Cherish

After completing a Christian mystery and suspense novel this morning, a friend came to mind. There were no parallels between her and the story, no similarities at all. But there she was.

She had gone home to be with the Lord in the early months of 2012.

We had worked together, prayed together, worshipped and praised together. We had both left our mutual place of employment months before her death. She lived in Akron. We live in rural Wayne County. We didn’t see each other. An occasional phone call was all we had.

She had called me requesting prayer prior to going in for tests. We could have talked for hours but we kept the conversation relatively short. That was her last call to me. I found out about her diagnosis and prognosis through another friend on Facebook. I was confident that if anyone could beat cancer, she could. I believed she would know complete healing.

She was a prophetic intercessor who knew people all over the country, perhaps the world. She knew what God was doing, both from what He shared with her and through her connections. The woman was connected. I knew she was being upheld in prayer by many, many people.

I can still picture her dancing for Jesus. Robed in a flowing white praise dress, she expressed her adoration to her King beautifully. I was enthralled watching her when I was to be worshipping myself. Reaching, twirling, gliding across the floor. She was born to worship.

I made an occasional phone call, sometimes talking with her and sometimes with her husband. Friends who were closer to her family would keep me current on how she was. One Sunday, I felt a strong pull (or was it a push?) to visit her. She was back in the hospital so we dropped in after church. Family and friends were there by the dozens. The family room was overflowing. They were celebrating her birthday.

Immediately upon entering her room, we greeted her husband and daughter. We washed our hands and joined those by her bedside. I can only imagine what registered on my face as I looked at the person in the bed.

Shock.

Confusion.

 Disbelief.

Fear.

I would not have recognized her. In a few short months, the cancer had ravaged her body to the degree I would not have known her if it were not for the family by her side. She was down to eighty pounds. Her thick, beautiful hair was gone. Wisps were growing in close to her scalp. Oddly, only her hands looked familiar despite how thin they were… those hands that I had seen reaching for Jesus time and time again.

We chatted with her husband. The dear man was hanging on by a thread. He dozed off from time to time. His daughters sent him home to shower and change clothes but I doubt he had truly slept in months.  The love he and his wife shared was deep and abiding. Their story is not for me to tell but it was truly amazing.

Her hospital room was incredible. There wasn’t a place my eyes could travel without taking in scriptures and promises of God. The walls were papered with promises. Promises of hope. Promises of purpose. Promises to see, meditate on and cling to when life was presenting its greatest challenge.

At one point - quite by a miracle of God - my husband and I were alone with her. Softly and slowly, I began to sing the first song that came to my mind. “Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. There’s just something about that name....” Larry joined in as we sang it through twice. 

We had a few more minutes with her before her husband declared she needed to rest. At times she spoke with clarity, at other times I simply could not understand what she was trying to get across.  She needed rest. There had been so many visitors to celebrate with her that day.

 A few of us gathered around her bed and prayed. She held my hand and said something I did not understand. I apologized that I didn’t understand. She repeated it. I looked to her husband for some assistance in comprehending what she was asking. He didn’t know either. It was clear she wanted something but I just didn’t know what it was.

She died two days later. Her final words to her husband were  “it will be OK”.

In my mind’s eye, I can see her dancing and worshipping with the heavenly host.  While we would have preferred she experience healing in this life, her healing took place at the time of her earthly death.  Now she is experiencing a life I can only imagine.

I am happy for her, but tears come when I think of her. There are things I would have liked to have said. Time I wish I had given to her. Worship and prayer I would have treasured with her.

Months after her death, the Holy Spirit gave me a gift. He told me what she had asked me the last time I saw her. “I want to sing with you.”  

I wish I had known. But my understanding was in God’s timing.

She is where she is meant to be, singing, dancing, worshipping her King in His very presence.

I want to sing with her, too. And one day, we will.

Cherish each day and the people God has placed in your life before they slip away….