dealing with death

Nice Nails Never Fail

My mother has always been a great dresser. It’s probably because she grew up near poverty on a farm in Minnesota. Upon high school graduation she decided to hit the “big city” of Minneapolis and become a registered nurse. Once she completed her training she made the move to really get radical and took off for Los Angeles. There she met a flashy young guy who had just served in the Korean War, owned a deli/liquor store, and drove a nice car. It turned out to be true love. Mom and Dad were soon wed and I was born several years later.
 
Dad’s been gone for many years. Now Mom’s getting close to the end. The last throngs of cancer are closing in, but disease be damned!  This woman is ready for her heavenly reward.
 
She took a spill at home last Friday and while in the hospital they discovered that this 87-year old dynamo had been unknowingly battling liver and kidney cancer. Interestingly, she had just had her nails done prior to the fall. Today, as she lay in bed asleep, I decided to take a snap of her always lovely hands and those awesome nails.
 
If there is a prize for “Best Nails in Hospice,” she clearly wins.
 
The lesson: for the ladies, nice nails never fail.
 
For the guys: change your undies daily.
 
lol, and thanks for your prayers.
 
Brian

Everyone has a Shepherd

Even though people may be very rich, they don’t live on and on…They die…
Psalm 49:12.

As you may have heard, I’m in Chicago as my mother’s life winds down.  It’s naturally causing me to go deep in thought, so I appreciate your curiosity to peek into my feelings just now.

I’ll begin with a storyline I’ve seen somewhere before; perhaps it was an old episode of The Twilight Zone:

A random man or woman opens a newspaper and recognizes the date on the front page is reporting events three months into the future.

The person reads through the news and discovers descriptions of events that have not yet taken place.  The sports section reveals the scores of games not yet played.  The financial page touts winners and losers in the stock and bond markets.

This person suddenly realizes such information could make them exceedingly wealthy.  A few large bets on underdog teams,  some money invested on Wall Street.

Wow!

Soon the profits are pouring in.  Out of curiosity this newly minted risk taker returns to the newspaper to see if there’s anything else that could garner further profit.  The pages are turned and examined.  The Obituary section appears.

In an instant exuberance turns to abject dismay.  The person sees their own photograph and life story.  Death is imminent.

It’s amazing how the knowledge of death instantly erases the joy of great wealth, or fame, or pleasure, or whatever.

But while acknowledging death may give perspective, it doesn’t provide comfort.  Bad people die.  Good people die.  The atheist dies, and so does the genuine follower of God.  But what about comfort in knowing what really lies ahead?

Above I presented a portion of Psalm 49.  Here’s a bit more:

Even though people may be very rich, they don’t live on and on.
They are like the animals. They die.
That’s what happens to those who trust in themselves.
 It also happens to their followers, who agree with what they say.
They are like sheep and will end up in the grave.
Death will be their shepherd…
The bodies of sinners will waste away in the grave.
They will end up far away from their princely houses.
But God will save me from the place of the dead.
He will certainly take me to himself.

It’s interesting that the psalmist declares death will be the shepherd of those who trust in themselves, rather than the Lord, because in Psalm 23, Israel’s great King David tells us:

The Lord is my shepherd. He gives me everything I need.
He lets me lie down in fields of green grass.
He leads me beside quiet waters.
He gives me new strength.
He guides me in the right paths for the honor of his name.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid.
You are with me.

In life, and in death, everyone has a shepherd.  The question is, who is yours?

In the case of my dad, during his entire life he was his own shepherd. He marched to his own drummer.  And then, finally about three weeks before he died he confessed that everything he thought was important, business deals, investments, possessions, were crap.  “What was most important was right in front of me–the family.”

Shortly before his death Dad finally yielded to his Heavenly Shepherd.

Likewise, Mom too, has confessed her belief in The Shepherd.

Cutting to the chase, the New Testament says,  “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God has raised him from the dead, you will be saved,” (Romans 10:9).

What is significant about believing that Jesus rose from the dead is that you are acknowledging He is the victor over death and darkness.  The promise for believing this is, what happened to Him will happen to you.

To have faith in the God of resurrection is to believe that when you die, out of the darkness of the night you will go to the light of morning.  It is to realize that God has paid the ransom for your soul, and He will take you home to be with Himself.

Understanding that changes everything.  For the believer in Jesus–the righteous person–there is no death into darkness. Instead, there is the light of God.

Wow.

I’ll keep you posted on further revelations.

 

I Miss You, Kenny

It was the worst day, and week, of my life. But God used it for His glory.

On this date many years ago my life, and the lives of many, were changed forever.

I had just concluded a Pop Warner football game and was back home, out of my uniform, ready to get on with the rest of my weekend.  I heard some sirens and looked out the front window just as an ambulance whizzed by the house. Curious, I hopped on my bike and took off in the direction of the speeding emergency vehicle.

I didn’t have to travel far before I arrived at the scene.  There was a young boy, about my age, lying motionless next to the curb.  A bike was nearby, twisted like a pretzel.   A small black sports car was parked awkwardly in the street with a dented front end.  Two shoes were strewn on the pavement.

“Who is it?” I asked a buddy as a crowd  began to gather.

“I dunno.”

The young victim’s head had experienced so much trauma we couldn’t recognize him.

I watched, stunned,  as they took the boy’s body and placed it in the ambulance. Apparently he was still alive they said.  That was good–right?

But then I saw two adults get into the ambulance.  They were my friend Kenny’s mom and dad.  They looked awful.  I instantly put it all together.  I had just played football with their son hours earlier.  He was coming over to my house on his bike to goof around after the game.  Somehow he was hit by the car.

Kenny didn’t last but a few hours.  I’ll never forget my dad getting the call from our coach that Kenny was gone.  My old man set down the phone, walked over the the liqueur cabinet and poured himself a stiff one.  He sat still for a minute or so, fighting back tears.  Then he walked into the adjacent room where I’d been watching him.

My dad had seen a lot of bad stuff in his life.  Years later he said giving me that bad news was the hardest thing he ever had to do.

I was a pallbearer at Kenny’s funeral three days later.

My life went sideways for many years after that.  I had so many questions about life…and death.  Thank God those questions were eventually answered.

14 years after Kenny’s death I contacted his mom via letter.  I was moved as I read her reply.  She told me, “For at least two years I cried everyday.  I just couldn’t seem to get over it.”

However  she went on to describe meeting some wonderful followers of Jesus who lovingly ministered to her regularly.

“I finally realized that I would be able to see and be with Ken again,” she wrote. “It says in the Bible that in the last days that the dead who believed in Christ will rise in the air and we that are here on earth that love the Lord will be caught-up together to be with our loved-ones, to be with them forever, and there will be no more death, tears or crying. When I finally got this through my head I was able to live with this tragic event that happened to Ken.”

I still miss you, Kenny.  Because of your death, I came to know Jesus as Messiah.  As I’ve shared about your death, many hundreds have come to know Him as well.  I take pleasure in knowing we’ll meet up again.

And by the way, I can’t wait to throw the football around with you too.