For we groan while we are in this tent, since we are weighed down, because we do not want to be unclothed, but clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. (2 Corinthians 5:4)
Mom was swallowed by life. When she was a young adult, ailments began to accumulate. She quietly suffered migraines, hypertension, arthritis, fibromyalgia, neuropathy, hypothyroidism, and lymphoma. In the end, it was not illness that took her, but life that swallowed her whole.
We thought we were here in life fighting to keep Mom from death. Sometime in the last days, as she lay in the hospital, she discovered it was the other way around. Her body was death, and life coaxed her free of the cocoon. She demonstrated this discovery by a joyous countenance as she yielded.
As Mom floated away from suffering, a cable of concern for bereft loved ones held her back. True life drew the cord taut and suspended her in the middle.
“If you need to go,” our family told her, “don’t wait until everyone is gathered for goodbyes.”
The cable disintegrated in a gentle pop. And Mom rose.
An image developed out of the fog, Jesus, arms wide, his life pull urgent. Mom raced to him and it happened at contact. Thrill electrified her spirit. She snapped awake to know her life on earth had been a shadow of this new union. Sparks drifted down to reveal peace—permanent, immovable peace the size of a granite mountain.
All this as the arms of Jesus swallowed Mom in life.
Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank you for consuming my mother in life.