With my whole heart I cry. Answer me, O Lord! I will keep Your statutes. I call to You. Save me that I may observe Your testimonies. I rise before dawn and cry for help. I hope in Your words. My eyes are awake before the watches of the night, that I may meditate on Your promise. Hear my voice according to Your steadfast love. O Lord, according to Your justice, give me life. They draw near who persecute me with evil purpose. They are far from Your law. But You are near, O Lord, and all Your commandments are true. Long have I known from Your testimonies that You have founded them forever. (Verses 145-152)
He told me his mother used to sit by the window all night looking out at the streets. That she often had this really sad look on her face that he felt responsible for erasing somehow. She was dying, but she didn't let him know that because he was only eight. Jay (not his real name) thought all mothers had a wig and sometimes stayed in bed for days. It was his world. Cathette, his mother, was my best friend. Though she lived a thousand miles away, we were always close. I went to visit her right before she died of the breast cancer that ultimately ravaged the rest of her body, too. She and her husband adopted two sons after her initial diagnosis and the aftermath of chemotherapy and radiation stole her chances of conceiving children on her own. The boys were young when the cancer returned. I spoke with my beautiful friend on that visit a few months before she died. "Have you talked to the boys about your death?" I asked. "No." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "No, I haven't." The reason, it seems, is that if she had spoken to them it would mean she'd given up. That then it would be reality.
So when she died, Jay, the elder of the sons, was devastated. It completely blindsided him, though she'd lain in a coma for many, many days before she left this world to be with Jesus. His father took him to counseling. Tried to understand what made his son act out. But counseling didn't help. Jay refused to communicate. A couple of years later, the three of them came out to California for a visit and stayed with us. We did the usual southern California things like Disneyland, but it was a day in the San Jacinto Mountains that lay snow-covered and ominous above the blistering heat of Palm Springs that changed Jay's heart forever. We rode the tram to the walking trails that are carved out between the massive pines and firs that cover the mountain and perfume the air. "Tell me, how did you know my mom?" he asked as we walked alone together up an easy trail. "I met her on our first day as teachers," I responded. Then I told him of her gorgeous thick brown hair and impossibly deep dimples, and how she was as tall as I am. How we looked across the room where orientation was going on and both of us knew we'd made a friend...for life."
I told Jay how his mother yearned for marriage and children and saw me through the births of all three of mine. How she found out she had cancer the day I found out I was pregnant with our son. Gushed, really, about what an amazing friend she was. How I loved her. How happy I was when she got married. How devastated when the first news of her cancer rocked her life before her first wedding anniversary. How she called me with the news that she had a boy! Born on my birthday! Jay. Joy in the morning. The answer to years of praying by the window through the night.
Then he spilled his heart. He couldn't stop talking about all he'd felt. About how he thought he could've saved her. Didn't know she was dying. Wanted a mother who would play at the park instead of just watching him. Because...because he didn't know she was so sick. If only he'd known...And there it was. The guilt that had been eating him for many grieving months. He could've been a better son. He wished he could tell her that.
The gift I could give him was that I knew what his mother was praying for as she sat by the window in the watches of the night when she arose before dawn to cry out for God's help. She'd told me on that visit of the sleepless, seemingly endless nights when she contemplated her death. How it would be for the boys. For her husband. How they would go forward without her. How she could think to let them. "But I'm praying now for their comfort. For them to be strong and survive." She choked up, of course, talking about it. "That someone will be there to help them understand because I can't."
Jay was still talking about his feelings two hours later back at our house as we got food ready to cook out. He helped in the kitchen and set the table, all the while asking questions and revealing, for the first time, all he thought. "Why didn't you tell the counselor all of this?" I asked.
"Because she didn't know my mother."
It was clear in that moment to both Jay and to me that God was answering Cathette's nighttime pleas. The comfort her son needed. All she tried to visualize as the tears spilled down her cheeks before the sun came up. God took her son a thousand miles from home to get the comfort he needed. "She loved you so much, Jay. She didn't want to leave you. That's why she didn't tell you she was dying. Hoping beyond hope that the Father she spoke to at midnight would decide to heal her. Let her stay here." We sat down on the back porch waiting for the chicken to grill. It was where I sat when I last heard Cathette's voice telling me good-bye. "You were an awesome son, Jay. She left because God called her home to be with Him. And you are here with me because she prayed with all her heart you would be comforted."
