The Wait is Over

Shortly after my mother was set free from the trials of this life, I found myself sitting on the tailgate of my truck, the wind in my hair, and soft tears in my eyes. I could only imagine what I was doing; I had told someone I was going to wait on a family friend. But the longer I sat there, waiting on our friend to arrive, the more I thought about what I had told my unconscious mother before I went gallivanting across the countryside to lead my father to the hospice: “I’ll be right back; wait on me.”

Of course, Mom never minded very well. She passed about twenty minutes before I got back. As I contemplated this, I remembered the many hours I had spent waiting in the truck for her and also those late nights she waited for me to return from work. Or what about the nine months she waited just to know me?

And now, as I sat on the tailgate of the truck, I realized that I was waiting again. Waiting on the day I would see her again. Waiting for myself to at last grow out of childhood. And as I had done the entire year since we found out about the cancer, waiting for God to make everything better.

What I didn’t realize was that our family friend had already arrived. I could stop waiting when I was ready. In fact, if I was ready, I would understand that my mother never even left me, that I had already begun to leave childhood, and that God had already made everything better.

I’ve been waiting my entire life.

I can stop waiting now.

–Amanda

O Death, Thou Art Dead.

For those who don’t know, after a year-long battle, my mother finally won her fight with cancer. That is, she passed into the glory of God’s Kingdom and left this world behind. That was May 12, 2010.

Call me deluded, but I don’t see her death as a failure; I see it rather as a victory. I wrote a while back that God’s plan for mankind was always eternal life; death, for the Christian, is turned on its head. “For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” (Philippians 1:21) I really believe this.

Anyway, in the end, I think I’m very mixed up. Because I’m so happy for her; she can finally rest! But I’m so very sad for me; it’ll be quite a while before I can see her again. However, I don’t think she’s quite as far as my mind keeps telling me she is. As I told my friends, mom’s with God wherever she is, and I’m with God here and so she’s much closer than I could ever imagine. Praise be to God, the Axon of Creation.

–Amanda

“God Didn’t Say That.”

I told a co-worker my mom couldn’t move her legs anymore. I said it was pretty much the beginning of the end.

She told me a story about her mother who was told she would be confined to a wheelchair within a couple of years. My co-worker’s mother said: “No, God didn’t say that. A doctor said that. But God didn’t say that.”

I’ve been told over and over that God has a plan and that he’ll take care of me and my mom. And for a while there, I felt very cynical about it; if I keep waiting for a miracle, for God to swoop in and make the cancer go away, I might blame him when it doesn’t.

But my co-worker told me that story. And the social worker from the hospice said this isn’t the time to give up hope; rather, she added, it’s time to change what I hope for. And I hope God will give me and my mother the best days of her life. I have faith that he will.

–Amanda