Till We Are Home

A week ago, my mother left this earth and was received into the arms of her Savior. Though somewhat expected due to her battle with Alzheimer’s, you’re never ready to receive that call from hospice to say she is in her last days. 

The call came through last Monday and soon we were in the car heading to the memory care facility where mom lived for the past few months. I wasn’t ready to see her in the state she was in. 

We arrived with my brother and his family, then sat with mom while she lay in the bed. She slept through some of our visit but did wake at one point when we spoke to her and physically (though not verbally) responded to us all. Our family sat with her for some of her last days doing much of the same: praying over her, singing to her, remembering stories with her. 

At one point, I played Neil Diamond’s song, “Sweet Caroline” for mom which was one of her all-time favorites. When I was in college, Neil Diamond came to the area on one of his tours, so mom and I bought tickets…I wanted to see mom “in action”. For me, it was a bit crazy watching all these grown women – including my own mother – go “teenage girl crazy” over this not-so-young man. What a memory I’ll always cherish and chuckle about. 

My brother and I grew up in a single-parent home after mom and dad divorced when we were toddlers. She had the difficult job of raising two boys all on her own, working sometimes two jobs just to keep us sheltered, clothed, and fed. Mom didn’t complain too often but I know the burden had to be so heavy on her. Her driving motivation was love toward us and a desire to see that she provided as much as she could even when it hurt. 

Mom built a home for us where we didn’t question her love for us nor her care to provide for our needs and even many of our wants. It wasn’t easy as I’m sure my brother and I gave her enough heartache over the years, but she didn’t give up. Instead, she continued to model love and sacrifice for us. These are the hallmarks of my mom, the legacy she leaves behind.

The thing I’m most thankful for, though, is that sometime in her last decade of life, the Lord grabbed hold of her. Growing up, we believed we were Christians though there was zero fruit and zero evidence of faith, not even church attendance. Our belief was based on a cultural normativity to Christianity here in the South (at least in the past). After our conversion, my brother and I would often talk to mom about her faith to which she’d point back to experiences in her childhood and young adulthood as evidence. 

Yet, after years of prayer and dialogue, the Lord began moving her to a place where her heart was softened and He opened her eyes to the truth of her lack of salvation and need for Christ. While attending Bible studies and then a godly church, the Lord removed the scales from her eyes and heart to see and behold Him, giving her new life in Christ and becoming a believer. Through that church, she was discipled and grew in her faith. 

I’m thankful for her true conversion later in life and the many conversations I could have with my mom that never before was possible. I was thankful to see a change in her, moving away from some of her sinful habits and embracing a life in Christ that only came from a new heart for Him. 

Sadly, as I look back on it now, it seems her dementia/Alzheimer’s began to take hold just a few years later. Little bit by little bit, we noticed changes but weren’t sure what was happening, until in the last few years it became clear something changed. Mom battled through this horrible disease, but the Lord never let her go. 

He always holds us fast, even if we can’t realize all that’s going on.

I’ll miss my mom so much. As the weeks roll on and even with Thanksgiving and Christmas coming around this year, I’m sure the reality of her departure from this life will hit hard. Add this to our continuing grief over losing our youngest daughter. The reality of my emptying table during these seasons is becoming sharper and sharper. 

Yet, as I wrote about this very reality last year, my emptying table points me to an even greater reality of what awaits. In the end, because of what God has done for me, for my family, my little girl, and including my mom, my goodbye to her last week is not a final goodbye. It was only a goodbye to her for her time on earth. 

One day when I, too, depart from this land, I will awake at my Savior’s side, embrace the One who saved me, and become complete and whole. Then, when the end of ages comes, He will stand at the head of a massive table – a table that won’t empty anymore, but will be full – to inaugurate eternity future with all those who put their faith and trust in Him while on this earth. Seated near to me will be my bride, my children, and my mom…and we will all raise a glass to our conquering King who alone can make that a reality. 

Yes, I’ll miss my mom. But my last goodbye to her is not the final goodbye. And it’s never a final goodbye for any of us in Christ. We can have hope that it’s just a momentary parting…

Till we are home…