to ask?

And now it’s too late.

“The righteous and the wise and their deeds are in the hand of God.” (Ecclesiastes 9:1)

Now what?

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When someone precious dies, grieving first presents itself as a feeling of emptiness. It says, “Now what?”

loveAll of us knew what to do when Mary was sick. Several kept her medicine straight, administered it, and made sure she was comfortable. Others kept the kitchen clean. Someone else did laundry. Another cooked. Several cleaned bathrooms, swept floors, ran errands. We all took turns sitting with Mary, sometimes in small groups, sometimes one-on-one.

And suddenly she was gone. Even in those first moments after she’d slipped away, while still gathered around her bed weeping, none of us knew what to do next. “Should we stay here? Move out of the room? Where would we go? What would we do ?”

The simplest decision was muddled, and there were question marks on each face. It was as if our previous instructions, the many tasks related to Mary, had been put through a shredder and then tossed in the air. When we asked “Now what?” no one could answer – at least not then.

Within hours, though, the question had been answered…. because there was a funeral to plan.

That process was much like arranging a wedding in three days:

  • The announcement/obituary – where to publish it? when?
  • The printed program – which photos to use? what order of service? what kind of paper? where to get it printed?
  • The funeral home – which one? what size room? how many will come? or should we use a church?
  • The casket – who will choose it? what about an outfit for Mary? who do we give it to?
  • The pictures – poster board photos? with which pictures? Where are they? what about a slide show? who would run it?
  • The guests – who will do airport runs? where will out-of-towners stay? what about a guest book?
  • The service – which pastor, musicians, soloists, songs? who will accompany? what about microphones? rehearsals? a podium? will it be recorded? video taped? by whom?
  • The flowers – ordered from where? what type? how many?
  • The food – a snack or a meal? where? who will provide it? how much?
  • The family – does everyone have suitable funeral clothes? if not, who will shop? where? when?
  • The cemetery – which one? which plot? should there be maps at the funeral? who will print them? who will pass them out?
  • Where will the flowers go after the service? who will transport them?

At Mary’s bedside we had asked, “Now what?” God had answered with a list of new questions, and we had no choice but to get to work. Could this must-plan phase be his gift to mourners who long for an answer to the “now what” question?

Since all the tasks at hand still had a connection to Mary, each one was important. We all felt useful. And it was a relief to know what to do.

Now those 50 questions have been answered. All of us are slowly returning to our regular lives and the tasks that remained undone when we were busy with Mary and her funeral. The need to catch up on things will keep that perplexing “now what” question at arm’s length for a while. But eventually it’ll be back. When it hits again, I believe each family member will receive a specific answer from the Lord that’s pertinent to them.

And when the “now-what’s” have all been answered, the only remaining question will be, “How will we fill the big empty space that Mary left?”

I’m counting on the Lord to supply an answer for that one, too.

“Now what I am commanding you today is not too difficult for you or beyond your reach…. No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart….”  (Deuteronomy 30:11,14)