February 28, 2006
My best friend’s mother went to be with Jesus tonight. After a heroic battle with cancer she passed quietly from this world to the next, quite literally with her Lord’s praises on her lips. All I have been able to think since I received the news is that she is looking into the face of Christ this very moment. That all of life’s sorrows are but a shadow to her, and that her heart is overflowing with a joy it would never have been able to contain on earth. I’ve thought of my friend and her siblings and their dad, as well, and of their unutterable loss, for this mother and wife was no ordinary saint. Her life distilled the beauty of the Lord wherever she went, like an irresistible fragrance. I wonder what they will ever do without her. I turn my wonderings to God and tell Him with the force of faith that I believe that He is good. And then I go back to cleaning the supper dishes, wearily amazed that I can be about something so unbelievably ordinary when such a heavenly event has transpired.
All at once I am overcome with grief and I sit down at the kitchen table and weep, dishcloth in hand, as countless women have done before me over countless sorrows. Then I pull myself together and dry my eyes, for there’s a little one upstairs—my charge for the week owing to the fruit-basket-turnover of my friend’s children—and I must tuck her in with a smile.
All afternoon I’ve watched this little fairy of a girl, marveling at her innocence, contrasted so sharply with what I knew was going on down at the hospital. It gave me joy to see this fresh young life flitting about when I knew that the presence of death was hovering so near those I love. And it made me feel quite oldish to consider that I was now the grown-up with a head-ful of hard facts she little suspected in her happy ignorance…that I was the one speaking in code across the dinner table and slipping out of the room to make phone calls.
That innocence was a balm for Philip and me both. I watched her go out in the yard with a basket, returning presently with a mélange of wildflowers for a most delectable ‘soup’. We made cookies, and extracted my kitten Pip’s head from the chair spindles where he’d got it hung. And tonight after dinner she gave us a laugh that was as good as any tonic: When Philip went up to read her a story, he noticed a bit of kitty litter on the rug. In fact, he noticed that it made a rather tidy ring around the entire coffee table. His bewildered gaze met Frances’ frank one. “I thought I’d just put out a little food for the kitties, so maybe they will come in here and sleep with me tonight.” How she laughed when Philip explained it to her!
What a wonder, that the One Who breathed laughter into this little child is probably laughing with Susan this very moment over all the things she finally understands.
What a beautiful post… I’m so sorry to hear about your friend’s mother, but I am thankful that she is now with Jesus and loving Him face to face. Thank-you for this lovely post… I have visited here before and have meant to tell you what a wonderful blog you have… God bless… Debra
Thank you Lanier for posting this about Susan. Her life was such a testimony to
mothers everywhere…her precious, quiet, spirit and home full of love. I’ll always
remember Rachel’s glorious wedding with the streams of helpers flowing in and
out of the house, carrying bountiful trays of fresh breads and delicacies to feed
the masses…and Susan gently and graciously directing it all. She will be greatly
missed.
Susan was one of the most unselfish women I have ever known. I think of times in her kitchen–which was the heart of their home and the children all coming and going while we drank tea and ate some delicious tidbit. Conversations about homeschool. courtships, wedding preparations still linger in my heart.It is hard to think of those carefree young women now mourning the loss of their dear Mother. I know that Susan is now whole and well in the presence of her Savior and that each of her children know that their Redeemer lives. what a quiet life and how she influenced so many ..
Lanier-
This post brought tears to my eyes. When I lost my own dear mother to cancer the summer before last I was in my forties, married, with three children, and yet I felt as lost as a little girl and I cried all night for my sweet mommy. I hope that time and the knowledge that they will see their mother again will ease your friends’ pain.
Oh, Lanier, I was so sad to hear this news. What a sweet family, and their mother will be deeply missed. Thank you for sharing about the little moments of joy you found even while you were grieving: a silly kitten getting stuck in the chair spindles, a bouquet of wildflowers, and a trail of kitty litter left by a little girl … these are the precious moments that keep us all going. We’ll keep their family in our prayers.
Lanier,
I’ll be praying for all involved.
You’ve taken a sad event and deftly brought together gentle contemplation, reverence, reality, and an appropriate touch of humor. Further proof that you should be the one to start a Victoria-esque magazine! 🙂
Blessings.
Deb
Thank you ladies–all of you–for your sweet words and loving thoughts. I am so touched…
And Deb, well, we’ll see about the ‘New Victoria’! 😉
Friend, you have blessed us so sweetly with this tribute. I thank you most especially on my fathers behalf to whom you have brought comfort, and delight. We are honoured by the honour and understanding with which you wrote of Mama’s life.
She did trust in her Beloved so implicitly, even while passing through the dark river. Some of her last words to us,” Don’t be afraid! God is doing GREAT things.”
she repeated several times, and before sleeping we believe she was trying to use her last breath to sing along with Handel’s Messiah.
Mama’s best friend called the other day with a beautiful discovery I wanted to share here. It is from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening Devotional. Go read the morning of February 28th, the day she died!
Psalm 62:5 “My expectation is from Him…”