The Road Home
My favorite time of year is fast approaching. Even the songs of the birds in the trees proclaim, “Spring in near!” I look out the window at my garden and I see splashes of green. The Hyacinth and Surprise Lily bulbs are peaking through the layer of leaf mulch. I have purposely planted them where I can see them from the window. The Hyacinth will bloom right beside the front door. In my mind I can smell them already. Nature itself is giving us a sign of hope and promise. The bitter cold and colorless scene of winter will come to an end. The season of Lent also begins in the spring. How fitting that the Maker of all things would choose the season of spring to die, defeat death itself, and then rise again.
“His anger lasts only a moment, His goodness for a lifetime. Tears may flow in the night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)
This past year has been a long one for my five siblings and I. Our mother was in a nursing home and failing. She had always been a petite woman but she looked even smaller as she lay in her bed. Parkinson’s disease had robbed her in so many ways. She could no longer do some of things we take for granted in our daily lives like walking or turning over in bed. In the end she was unable to speak and quit eating. The six of us surrounded her bed. Her beautiful blue eyes were cloudy and half closed. For seven days we kept vigil at her side. We took turns telling her we loved her and that it was okay to go home. Little by little that precious, tiny lady diminished. We knew her time here was ending. I leaned over and took her right hand. I whispered in her ear, “Come on, Mom, I’ll walk with you there. And when you get there, take His hand.”
“If you openly declare that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.” (Romans 10:9)
My siblings and I knew where Mom was going. She had taught us all our lives: Jesus is the son of God, born of a virgin, died on a cross, and rose again. Because we knew that we all could say through our tears, “Go home, Mom.” In those last moments my mother opened her eyes. One last time those blue eyes were clear. She got a smile on her face and we all knew what she was seeing. She saw Home. Two times she got an expression on her face like she saw someone she hadn’t seen in a very long time. Then she smiled again, reached out with her left hand, and grasped in the air as if taking someone’s hand . Then she passed.
“As for you, you will die in peace and be buried at a ripe old age.” (Genesis 15:5)
My mother lived eighty-nine years on this planet. As I write this today it is with joy that I can say, “She lives!” No more sorrow, pain, or fear. No weakness, no old age. Spring has come. She will forever be in the season of summer. She is walking through gardens that have colors and fragrances this earth has never known.
Our life here is a journey. We all face difficulties, pain, or sorrow. But my friends, we do not have to make this journey alone. Jesus Christ is not a story in an antique book. He is alive and well and anxiously waiting to take you by the hand. You can experience happiness and unspeakable joy along the road of this journey. He knows you better than you know yourself. He knows your hearts desires. He purposely placed gifts, abilities, and talents within you. There is only one you; and He chose you. Walk out this life’s journey with Him at your side. It may be winter, but spring is near. At the end of road of your days you too will most certainly be home.