The last class in the series Jim and I had been taking at church was scheduled at a hotel on the beach about an hour away as a bit of a retreat. Looking forward to a little time away from caring for my mother I elected the overnight stay option. I had lined up a caregiver to stay with my mom, but the week before the retreat she was admitted to the hospital. It was serious this time. Doctors and nurses had been instructing me about hospice and leading me that way. As a Christian, I wasn’t sure if hospice was the right thing to do and was waiting on God’s guidance, looking for the slightest indication as to what He would have me do. When it came, it came in a way that still blows me away when I think about it.
With all the difficult decisions, I was needing time away from the pressure more than ever. Since my mom was being well cared for in the hospital, we decided to go ahead with our plans to attend the class retreat. I had also decided to focus on what we were learning and wouldn’t talk about what was going on with my mother to anyone while we were there.
The morning of the class, I spotted two available seats next to a woman we had enjoyed discussions with previously. Also already seated at the table was a couple I hadn’t met before. They turned out to be retired missionaries from our church. When they started talking about the book they had written: I Heard Their Cry, I immediately thought our seating arrangement was no coincidence. I had just posted on my blog what was to be the final chapter of my first book: A Different Way and had been researching publishing companies. I was even more surprised to hear their publishing company was one I’d talked to about my book. Now was my chance to learn more about the publisher and the entire process. But as it turned out God had more pressing information for me to learn from these missionaries.
After finishing the buffet style lunch that had been served in our classroom, there was more than an hour left before class was to reconvene. When the missionary couple asked if we’d like to come along for a walk on the beach, I jumped at the chance to talk more with them.
Once we made our way to the beach, Jim and Ray paired up and walked on ahead of Virginia, and I. Virginia started our conversation by casually asking, “How was your week?” Still not wanting to talk about what had been going on with my mother, I said, “Oh, you don’t want to know,” hoping she would change the subject. Instead, she stopped and looked at me with genuine concern.
Then it all spilled out. The whole horrible story about my mom being in the hospital and because of her dementia the doctors were looking to me for decisions on how far to go with treatment, and about them educating me on hospice care and how confused and undecided I was feeling. That’s when Virginia confessed something to me that was so surreal. She said, “I’m a hospice nurse.” Instantly, at that moment, without saying anything we both knew we’d been set up by God. We stood there, crying, looking at each other in utter amazement.
Just by Virginia saying she was a hospice nurse cleared up for me whether it was right for a Christian. Not only was she a Christian, her lifelong service to God as a missionary also told me she was a strong, committed Christian. It couldn’t have been more evident to me that my encounter with Virginia was the guidance I’d been looking for from God. But was hospice what my mother would choose if she could understand?
The fact that my mother was so willing to endure all the medical procedures without complaint still made the decision for hospice hard for me. I’d learned from Home Health Nurses, who had previously come to the house, that even with dementia they would not violate my mother’s will. If she said “No” they would not continue. It was her choice. But this time she hadn’t said no to anything, making me think her will was to proceed with the life-saving treatments.
Soon after the retreat there came the point where a particular procedure was necessary for my mom to live, but would leave her in a condition in which I knew she would not want to live. As hard as the decision was to discontinue all treatment and make her comfortable with hospice care, it was finally clear to me it was the right thing to do for her. It was time to let her go. She was two days in hospice and then in heaven. But was she?
I hoped she was in heaven, but I wasn’t sure. I never was able to get her to go to church with us. But with all the sermons I watched on Christian television she had been exposed to God’s word during the time she lived with us. She had heard us read our Bible aloud and talk about God. She’d also willingly joined hands with us while we prayed at meals. But was it enough?
There was also the time I’d gotten frustrated with her saying, “I can’t!” all the time, especially when it came to exercise. It got to the point where she needed a wheelchair around the house. The wheelchair didn’t fit through the doorway to her bedroom, so she had to walk a few steps to her bed. One day she caught on that I was having her get out of the chair a little further down the hall each time. When she refused to get up, saying “I can’t!” I yelled, “Yes you can! You can have the strength of Jesus!” Instead of getting mad and yelling back like she usually did, she looked at me so sweetly and with a sincere voice said, “I can?” Yes, I said, “All you have to do is ask Him. Do you want to ask Him right now?” She agreed, so together we prayed and asked Jesus to give her His strength. Thinking about it later after she passed, I asked God, “Was that enough for her, Lord? Did she make it with You to heaven?”
The answer came while reading my Bible in Acts 2:21: “Whoever calls on the name of the Lord, will be saved.” I knew she had done that when she called on Jesus for His strength.
Interestingly, while making calls to inform family and friends of my mom’s passing, my cousin, a physician, wanted to know the details of her death. After telling him the whole story, he said, “Wow, she had strength, a younger person couldn’t have taken all of that.”
Caring for my mom was quite a stretch for me, but with God’s help, I went the whole way. And I’m glad I did, I have no regrets. All that could have been done to give my mom every chance to live was done without going too far, leaving her in a condition she wouldn’t have wanted. Best of all I’m at peace knowing she made it to heaven. Thank You so much, Lord!
To be continued . . . see Sheep Road
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