A. is dying, and she can't talk about it with her family.
She spent two days in the hospital last week, after passing out for so long with such shallow respiration and reflexes that her family feared she had died. She had a conversation with Steve, seeking "permission" not to fight anymore (see below). Today I visited, and she whispered to me that she was ready.
Momma D. and Momma B. were in the room with us, so A. couldn't speak freely. She told me, quickly, that she had broached the subject of her death with her husband, H. a few days ago. "When I am gone, the bed will seem empty, so take M. (their little son) to sleep with you," she pleaded. But H. couldn't stand it. "Don't talk that way! You must fight! You're driving me crazy!"
H. didn't sleep any that night, and when he got up he had a headache all day. When A. heard this in the morning, she apologized, and said, "I was just kidding." But she really wasn't.
How difficult it must be to hope in Christ, and not be able to share that hope openly with those who are closest to you. A's family is all insisting that she continue to fight, and they refuse to speak with her about death. (This seems to be a common cultural practice. After complications from a stroke, Arezoo's own father was sent home by his doctor, who told the family that he was just fine. Twenty minutes after his return, he died.)
Brothers and sisters in Christ, let us not take our freedom for granted. We have a risen Savior! Why should we fear speaking to one another about death? Perhaps the best gift we might give to a friend or family member who is dying might just be our willingness to listen.
She spent two days in the hospital last week, after passing out for so long with such shallow respiration and reflexes that her family feared she had died. She had a conversation with Steve, seeking "permission" not to fight anymore (see below). Today I visited, and she whispered to me that she was ready.
Momma D. and Momma B. were in the room with us, so A. couldn't speak freely. She told me, quickly, that she had broached the subject of her death with her husband, H. a few days ago. "When I am gone, the bed will seem empty, so take M. (their little son) to sleep with you," she pleaded. But H. couldn't stand it. "Don't talk that way! You must fight! You're driving me crazy!"
H. didn't sleep any that night, and when he got up he had a headache all day. When A. heard this in the morning, she apologized, and said, "I was just kidding." But she really wasn't.
How difficult it must be to hope in Christ, and not be able to share that hope openly with those who are closest to you. A's family is all insisting that she continue to fight, and they refuse to speak with her about death. (This seems to be a common cultural practice. After complications from a stroke, Arezoo's own father was sent home by his doctor, who told the family that he was just fine. Twenty minutes after his return, he died.)
Brothers and sisters in Christ, let us not take our freedom for granted. We have a risen Savior! Why should we fear speaking to one another about death? Perhaps the best gift we might give to a friend or family member who is dying might just be our willingness to listen.
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