People I know who are religious might be surprised to learn that sometimes there is a doubt God
Then I think the events that led to the death of my mother, I see the great goodness of God toward us, and I feel all better.
It began with something that goes wrong. God often things I noticed. I care for my mother Dorothy Glidewell, for thirteen years, since he had a major stroke in 1988. The race took its capacity to move and right to speak, except for "yes" and "no".
In the last five years of his life he never left his bed. It has never had a decubitus.
I was proud of this.
And then me, in his heel, and would not heal. I supported, has tried all sorts of ointments, and only got worse. I had to ask for help from the Visiting Nurse Association, whose nurses began to come by twice a week. I never did recover, they said. Recovery would take six weeks of special medications.
Strangely, this was the first thing God Why would I need to calm reassurances of these visiting nurses in the days ahead.
Towards the end of April 2003, my brother David drove from Montana to Virginia for what became his last visit. As soon learned that her mother was on the way, began to glow with happiness, and continued to glow throughout his visit.
Only hours after he left, she apparently had a small stroke that took his ability to feed itself with a spoon. He began to sleep ninety percent of the time, as he had after his stroke in 1988, one of the reasons I decided I had had another.
This began a series of events that I think these are small, each of which took something. Soon forgotten how to chew and could have only soft foods. And, strangely, that was when I began to see more clearly the hand of God orchestrating his departure.
In this period had narrowed his world. No longer care about TV, no longer tried to be a good citizen who has kept up with world news. Even Andy Griffith lost its charm.
The signs are unmistakable: he was going. But I was not ready. Our life was so closely intertwined that it hurt to pull us apart. I walked in the hallway for days to come to terms with our separation to come. I was given the necessary time and finally came to terms with it.
I just made sure that the visiting nurse stepped in he told me that I thought my mother was having small strokes. The nurse interpretation was that the mother had to go to hospital for diagnostic tests. And the interpretation of the doctor when the nurse called him, was that the mother needs to go into the hospice program.
At that point I was able to tell the doctor that I felt ready for it, and he has agreed to set it up. But then I asked myself, I was ready, but it was the mother?
"If you think that very soon you're going to go to heaven to be with Jesus?" I asked.
"Yes, Yes, Yes!"
"It 's good that you want to schedule home?"
"Yes, yes!"
Strangely, that began a happy period for her. People have brought her flowers. Her sister made reservations to fly out to Montana to see her. And Mother understood why these things took place. Although the blows took a lot from her, always understood the important things. And nothing ever touched his heart with love.
Sunday afternoon brought its pastors, father Jim and Brenda Brinson. With them was Joe Maio, who hosts with great fidelity and love brought to the bedside of her mother every week. This time he brought a guitar, and he came to say goodbye.
Father Jim led a service of full communion with the music, just for Mom. But when the time came for the wine of communion, said, "You do not know how to drink more fluids."
"Take a teaspoon," said Brenda.
We put a little 'wine in communion spoon, a small fragment of the wafer floating in it, I flipped in the mouth of the mother, and she swallowed.
The presence of the Holy Spirit of God, full of peace and joy and love was there with us in the bedroom that day. I watched my mother, and she had what I can only describe as a white light on her. I saw this a few times in my life, people who were exceptionally close to God 'something you see with your spirit rather than your eyes, but on this occasion the presence of God was so strong that I could even see with my own eyes. Brenda has seen too much.
The apostle Paul wrote: "We all, with unveiled face beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into his likeness from glory to glory." That's what we saw on that day my mother valued the glory.
Mon 'the nurse visit gave us the hospice program. Tuesday brought the hospice nurse intake, which made me feel better than a lot of things. She said: "Let your mother wants to decide what to eat or drink. Do not push her."
"Not bad for her to get dehydrated?" I asked.
"No. We have found that dehydration does not care about a person who is dying."
And she was the arrest, we all knew.
Then Mother's world has fallen to us in communion as yogurt. She could no longer chew or swallow, but he knew what flavor of yogurt he wanted. And she knew me. She always knew the important things.
I would take a spoonful of yogurt and tip the spoon so that it flowed toward the back of the throat. Then there was a pause. A long, long pause. And then his throat moved. She swallowed that bite.
Then we started to bite the next.
All this took time. One-on-one time. That was what made her so happy.
That was how he spent Thursday morning, May 22, 2003, his last day on earth.
"Would you like strawberry yogurt?" She shook her head no. Had lost the ability to say "yes" and "no", but remembered nods and shakes.
"Would you like blueberry?"
She shook her head no.
"Would you like raspberries?"
His blue eyes were dancing with happiness as she nodded her head yes. It was just her and me and our little game, and she loved him. I will always remember the light in his eyes during his last waking moments on earth.
After eating, I put the head of the hospital bed back so he could take a nap. He went to sleep, and at some point in his sleep apparently had a major hit. I tried several times to wake her, but she was deeply unconscious, and I could not. Finally, at ten o'clock that evening, I went again, trying to wake her. As I stood beside the bed, I saw that her breath was coming more slowly than usual.
And as I've seen, his breath came more slowly. Then there was a little breath, and she was gone.
God took her, without pain, without distress. He was deeply unconscious all day, and the race could have taken her at any time, but it went during the two-minute where I was standing beside his bed.
I believe that now has a new ministry of prayer. We used to recite the prayer of Jabez for one another: "you would bless me and enlarge my territory." Mother fervently wanted to enlarge his territory: he was sick of sitting in that bed in that bedroom.
Well, now she is in a new territory.
I asked her once: "When you get to heaven, will keep praying for me?"
"Yes," he said. "Yes yes yes!"
Are his participation in this.