We talked of heaven again yesterday. She said she knew she'd be leaving her pretty pink room soon. Was she afraid, I asked after she said she'd be moving to heaven. "Not at all," she responded. "Why would I be?" Always steady, never ruffled, that's my mom.
I reach over and offer some sips of water. Then I softly spread lip balm on her parched lips. I feel her brow, rub her shoulders, adjust her pillows, brush her hair that is due for a haircut. Her room is beautiful. She is beautiful. She is content. She is peaceful. She is always grateful and says so. Even if those are the only words she has energy to say, she will say, "Thank you for taking care of me." As she taught me how to walk, cut my food, put on stockings, plan a wedding, be a mother to my children, she is now teaching me how to die. A role model to the end.
Her words reminded me of my grandmother who in her last days with us could "wait to see Jesus and have Him hold me in His arms and tell me He loves me." Those words are a precious gift to me.
Visit Podso and read about the Sacred Ground she is walking on...