Tears glistened in our eyes as we hugged each other. It doesn't always go the way we hope when we plead with God to save us. But He is always near and the testimonies of His steadfast love are forever. And into forever. Where Cathette is today, whole and shining. Knowing as she is known. No more tears or sickness. Answered prayer for her, too. With the God she loves with her whole heart. The end of a victorious journey into unimaginable glory. And Jay? He's doing just fine.
He told me his mother used to sit by the window all night looking out at the streets. That she often had this really sad look on her face that he felt responsible for erasing somehow. She was dying, but she didn't let him know that because he was only eight. Jay (not his real name) thought all mothers had a wig and sometimes stayed in bed for days. It was his world. Cathette, his mother, was my best friend. Though she lived a thousand miles away, we were always close. I went to visit her right before she died of the breast cancer that ultimately ravaged the rest of her body, too. She and her husband adopted two sons after her initial diagnosis and the aftermath of chemotherapy and radiation stole her chances of conceiving children on her own. The boys were young when the cancer returned. I spoke with my beautiful friend on that visit a few months before she died. "Have you talked to the boys about your death?" I asked. "No." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "No, I haven't." The reason, it seems, is that if she had spoken to them it would mean she'd given up. That then it would be reality.
So when she died, Jay, the elder of the sons, was devastated. It completely blindsided him, though she'd lain in a coma for many, many days before she left this world to be with Jesus. His father took him to counseling. Tried to understand what made his son act out. But counseling didn't help. Jay refused to communicate. A couple of years later, the three of them came out to California for a visit and stayed with us. We did the usual southern California things like Disneyland, but it was a day in the San Jacinto Mountains that lay snow-covered and ominous above the blistering heat of Palm Springs that changed Jay's heart forever. We rode the tram to the walking trails that are carved out between the massive pines and firs that cover the mountain and perfume the air. "Tell me, how did you know my mom?" he asked as we walked alone together up an easy trail. "I met her on our first day as teachers," I responded. Then I told him of her gorgeous thick brown hair and impossibly deep dimples, and how she was as tall as I am. How we looked across the room where orientation was going on and both of us knew we'd made a friend...for life."
I told Jay how his mother yearned for marriage and children and saw me through the births of all three of mine. How she found out she had cancer the day I found out I was pregnant with our son. Gushed, really, about what an amazing friend she was. How I loved her. How happy I was when she got married. How devastated when the first news of her cancer rocked her life before her first wedding anniversary. How she called me with the news that she had a boy! Born on my birthday! Jay. Joy in the morning. The answer to years of praying by the window through the night.
Then he spilled his heart. He couldn't stop talking about all he'd felt. About how he thought he could've saved her. Didn't know she was dying. Wanted a mother who would play at the park instead of just watching him. Because...because he didn't know she was so sick. If only he'd known...And there it was. The guilt that had been eating him for many grieving months. He could've been a better son. He wished he could tell her that.
The gift I could give him was that I knew what his mother was praying for as she sat by the window in the watches of the night when she arose before dawn to cry out for God's help. She'd told me on that visit of the sleepless, seemingly endless nights when she contemplated her death. How it would be for the boys. For her husband. How they would go forward without her. How she could think to let them. "But I'm praying now for their comfort. For them to be strong and survive." She choked up, of course, talking about it. "That someone will be there to help them understand because I can't."
Jay was still talking about his feelings two hours later back at our house as we got food ready to cook out. He helped in the kitchen and set the table, all the while asking questions and revealing, for the first time, all he thought. "Why didn't you tell the counselor all of this?" I asked.
"Because she didn't know my mother."
It was clear in that moment to both Jay and to me that God was answering Cathette's nighttime pleas. The comfort her son needed. All she tried to visualize as the tears spilled down her cheeks before the sun came up. God took her son a thousand miles from home to get the comfort he needed. "She loved you so much, Jay. She didn't want to leave you. That's why she didn't tell you she was dying. Hoping beyond hope that the Father she spoke to at midnight would decide to heal her. Let her stay here." We sat down on the back porch waiting for the chicken to grill. It was where I sat when I last heard Cathette's voice telling me good-bye. "You were an awesome son, Jay. She left because God called her home to be with Him. And you are here with me because she prayed with all her heart you would be comforted."
Tears glistened in our eyes as we hugged each other. It doesn't always go the way we hope when we plead with God to save us. But He is always near and the testimonies of His steadfast love are forever. And into forever. Where Cathette is today, whole and shining. Knowing as she is known. No more tears or sickness. Answered prayer for her, too. With the God she loves with her whole heart. The end of a victorious journey into unimaginable glory. And Jay? He's doing just fine.
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