To Live is Christ, To Die Is Gain

“According to my earnest expectation and my hope, that in nothing I shall be ashamed, but that with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life, or by death. For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” –Philippians 1:20-21

As I write this, Lord, my heart is heavy, broken, in fact. I have just returned from Georgia War Veterans’ Home where I have consulted with the Care Plan Group on the direction to take with Grover’s care from here until his earthly life shall end and he shall, indeed, be able to say with Paul in Philippians 1:21: “For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain!”

I’ve had fifteen or more years to prepare for this time, Lord, as I have seen my beloved in the throes of dread Alzheimer’s. How I thought, on its first diagnosis, that we could win against it! “Love conquers all,” I kept telling myself, and with the Love of God, always with us, His healing power, my love for Grover and his for me—an undying commitment—we could certainly be victorious over Alzheimer’s.

And, in a way, we have been Lord. You’ve given us strength for all these years. Our needs have been supplied in wonderful and unexpected ways. I can’t thank you enough, Lord. But then I had to accept that some things just don’t have a cure on this earth. They are relegated to the heavenly realm where all is life and health, joy and blessing, understanding and acceptance. And that time for him is nearer than I ever thought it could be. In fact, Lord, there have been a few times when I’ve been quite ill in these fifteen years that I thought I might precede him in death. But here I am, still a survivor!

Today I learned that feeding Grover and his becoming choked/strangled is not good. How long does it take someone to die when he isn’t fed? We won’t do a feeding tube. Grover made sure of that when he still had his right mind and signed and legalized his Living Will.

But Lord, my heart is heavier than lead, borne down as though a great stone is crushing it. I thought I could be brave, Lord. You are here with me! I feel Your presence. But I hurt so badly, Lord! Wipe my tears and take some of this grief that weighs like a gray boulder against my heart!

Hospice has been notified. They will come and help Grover, help me, help Cynthia and Keith and all the other close family members to know what we can expect and how the end might be. How kind the aides and helpers were to me this morning at GWVH when I couldn’t help but cry! They were Your arms around my shoulders, Lord. Thank you!

Oh, Lord! I need you more than ever in the days ahead!
Help me not to be ashamed—but may Your name be magnified, even through death. When Grover dies, a part of me will die, too, for we’ve been as one for over 60 years! What joys and what sorrows we’ve waded through together! What mutual joy we had in serving You together, Lord, we’ve been yoke-fellows with You in ministry. It couldn’t have been better than those happy years!

This is January 13, 2010—a day in infamy for getting this news about my beloved. But even though it’s the first month of a new year and a new decade, temporarily, it’s December in my heart—the near end. I’ll have to remember what J. M. Barrie wrote: “God gives us memories so we can have roses in December.”

“For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain!”

c Ethelene Dyer Jones; Wednesday, January 13, 2010