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June 2020

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Death Does not Make Me Sad

Photo: Elizabeth Eberhard

I have a confession to make. Death does not make me sad. This is a change I’ve noticed in myself as I’ve grown older. The deeper I grow in my relationship with Jesus, the more I notice changes like this. I have faced the proximity of death in many ways in my forty-four years of life; from close encounters with my children to my own health scares. I have grown, been strengthened and changed by its proximity in every encounter. As I have pondered my lack of sadness, I often wonder if I am lacking in some human emotion that others have been granted. I find myself pondering at funerals; wondering at the person’s encounter with Jesus, the angels, and the Saints. Can they hear in purgatory the choirs singing from Heaven? Does the choir draw them upward? Are their hearts lightened of the burdens of this world? Are they at peace?

I am up this evening pondering this because death is knocking again at the door of my family. I received news this week that my mother is dying, and I once again found myself surprised that I am not sad, but rather reflective. I grew up listening to country songs of Jesus and the angels. My mom would play them very loudly and if I learned the song well enough, she’d let me attach the little microphone to the radio and sing along. Over the years, my mother has collected angels that might rival the heavenly courts, or maybe she is trying to replicate it; I am not sure. I do know, however, that my mom knows Jesus. Regardless of the scars inside and out that both she and I carry from our time together, this I am certain. My momma knows who Jesus is and that is sweet comfort indeed. That means to my heart, that no matter how long it takes she is going to Heaven. It means that one day I will get that long-awaited embrace with my mother that I crave. It means that we will one day be reconnected and healed, and death only brings us closer to that realization! I have the privilege of an amazing younger sister whose strength, love, and dedication have been a lifeline through these past years.  She longs for everything to be put together and well. We all do. My gift to her is this glimpse that one day, with the help of Jesus, all the messiness will be wiped away. Everything we could not fix here in life, if we keep our hearts aligned with the heart of Jesus, He will make well in Heaven and that life is eternal. This is such solace and comfort!

I have shared glimpses of my childhood, journey and parenting. No one’s life is as it appears in a snapshot, social media image.  We all carry wounds either physically or emotionally.  I have found it an interesting thought that scar tissue can attach itself to the bone; limiting and sometimes restricting movement. From a spiritual standpoint, I find that thought-provoking. When my son or daughter have had one of their surgeries, the protocol is to always rub at that scar to keep it from attaching. It is necessary to break down the sensitivity to it. Physical therapists have told me that it is possible to break up the tissue into smaller parts so that it does not adhere. We all have scars from the choices we have made and from events we have experienced. Perhaps a little spiritual rubbing is necessary in our lives. For me the practical application of this rubbing looks like a continued giving of my relationship with my mother to Jesus. I say yes to the Lord’s promptings in prayer and in action.  I have tried to make this relationship well and I am unable to do so, but I know the Lord can and will either here on Earth or in Heaven. I trust in this. He gave me this mother for a reason and she is his daughter as much as she is my mother. I give this struggle to him and then I pick it back up and this process continues day in and day out as I wrestle with my desire to make all things well. But in the quiet, which is where I sit right now, the truth speaks. In Revelations 21:5, we hear the words spoken “Behold, I am making all things new.” As my son went off to be a missionary this year, he struggled with a great feeling of unworthiness. The director of the program wrote him and his words resonated within my soul. “We know who and what we are getting and we said yes knowing and wanting all of you.” Jesus speaks that to our hearts from the cross. He died for us and he calls to us knowing who we are and wanting all of us. And so I am not saddened by death but rather I rejoice in the glory of what is to come; for me, for those I love, and for all whose hope is in the Lord. 

Family, Life, Marriage, Parenthood, Reflections, Special Needs

The Land of If Only

The slippery slope of comparing our lives robs us of the beauty of the suffering moment.

I’m wishing upon a star tonight. Leaning on the edge of my deck looking into the bright country sky where God displays his artistry, I sense his presence. Perhaps it’s not a star I’m wishing on, but rather a door I’m knocking upon. I often do that in prayer. I visualize my encounter with God. Tonight I’m knocking. It’s an unexpected visit. I hadn’t intended to go out in the crisp night air and pray, but just as I suddenly break into conversation with my husband, I felt the need to just start conversing with my Lord. 

            Today has been a full day. Every person within this large family of mine has needed me in big and small ways. From drinks of water to close the door and can I talk to you serious conversations, the onslaught of need was intense today and all the while I felt as if I couldn’t keep up. 

As a mom of many and adding in the special needs of my family, life is very fast paced and fluid. We have physical, occupational, assistive technology and aqua therapy. We have speech and sensory challenges. We have counseling and durable medical equipment appointments. I am constantly checking skin breakdown and bones are brittle around here. I am Chief Operating Officer of Eberhard Inc. and it can be a daunting job indeed. When you add in the schoolwork, outside activities and our commitment to place our church activities first, one outburst or unplanned trip to Urgent Care has the potential to throw the day into a tailspin.

My younger son recently broke his arm and the turn around time to the car was less than 7 minutes. My kids know this drill and executed the plan flawlessly. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed. It’s easy to wallow in the what ifs. It’s ever so much harder to accept what is and take the next step forward. A friend once referred to this danger zone of comparison as the Land Of If Only. If only I had a smaller family. If only I didn’t have kids with special needs. If only we had this or that. Comparison is the thief of joy says Teddy Roosevelt and I wholeheartedly agree. The slippery slope of comparing our lives to the lives of anyone else robs us of the beauty of the suffering moment. Some of my most powerful encounters with Jesus are in my suffering and surrendered moments, on my knees in my room by my crucifix or kneeling in front of the Sacred Heart of Jesus by our family altar. This is where Jesus heals me constantly. He heals my feelings of inadequacy. He heals my self doubt. He fills my heart with His grace like I fill my car with fuel.

            I am so gifted to know who I am and whose I am.  My creator and redeemer stand by my side with every breath and from that realization I draw my strength. God promises us enough manna for today;  and from that truth, we need to draw our strength and comfort. In our home, when momma looks overwhelmed and maybe a little teary-eyed; actually if anyone in our family feels this way, we call them moments. If you are overwhelmed, have lost your self-control, or made the wrong choice, it is just a moment; and our days are filled with moments; good and bad. Let our hearts be led by mercy; for others and for ourselves. 

            Traveling to the Land of If Only is not a mental vacation spot I advise.  Instead, I draw strength from the realization that as a mom of this incredible family of mine, God has revealed His plan for my path to heaven. I am sanctified in every “moment” by my “Yes Lord!” and my “More, Lord” (Both of which some of my children now call out loudly when things go a bit haywire.. I think they are a wee bit mocking me, but we plant seeds as parents right?) These are our fiats and the consistent reminder that by disciplining our minds and hearts to live in The Land That Is and see its transformative beauty, we can enter the gates of What Will Be with trusting hearts and the assurance of hearing the beautiful affirmation from Mathew 25:23 “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”