I did it. I finally finished reading Rose From Brier.
Why did it take so long? Almost a year! Starting last March,
this book carried me through cancer fears and hysterectomy recovery. It made me
feel closer to the grandpa I never knew.
But I couldn’t bring myself to finish reading it. I thought
I needed the perfect mindset or setting. Finally, I told myself, “Just read.”
So, early one morning, curled up on the couch, with the blinds closed to the
world and a lamp lighting the pre-dawn darkness, I turned to the last chapter,
“A Door Opened in Heaven.” The chapter begins with a beautiful poem called
“Winter,” about the joy that comes after “our falling leaves . . . fall into
His hand.”¹ Then Amy Carmichael speaks to those who have no hope of
recovery. Hard, beautiful words.
“I was thinking of the long road to the Land at a great
distance, and of how very delightful the work of a doctor must be when he can
tell one who had expected to have far to walk that the road may be quite short;
and of how more than delighted such a traveler must be. . . .”²
I thought of Grandpa Lloyd as a 28-year-old father who knew
he was dying. Did he read this chapter in his own copy of the book? Did he weep
as I did? Because I did weep, face crumpled, shoulders shaking, eyes dry
as the tears stayed deep in my soul. I wept for those I love who are nearing
Home.
Then I went to a funeral. We had two in our church family in
the span of 17 days. I don’t enjoy funerals. But Solomon said (and he was the
wisest man on earth): “It is better to go to the
house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living
will lay it to his heart. Sorrow is better than laughter: for by the sadness of
the countenance the heart is made better.”³
The heart is made
better! These funerals celebrated life.
The first was for a man who came back to Jesus just weeks before he passed away. His funeral was a comforting testimony of being found by the Shepherd.
The second was for a 54-year-old man who had inclusion body myositis.
Mick lived with this incurable, wasting disease for 13 years. As his uncle
described it, “He knew there was no help available, and nothing coming.”
But he lived with great faith and a fight for life.
His brother- and sister-in-law sang "Celebrate me Home"
by the Perrys, a song that poignantly describes the journey from one place that
we love to another.
Then that evening we went to a concert that brought everything to culmination with this song⁴. "Weary traveler, just hold on . . . you won’t be weary long. Someday soon we’re gonna make it Home!” Oh, the power in those words!
Sometimes the road to Heaven seems to stretch on forever, and we long to just be There. Then suddenly we find that Heaven may be just around the bend, and we realize we’re not quite ready. Even then, Jesus never leaves our side.
My friend Carol has just started her own cancer journey. It’s
more serious than we all expected. She says, “I have felt an incredible peace
throughout all of this; it just has to be the prayers of God’s people! Yes,
there were tears this morning after the sobering prognosis from the oncologist,
but God is still on the throne and in the miracle-working business. Even though
we might not want to go on this journey, He is taking us on this journey and
there is no better place to be than with our Savior.”
He is with His children through the breathing half, and all
the way Home.
¹ Rose From Brier, p. 202.
² Ibid., p. 203.
³ The Bible, Ecclesiastes 7:2-3 (KJV)
⁴ "Weary Traveler," by Jordan St. Cyr.
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