The Beginning and The Continuation

I lost a friend last week. Kay was about 65 years old and the first friend I had in Grand Junction. We went shopping downtown a few times together and out for lunch or coffee and I just really enjoyed her company. She was a person who asked how I was doing and I knew that she was sincere - just the usual "Good, thanks" didn't cut it with her. I appreciated knowing that she truly cared about me; and I truly cared about her.

Last week she suffered a major stroke and she is now gone. It is such a shock and hard to come to terms with. My heart aches for my own loss, but also for her family, who we know very well from church also. She was always doing something with her daughter or her grandkids, and I can't imagine their pain.

What struck me last week was how I have this new little life growing in me and it takes a solid 40 weeks to develop to fullness and be ready to enter this world. And yet life is fragile at every point! I sense how fragile this little one's life is...But I'm reminded of how fragile everyone's life is. It takes 40 weeks of preparation to "enter" and only a second to "depart".

Our pastor said something that really struck me in church yesterday. He said that it was evident that God really wanted Kay at that time. Within an hour of reaching the hospital the doctors said there was nothing they could do for her. God had called her home. I thought that was such a comforting was of thinking about her sudden death. I know that she was ready, at least spiritually, to meet him.

I read an article in one of the recent banners about dogs. It seems random but hang in there. At the end of the article the author told a story about a Christian man who was sick and near death but was afraid of what dying would be like. He was sure of his salvation, but still death was new and scary. He told his doctor this. His doctor's office was attached to his home and the doctor went to the door that connected his office and home and his dog was sitting on the other side of it. The doctor explained that his dog and his children had never, ever been permitted into his office. They always had to wait for him on the other side of the door. He said "this is what death is like". Then he proceeded to call his dog to him, inside the office. His dog sat at the threshold and looked at him, a bit confused because he knew he was not allowed in the office and had never been there before. The doctor called him again and still the dog hesitated, although getting eager and starting to shake a bit, as dogs do when they're excited and confused. Finally, the doctor crouched down and called the dog into the office, to himself. The dog leapt through the door and landed happily in the lap of his master. (I imagine that the doctor got lots of doggie kisses at that moment, too! And there was probably some pretty wild tail-wagging going on!)

Isn't that an awesome picture? It helps that I like dogs anyway, but it's a great analogy of what we might feel when we face death, and are sure that it is our Master who is calling us and will catch us in His arms when we cross that threshold.

So I'm a little out of sorts as I feel the joys of life's beginning growing within me, and yet grieve Kay's physical death and absence and am sad that she will not get to meet my little miracle. But I can't call it the beginning and the end, because I know it's not the end. Kay has just crossed over into a room that we don't get to enter yet. She has eternal life and this is just the point of continuation for her. What an assurance we have!!!