One year ago, my sweet mom was taken to the hospital with pressure in her brain. We didn’t know it then, but she would never return home.
I had been camping for the weekend in a place with no phone service, so discovering my mom’s location as I reentered civilization was distressing to say the least. At first she was unable to communicate. She was disoriented, scared, and in pain. The doctors didn’t have a clear timeline for when, or if she’d regain mentation (she temporarily did). I’m so grateful we got a few weeks with her as her old self. We had “sleepovers” (aka I stayed in her room as late as I possibly could while we watched Murder She Wrote and ordered in) and listened to music. I was able to get her service dog in her room fairly regularly; she was an instant hit with the hospital staff. My mom wanted to give every person who cared for her a thank you note and a gift bag. That was just her way.
In the year since those disorienting days, one day in particular sticks out. Mom was having a “bad” day (it’s difficult for me to imagine what a good day looks like with stage four cancer, but her level of perseverance meant her scale was so different from mine). She was in pain for the better part of ten years, but rarely showed it. This day, everyone knew.
My sister and brother-in-law had driven down and were camping out at the hospital with us. I had brought my guitar, hoping to bring some relief or amusement. I had just helped lead worship at church that weekend, and it was the first time in two years that mom wasn’t able to be there.
She asked if we’d sing the song I led all together and charged my dad with recording it.
“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God almighty. Who was and is and is to come.”
As we sang, I watched her pained expression turn to absolute peace. She began to hold out both of her hands and weep. Wherever she was, it was not the hospital room. We finished and she was still crying.
“I saw Him. He was right there.” She pointed to a place I couldn’t see. “He was so… so beautiful. I can’t even describe.”
I looked around and saw nothing but the wood-paneled wall behind me.
“Jesus. His arms were stretched out to me. Rainbows and colors I can’t…so beautiful.” She continued to weep and we held her.
My mom never went back to her earthly home, but I know that she entered into the presence of the same Jesus she saw as we sang. The peace that came over her clenched body was real and the effects were visible. After that afternoon, her mind was at peace. She was calmer and more confident. She even began reconciling with those in her life with whom there had been a rift. My sister explained that the Lord was perfecting her love right up until her last days.
I have never felt less afraid to die after watching her die so well. I believe that the Lord, the God who was and is and is to come, truly showed up in that room to comfort my mom, and in a way, to comfort me.
On days when all I can do is cry and miss her, I go back to that afternoon and receive hope.
This world is not our forever home, and thank goodness, because most days it’s a garbage fire. But praise God for the hope of our forever home through Jesus.
Praise God that there is a plan of rescue, and that that plan began thousands of years ago on a cross when the creator of the world died for you.
Praise God that there is a purpose for us while we live and a place for us when we die. It’s the place where my mom waits until I see her again—right by His side.
The first thing I learned about Iowa was that it does, in fact, exist. The second was that you can land a plane on a runway strip in the middle of a cornfield and nobody will think twice about it.
It was the trip we had been discussing for six months. Shortly after we got married, Calvin became interested in attending a local chiropractic college, but just after being accepted, the campus announced that they were shutting their doors. It was pretty heartbreaking. I was sure that meant it was the end of the road for that career, but soon after, he began to consider the same school’s sister campus in a little town in Iowa.
I didn’t want to move to Iowa. I didn’t even want to visit! I tried (and mostly failed) to be positive about it all, just trying to grapple with the idea that God could be leading me somewhere I was reluctant to go and it could still be good.
Per the advice of my counselor, I began to pray and to research. I found POV Youtube videos of people driving around every inch of the town (because apparently this is a thing?!) so I could get a better feel for where we might live. I looked for teaching opportunities at schools in the area and even across the river in Illinois. On sleepless nights, I stayed up to read just about every forum I could find on various Iowa-related things.
Before we knew it, we were on the plane. (You know… the one that landed in a cornfield?!). I’m glad we could laugh and goof off throughout the flight because it was a good distraction from my nerves. The entire time I was praying that the Holy Spirit would give me clarity and peace. That if we were meant to move, I would actually welcome the idea. I made a promise to myself that during our trip I would not say a single thing to sway the decision, and I pleaded to God that He would help me to uphold that promise.
