Another week thinking about and planning my next phase in life. But life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans and it nearly decided to plan the next phase in my life for me. A phone call from my mother on Thursday of last week about major health issues made it seem as though this Christmas may be our last together. She had had two bouts of major issues in the past- it was as if we had gotten two free passes- two chances at more time. Given the multiple issues she possibly had going on, it seemed impossible we would get a third. And while tests and a doctor's appointment a week later revealed that the issues were less complicated and while still major and risky, it was less probable that I might be dealing with my mother's impending death especially soon. But, for about a week, my mother and I were pretty convinced that she was dying (and we're still not out of the woods by any means, but the outlook looks better).
Suddenly, the possibilities and likelihoods of my next phase in life shifted to involve burying my bother, settling an estate, selling furniture, cars, determining whether to sell, rent out, or live in my mother's condo- using money from it to buy a place of my own, moving back to IL so I can adequately take care of things. Realizing all the things I would do alone- without family. Mom is all I have and I'm all she has- there is no real other family (that I would consider "family)- who would I put for emergency contact information? If something happened to me, who would make medical decisions, who would get what I have? Where would I go for holidays? If I ever got married, who would help me pick out a wedding dress, walk me down the aisle, tell me how to be a mother? And these were all the selfish concerns- let alone what my mother was feeling, her quality of life, whether we'd ever have enough time for me to express that I actually appreciated the sacrifices she made for me- giving up her life to be a single mother- all the ways she taught me how to love and live.
All my seventy weeks of planning and prayer- well, it mattered- but it made me realize my future phase of life is very much not in my power. Due to what I can only imagine as a lot of prayer from others and God's grace I felt more peace over the entire situation than I would realistically expect. Friends and co-workers were so supportive. I realized that I'd have to count on friends to be my people- my emergency contacts. I talked with my best friend seriously about these things- a refreshingly serious conversation. I forget sometimes how deep our bond goes until I realize she's still the one I'm immediately dialing after I find out my mother may die within the year. People at work were immediately there for me, and the prayer chain from church was ridiculously active. I got messages from them and good friends- simple things- yet exactly what I needed to hear: that I was not walking alone, that God would not have put me in a situation less than the one that was best for our overall good. First, I realized how scared I was of being alone- as it is just me and mom- I would lose all of my family. Then I realized how much God was with me- how my mother's life functioned, what our relationship was like, all my mother had been through- and I realized God really could have our best interests in mind, even in the worst case scenario. I had so much peace- as much as I did not want to lose my mother, I came to a realization that she will never really leave me- she's eternally in my head, in my heart, telling me to drive slowly as it's slick out, to be nice to custodians, to go west, to be what I'm supposed to be. Although the logistics and implications of the situation seemed huge and I was unsure what would happen in regards to my life in dealing with these things, as much as I did not want my mother to die anytime soon, I prayed, "If you can, take this cup from me, but not my will, but yours be done." And I meant it. This was astonishing to me, because my faith had never held up like this before (although, it hasn't quite been tested that severely since I really grew in it a few years ago). I felt as if evil were attempting to knock me sideways and my reaction was to counter it- with good, not allowing it to take me off my daily work in God, not allowing me to shake my faith that God is good and works all things together according to his purpose. Don't mistake, I was still scared, still selfish about the entire situation, but if God would bring something upon me, he would take care of me. I just asked His will be done.
Low and behold, I got through the week, my mother no longer looks as though death is imminent- although things are still very serious- and I can breathe for a moment and reflect. November 18th also happened this week- the date that will be the end of my 70 weeks next year. We are now less than a year away. That's somewhat scary.
This morning I listened to a Christian radio station on my drive to church- the signal doesn't come in strong in certain areas of my usual drive and when I go far enough east, it eventually garbles itself over to static. I only heard hints of this song at first, but immediately a memory of my 19th birthday, where I belted out "Let it rain" with my gospel choir in some black baptist church in Wisconsin- probably Milwaukee.
I often thought about what the song meant- just what was it referring to when it said, "let it rain?" What were we letting rain down? Was it a desperate cry for something to rain down upon us (blessings? Forgiveness?), a desperate, urgent, sincere cry of surrender to what God will bring, be it sun or even rain? Well, it was a desperate cry for something- I think what that something is depends on the person and where their life is at the moment. As my choir sang, we were all probably crying for different things- that's the thing about the body of Christ- different needs, different cries in our hearts, different histories, different places in our walks with the Lord- yet all our different voices came together in a harmony that said something and meant something to those watching, and those of us singing. There's something much more powerful when other voices are crying with you- for different reasons, but ultimately seeking the same, greater thing in the end.
When our loved ones fade away for one reason or another, our friends, our neighbors are all we have.
The song turned out to be just that- a version of "Let it Rain" and although the arrangement was completely different, I belted out the song in my car until it turned completely to static. I thought of the good memories I had associated with it, all the wonderful memories God had given me, the (literally) billions of small gifts I'd received, all the people I've had the pleasure to know and to love. Every moment, every relationship, no matter how small or major and longitudinal, is only a borrowed gift, something lent to us on earth but for a short time. Anything truly good can't last on earth long.
No matter what the year brings- with my mother's health, the end of my 70 weeks, the answers God gives me in regards to it, and anything else that life throws at me in that time- let it rain. Let it rain blessings or pain or forgiveness, as long as it's God- let God rain down. I cry this in both meanings- both in asking for blessing, forgiveness, or anything that comes down, as long as it's pure God. And I say it in surrender, to whatever He brings, because I know, somehow, somewhere, it is good.
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