Four Years

Four Years.  Today marks four years since I walked into that Hospice room and sat with her … since I whispered love and encouragement in her ear between goodbyes from people who loved her so much that they could barely breathe between tears … since we last communicated through a look, one last moment of eye contact before her eyes saw things I haven’t yet seen. 

It’s been four years and I am still unpacking what I learned from that experience … from her life and her death.  Soon after she died and every year since on this day I have written about it and I have said that watching her die pushes back on all my fears about death.  Those final moments were peaceful, full of love and beautiful.  But also watching her live taught me a lot about how I want to live.

Some days I find myself caught up in worry.  I worry about something happening to my kids and I worry about something happening to me or my husband.  Some days I let the fear take up more space than it should and my thoughts are colored by anxiety and “what ifs.”  The only way I can get back to a place of peace is through prayer.  Prayer where I admit I am not so good at prayer - honest, vulnerable, messy prayer.  And when I begin to hear the rational thoughts again, when my mind settles enough for breathing and wisdom I think about how Laura lived her life when her body was falling apart despite all her best efforts and the efforts of her doctors.  She lived a life worth fighting for.  With her head pounding from another round of chemo she cherished moments she could watch her children playing, hugs from loved ones and glimpses of the Holy Spirit at work within and around her.  She was still planning fun things, sharing moments of closeness with friends and loving everyone she could.  When there were so many very real reasons for her to shut down emotionally, let go of hope and drown in sorrow she didn’t.  Even until the day she died, she held on to her faith and in her vulnerability and brokenness was so incredibly strong. 

Four years later and I am far from the places and faces she knew, but I still feel her in my heart.  I remember her fierce support and belief in me on days when I doubt myself, I remember her unconditional love for her children as I kiss mine goodnight and I try to honor her by being open, vulnerable and faithful. 

My husband asked me when I wanted to preach next and gave me the choice of a few dates.  I picked June 30 right away.  I picked it because I knew my heart would be softer and more open today and also because when I preach I feel her close to me.  She is the Woman at the Well on my stole, the sassy, honest, questioning, strong woman who knew Jesus.