After 3 days of excruciating pain, I held my 98 year old father-in-law’s hand as we prepared to move him to the hospice floor of the hospital.  The meds they gave him had eased his pain and his sleep was no longer fitful.  He was more at peace at that moment than I had seen him in several years.  Not since before mom’s fall, that marked the end of their independence, had his brow been so smooth – no longer furrowed with worry, anger or frustration.

His nurse came and we began the move to the fifth floor for what would be the last days of his life.  My husband had gone home a few hours before, exhausted from the emotional assault of watching his father suffer.  We had made the decision to begin hospice care before Paul left, grateful that there was finally something someone could do to ease dad’s suffering.

I took a separate elevator so the staff wouldn’t be crowded in case they needed to do anything for dad.  When I got off the elevator, I saw them getting off at the same time and noticed his color was unusually yellow but his face was still calm.  I went on ahead to check in with the nurse’s station but when I looked back down the hall, I saw dad lying in his bed there in the hallway, with the transport staff and his nurses looking very solemn.  Debbie waved me back and said, “Pam, we lost him just now”.

Unbelievably, my first response was “That’s Wonderful!”  All I could think of at that moment was my precious father-in-law running into the arms of Jesus – no pain, no worry, just absolute joy.  In that very moment, faith realized!  How wonderful, how marvelous!

When I saw the look of surprise on Debbie’s face, I said, “It is wonderful, isn’t it?  Dad’s not in pain anymore”.   She very kindly said, “yes, it IS wonderful for him.  Is Paul on his way?”  That reminder brought me back to the business at hand – telling my husband that his father and best friend had died.

They took dad on to the room they had prepared for him and I waited for my husband to arrive.  When Paul got off the elevator, I told him his dad had gone home.  Though uttered more quietly, his reaction wasn’t much different than my own,   “Good for you dad” he said as he nodded his head.  “Good for you”.

We made the calls to family.  When the hospital asked us if we would like some time alone with dad, Paul very graciously explained there was no need – his dad wasn’t there anymore.  Oddly there were no tears yet, for either of us.  Just sheer joy for dad’s home going.

Four months later, I got a call from the nursing home letting me know Paul’s mom had joined dad in heaven.  Paul had been with her moments before – hadn’t even had time to get home yet.  Again, our responses were joy.  Mom & dad were together again and, this time, she knew who he was!

Dad wanted his remains to be cremated so he could be buried with mom.  We buried them together in the cemetery in our little town, next to precious family that had gone before, but again, it wasn’t a sad day for us.  There was unexpected laughter and the sound of the train going by as the dirt went back into the grave.

Three weeks later when we were setting up pictures and mementos for the memorial service, the tears finally came.   Still rejoicing for mom and dad, we recognized the void left in our lives at their passing as we talked about all they had accomplished and the people they had touched.  At the service, Paul spoke about his parent’s lives and what they had meant.  He shed tears of thankfulness as well as grief as he spoke of their faithfulness to God, to each other and to our family.

Was our family’s response to death typical?  Hardly.  Even the hospice nurse wasn’t quite sure what to do with “That’s wonderful!” and not everyone understood our decision to wait until mom died and have just the one memorial service.   We explained that it was dad’s wish to do it that way.  They were married for 70 years; how could we celebrate his life without celebrating hers?

The funeral home staff and the workers at the cemetery weren’t quite sure what to do with our laughter either. They smiled, but it seemed awkward for them.  We knew something about mom and dad, though, that they just didn’t know.  Mom & dad knew Jesus.  They knew him – as intimately as a person on earth can.

Our family saw our losses through the lens of our faith.  We all do that – regardless of what we believe.  In those nagging areas of doubt, we worry.  In things we are sure of, we rejoice.

The mystery of the gospel is this:

Christ has died.
Christ is risen.
Christ will come again.

Christ has died.

Remarkable, because we know He died for us, yet other men have sacrificed their lives for others.  It happens all the time in war.   You frequently hear of heroic acts on the news; policemen being shot in the line of duty, firemen saving others but not making it out of burning buildings themselves or good citizens dying while intervening in crisis situations.  Though sin is embedded in the nature of man, so is goodness.

Christ is risen!

Other men (Lazarus, for one) have risen after death.  We’ve all read stories of after-death experiences.   Ultimately though, those men die again and their story ends.  Not only did Christ die and rise again, He ascended to heaven and sits at the right hand of God, the Father – He is still alive! The power of the risen Christ is where we find strength when we’ve exhausted all of our resources.  It’s the victory that is the very cornerstone of our faith – Jesus defeated death, hell and the grave!  The risen Christ is at the heart of the Easter celebration.

Christ will come again.

The great mystery of the gospel is that Christ will come again.  The story isn’t over yet!  As amazing as the sacrifice was and as powerful as the risen Christ is in our lives now, the true mystery of the Gospel is the next chapter.  There’s so much we don’t understand, but there will be a day when we know, even as we are known.

This life is but a flicker.  There is a reunion ahead – with Paul’s parents, with others we have lost from this life but most of all with Jesus, our Redeemer.  Isaiah wrote (and Paul reiterated it in 1st Corinthians), “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.”   There Will Be a Day when the mystery is revealed.

O death, (really?), where is thy sting?