A stunning 16-year-old . . .
And a stunning 90-year-old. This photo was taken by my sister Laura on Mama’s 90th birthday, January 7, 2020.
Today it’s been a year since my mama took her last breath on earth.
Though it was truly a mercy when her increasingly labored breathing came to an end, the eerie stillness which followed 3:49 am in the darkness of April 14 was surreal. Even more surreal was seeing how quickly her now non-beating heart and breathless lungs sucked the warmth of life from her earthly residence.
It was what we wanted, but simultaneously didn’t want. At 90 years and 3 months of age, she had just 18 days earlier survived a pulmonary embolism, which should have stopped her beating heart on March 28.
But God graciously gave us almost three weeks longer with her, the first five days of which were spent in a lonely Covid-locked-down hospital, after which she was released to hospice care April 1. Overriding concerns related to Covid, I flew to San Diego on April 3 and joined my daughter Lisa to live with Mama for however many days she had left. Twelve days later, she passed into the arms of Jesus.
There have been a million moments in this past year when I’ve wanted to call her, send her a photo, visit her, massage her feet with lotion, watch “Jeopardy” or “Wheel of Fortune” with her, ask her a question, reminisce with her, laugh with her, serve her her morning coffee, share a snack with her, take her to Costco or on another “field trip,” talk football with her.
I wanted to let her know that Alex Trebek (iconic host of “Jeopardy”), passed away. And that Drew Brees retired from her beloved New Orleans Saints. That Benjamin and Kirsten Watson are managing their crew of seven children well. And that little Hudson Solder is still cancer free. I wanted to tell her that her dear friend Fred Mullins passed away just before his 101st birthday and that Gabe and Kari’s church planting efforts in Oakland, CA, are going well. I wanted to tell her that “The Family Table” cookbook was published, featuring several of her recipes, and that “her” rolls were baked in dozens of homes on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. I wanted her to know that DC Washington had sung her favorite “The Blood Will Never Lose Its Power” at her zoom-memorial service.
With each “news” item I’ve wanted to share with her, I’ve realized that none matters to her. “And the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace” (lyrics penned by Helen H. Lemmel in 1922). None of what I consider newsworthy today matters to her! She is living in the “light of His glory and grace” and all things connected to earth have grown “strangely dim."
That may seem harsh in some regards, and yet the great comfort in that truth is the flip side: that there are also many things that have happened in this past very difficult year for which I’m thankful she’s been spared knowing. The silver lining of “and the things of earth will grow strangely dim."
I’ve spent much time since her death pondering her legacy and its impact on me.
She died as she lived.
Her lifelong character and the essence of who she was and how she lived was impossible to miss during those last 12 days of her life.
1. She was kind. Everyone was treated with kindness by Mama. From the front desk clerks at her building, to the check-out personnel at the commissary, she was kind. She gave no preference to anyone for rank, profession, or status. She treated everyone with the same outgoing kindness, met no strangers and had no enemies.
Her very kind and loving housemate, Karen, was a gift during Mama’s last year of life.
2. She loved God’s Word. For the first five of her last twelve days, she insisted on holding her pink-covered Bible and reading the daily devotional aloud to Lisa and me. It wasn’t easy for her to hold the Bible at that point, nor for her to read it, but she did both until she could no longer. And then she made sure we carried on.
Reading devotions faithfully, right up til the end.
3. She loved worship music, ranging from her favorite hymns to beloved contemporary worship songs. “These are the days of Elijah” was at the top of her list and we sang that together at least once a day. Many nights, when my brother would join us for the evening, we’d have a hymn sing and she loved that. One of the nights she was having trouble sleeping, I climbed in bed with her and proceeded to sing for two hours straight (one of the benefits of having been raised in the church singing all four verses of great hymns). At the end of two hours, when I had run out of songs, I asked her if she was ready for me to stop singing. “Yes!” She replied, not missing a beat. I decided to be relieved rather than insulted. :)
This photo is of the Easter Saturday hymn sing via Zoom, which was a great idea but… To say we even made “a joyful noise” would be a stretch, given the lack of synchronization of the 10-15 screens on the Zoom platform. In fact, Mama “fell asleep” for about 5 minutes in the midst of it and we feared the cacophony of sounds had killed her. Fortunately it hadn’t and she was grateful for the hour spent with her beloved family, even if by screen.
4. She was thankful. Always thankful. Every nurse, hospice worker, and care attendant who came into her room during those last days was thanked, by her, with sincerity. She was beyond grateful to have Lisa and me with her 24/7 her last two weeks, in addition to having several of her local children in and out during the days. She thanked us profusely, regularly, in spite of her own pain and ebbing life.
Sweet Lisa snoozes with Mama during a restless night.
5. She was concerned about others knowing Jesus. Mama had a burning desire that those whom God brought across her path would know Jesus. Dear friends and neighbors, extended family members, medical personnel . . . she cared about their eternal destiny. One of the “angels” who helped tend to her during her last three months became very dear to her very quickly. She had many conversations with this young woman during the short time their lives connected, and often those convos touched on spiritual truths. During her last week, when she was wondering why she kept waking up in her own bed instead of the arms of Jesus, she confided in me, “I think part of the reason I’m still around is because of the talks I’m having with her about Jesus.”
Sweet Angel Keshia . . . she so lovingly and generously served Mama for the last few months of her life.
6. She loved her family. Every day of her last twelve, she continued her years' old ritual of speaking with each of her seven children at least once a day, via Face Time. Though brief, each conversation included her asking questions about how they (and their children and grandchildren) were doing. She loved each one of us deeply, accepting our uniquenesses and respective journeys with love.
She loved connecting with each of her children via FaceTime a couple of times a day.
7. She wasn’t afraid of death. One of her last full sentences, about twelve hours prior to her death, she said, “Please answer my prayers, Lord. Please bring me home tonight and let me awaken in your arms.
Sweet Mama, He heard you and answered that prayer.
As I write this on 4-13, it’s no small coincidence that she lived her last full day of life on 4-13-20, with the words of her life verse, Philippians 4:13, on her lips. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."
And she did.
How blessed we are to have had the privilege of calling her “Mama.”
All praise is His.
