Oh Death Where is Thy Sting?

It was a normal Monday. I love Mondays, if I haven't mentioned that before. I don't really remember what I was doing. I know I did a few loads of laundry and just some of the normal household duties. I remember also that Dave came home earlier than he does sometimes. We were having a nice evening at home, psyching Amber up for her birthday the next day and her party on the weekend.

Then came the call that no one ever wants to get: Mom and Dad Glick were in an accident. We don't know much, but they were both taken to the hospital and the police said it didn't look good for Mom. Richard's and Allen were on their way. Then came the waiting. I realize that D and I process things so differently. I want to talk and talk and talk and D goes quiet. I'm trying to learn to be okay with this. I kept working and putting things away and getting the kids ready for bed.  Then came the final call: Mom is gone. She has passed into eternity. She is with Jesus.

Amber had the perspective we needed: "Why is Daddy sad? Grandma is with Jesus." Yes, child you are so right.

I wonder a little bit what that Bible verse means when it says, "Oh death where is thy sting?" Death still stings, it's the loss of a loved one, the ending of a generation, an empty spot at the family table. But yet, death has lost its sting because we know where Mom Glick is. She is living a life fully whole, fully complete, filled to the fullness. The grave only has her body, her soul is experiencing life in a way we can only dream about. We can't wish her back, but we can prepare to go to her.
 As we spent those days between her death and her funeral, I was struck by the fact that I didn't know my mother-in-law that well. There was a side to her that I don't think I had really seen and discovered yet. That makes me sad. I think of the letters I should have sent, the pictures I should have kept updated and I feel bad. I realize that it doesn't matter to mom now. What does matter is what I do with that knowledge now. I still have a father-in-law who I'm sure would enjoy a letter and some pictures every now and then.

One thing that stuck out to me when the family was sharing one morning was prayer. A couple of them mentioned Mom praying, one asked, "Who is going to pray for me now?" What would my children say about me? Am I known as a lady of prayer? Do I have an open door for my children and friends to come in and make themselves at home? Do I exhibit a hospitable nature?

It was a big viewing and funeral, in the 500 range for both, and you know why? I think it was because of the giving and hospitable nature of Mom and Dad both. Yes, they had lived a lot of places, but that wouldn't have mattered if they hadn't plugged in wherever they went and made friends. They have lived in New Jersey for the same amount of time as we have lived here and the neighbors that came to the viewing and funeral, it was amazing. Some of them even came to see Dad at the house, bringing food and comfort. Who of my neighbors would come to see me? It's scary to think about.

And so, grieving is normal and natural, but we have a hope beyond the grave, beyond the here and now and that is makes the grief tolerable. I don't know how people handle grief without Jesus. He is the only One who can comfort the grieving and bring hope in the midst of loss.

And so, in memory of my mother-in-law, I want to do better. I want to be more hospitable, to plug in and live fully right where I am at. While I won't care who comes to my funeral or what they say, I want my family to have a heritage and a legacy they are honored to be a part of. I want to do my part to make the world a better place.

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