Final Hours
What do you do when someone you love is dying?
Now when Jesus returned, the crowd welcomed him, for they were all waiting for him. Just then there came a man named Jairus, a leader of the synagogue. He fell at Jesus' feet and begged him to come to his house, for he had an only daughter, about twelve years old, who was dying. - Luke 8:40-42
In today's Gospel reading, Jairus seeks out Jesus.
You may know how the story plays out. By the time Jesus arrives on the scene, the girl is dead, but he tells them to believe and she will be saved.
This past week, I was blessed in a way I didn't expect.
Our priest was away and I was called to go to the bedside of an amazing 93 year old woman I had never met before, Georgina.
Surrounded by four generations of her family, Georgina lay in her bed, taking in each breath as though it might be her last.
We prayed together, all of us, and in my silent prayer, I asked God for his help. I could feel the presence of the Holy Spirit in that room, but none of us could expect or imagine Georgina being restored to health.
I wonder sometimes. If we have enough faith, if we believe with all our being, what could be possible? But in this hour, at this stage of advanced dementia and alzheimer's disease, our expectations of a return are squashed by science, medicine and what we believe in common sense.
It just doesn't happen. Today, anyway.
No matter how many times we manage to prolong life and cheat death, though, eventually, we will cross over and that is what the family was facing at that moment.
So, as I spoke to Georgina, telling her how much Jesus and her family loved her, I placed my hand on her and caressed her brow. She seemed totally at peace.
It is in these final hours that we are blessed to be with the one we love who is dying, and yet, for some strange reason, we don't know what to do with this time.
I told the family how precious these minutes are, and I invited them to take the burden off their hearts, to unload any feelings of remorse, guilt and anger or pain, and to use this time to come to her and tell her all the things they need to say before she goes.
One by one, they went to her.
God bless you, Georgina for holding on, for giving your family time to tell you all they needed to say.
When I left that room that night, I imagined my own final hours and how wonderful it might be to hang on long enough for those I love to be there and lay their burdens down, to be able to leave knowing all had been said and done.
Each of us is a vessel of light for those around us. We carry God's Spirit in us, and so through us, all can come to be in His presence, if we let them.
We do not have to wait until we have permission to come, and we do not have to wait until we are in our final hours to invite others to come to us.
It is a ministry we share, to be the light, to help others see and unload all the baggage, all the pain, all the sorrow, all the bitterness and anger, so they can be free.
God bless you and keep you, Georgina, and thank you for giving all of us a moment to touch your cloak and be close to God through you.
More to come...