April 8, 2014
I certainly didn’t intend a five-week gap between posts in my series about how people close to Jesus were transformed by his resurrection. But a few hours after I posted the meditation about the Apostle John, way back on Ash Wednesday, my mother was unexpectedly hospitalized. I hit the road to my parents’ home in Maine the next day. A month of turmoil later, I’m sitting in their kitchen, alone with my laptop and my thoughts about recent evidence of the Lord’s faithfulness—the same faithfulness Mary trusted through thick and thin.
Mary, as far as I can see, never doubted that the Lord God would fulfill all his amazing promises. She pondered and praised and treasured and obeyed, but never doubted. When she asked the angel Gabriel how she, a virgin, could birth the Savior, I hear surprised curiosity rather than skepticism in her question. Even at the cross, her faith did not falter. Of all Jesus’ family, friends, and followers, Mary alone watched her son suffer and die without losing confidence in the Lord God’s word that Jesus was the promised savior. She simply waited to see how—not if—the promise would be fulfilled.
In Mary the Mother of Jesus, Transformed, Mary strengthens John after the crucifixion by revealing her knowledge of God’s plans for Jesus. Even Jesus’ death, painful as it had been, couldn’t quench her faith.
MARY: It’s not necessary for servants to understand their master’s plans, John. A faithful servant obeys his master and trusts his promises.
JOHN: Are you suggesting that Jesus’ death is part of the Lord’s kingdom promise? (He shakes his head.) How could such a thing be?
MARY: Do you remember the angel Gabriel’s answer to that question?
JOHN: “The Lord God is able to bring it about. Nothing is impossible with God.” But—
MARY: I know. Jesus’ death doesn’t make any sense, not to us. But his conception and birth didn’t make any sense either.
JOHN (wryly): That’s true enough.
MARY: Besides, look how generously our master in heaven has favored you and me with personal glimpses of his plans for the future. Shall we repay such extraordinary gifts with anything less than our complete trust?
August 11, 2014
Yes, it’s been four months since I started to write this post. When I began, I was sitting alone in my parents’ kitchen for the first time ever because, by the grace of God, I had been able to settle them into an assisted living facility in record time after Ma’s latest discharge from the hospital. I expected to do a little cleanup at the house, chauffeur her to another medical appointment or two, then drive home on the weekend to get my farm bookkeeping caught up before driving back to Maine for her next round of tests and procedures. But, Friday afternoon I arrived at an office too late to transact a piece of business for my parents, and I had to postpone my trip home. So I was still in town when the call came Saturday morning. My mother was in an ambulance en route to the emergency room.
She was barely responsive when I arrived. I didn’t know what to think, what to expect, what to do. Least of all, what to say. I asked if she’d like me to pray her rosary for her. She nodded, or at least I thought she did. Somehow the words bubbled up from my memory and out of my mouth. Fifty Hail Mary’s, ten at a time. Five Our Father’s and Glory Be’s. I probably missed something, but I don’t suppose the Lord held it against me.
The priest came in to give Ma the Anointing of the Sick. Doctors spoke to me, each grimmer than the last. It finally sank in. Ma wasn’t going to pull through this time.
I prayed to Jesus, as one child to another, asking him to deal as lovingly with my mother as he had dealt with his own. Hadn’t he put aside his agony on the cross to place his dear mother into John’s care? Now I placed my dear Ma into Jesus’ care. If not to heal her, at least to ease her journey to heaven.
A very short time later, she slipped away from this life, her hand clasped in mine.
I imagine Jesus, with great big smile, handing his good and faithful servant an Express Pass to Glory, to collect her reward for 84 years of devoted service. I think of the many blessings that fell into place for her and Dad over her last months—evidence of the heavenly master’s generous favor. Yes, my prayers were answered, long before they were uttered.
There’s so much more to tell, but I haven’t had the heart to write about it. Finishing this post is a start.
For more about my mother, Theresa Bonney:
Faith of Our Mothers
For more about Mary the mother of Jesus:
Luke
For more on Mary the Mother of Jesus, Transformed:
Transformed: 5 Resurrection Dramas
Were You There When They Crucified Our Lord? Meditations on Calvary
Chapter 3: The Women
Please post a comment to commiserate, console, or converse. I’d love to hear from you.
—Linda
After a two-year hiatus while I worked on other projects, my Holy GhostWriter plunked me back into hymn-writing this year, with an exciting new twist!
This is the only photo I could find of me and my mother when I was a kid. Like me, Ma usually was the one behind the camera, snapping shots of Dad, my sister, and me on our family jaunts to small theme parks in Maine and New Hampshire. This one was taken at pirate-themed Pleasure Island. I was ten years old.