We got an Uber at the airport and drove to a little river town full of friendly people and buildings largely made of red brick. Everything seemed different from California, but I liked that. Sometimes it’s fun to feel like foreigner! Plus, I liked how Iowans said cute things like “you bet,” and how they left off the ing from any word that naturally had one. I learned from the students I met that if it was snowin’, they were either walkin’ to the pub to hang with friends, or eatin’ ice cream at the parlor downtown.
That first night, we ran around the local museum and enjoyed some pub food as we tried to envision ourselves as Midwesterners.
This plate of Schnitzel made it to my list of best meals I’ve had in my life!I’m pretty sure this installation was meant to reference the Seurat painting, A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. You might remember it as the piece Cam stares at when they go to the Art Institute of Chicago in Ferris Beuller’s Day Off.This lovely farm scene was from a series dedicated to Iowan artists. I don’t know what to say about the skeleton in the bag, except that I am probably not qualified to comment on such art.
The next morning, Calvin and I took an all-day tour of the school. For a small campus, it was pretty impressive. I was intrigued at the fact that everything had to be indoors due to the harsh winters, another thing Californians don’t truly understand. Each hall was different but made with the same beautiful red brick and decorated with royal purple banners.
At the end of the day, Calvin and I sat on a curb and waited for our Uber. This town was so small that we rode with the same Uber driver twice!
“So, what did you think?” I asked, fairly certain I knew the answer. We held hands and chatted. I felt peace and safety, grateful for my husband’s love for me. We were in this together. No matter what we decided, we’d have each other, and we’d have the Lord to rely on.
One year later
Short story long, we actually didn’t move! Sometimes I wonder why we went through that season of waiting and wondering, only to decide not to go. Though reluctant, by the time we reached Iowa, I was so prepared to move that deciding not to felt strange. I know I’ve asked God more than once why the way forward wasn’t clear before had bought the plane tickets.
But perhaps it was all another opportunity to grow in trust of the God who always provides for where He leads. Perhaps the Lord was helping us to grow not only in our marriage, but in our faith in His faithfulness.
But I guess we can join the club, right? There are countless examples from scripture of men and women who learned how to trust the leading of the Lord, even when the way forward was unclear:
Noah spent years building the ark in faith when God said it would rain (Hebrews 11:7).
Abraham left civilization to follow God “without understanding where he was going” (Hebrews 11:8-9).
Even the disciples (whom I’m told more closely resembled a modern-day youth group than a bunch of wise men with beards) took a chance on the carpenter who said, “Come, follow me.” (Matthew 4:19).
Arguments made for the authenticity of these stories can be supported by the fact that the Bible writers don’t attempt to cover the fallenness of God’s human witnesses. After the floodwaters receded, Noah got drunk and naked (Genesis 9:21). Abraham trusted God to provide land and a son… until he didn’t and slept with his wife’s handmaiden in a misguided attempt to produce an heir (Genesis 16:2-4). The Apostle Peter was one of those twelve who left everything behind to follow Jesus, but if you’ve read the gospels, you’ll know him as the poster child for impatience, weak faith, and sometimes even weaker character. The point of these accounts is never the goodness of man but the great faithfulness and love of God.
I particularly wonder if we’re told about how Peter hesitated to walk on water with Jesus to paint a realistic image of the journey of faith (Matthew 14:22-33).
Where He leads, He provides
We didn’t move to attend the midwestern school with the purple banners, but I realized the other day that Calvin now drives around in a royal purple ambulance in a job that has been yet another example of the provision and faithfulness of the Lord.
I’m confident that if we had moved to Iowa, we would have found new jobs, a new church, and a new community. Heck, maybe we would have even come to like the snow! It would have been an adventure, for sure.
And yet, is it not still an adventure trusting the Lord with each day, hour, and moment, and to learn how to lean on His Spirit as we strive to be obedient in whatever He asks of us? Whether the Lord is asking us to lay something down or to take up a new role, we have to keep our eyes open and our hearts softened in order to trust that He is leading us somewhere good. I drive pretty much everywhere with my GPS on, but I pay much closer attention when I’m trying to just follow Calvin’s little green minivan. The same kind of attentiveness can be cultivated in us when we watch and wait for the Lord in uncertain seasons.
Flourishing in the house of God
The olive tree logo for my blog is actually based on a verse that has reminded me to stay close to the Lord and trust Him over the years:
8 But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God’s unfailing love for ever and ever. 9 For what you have done I will always praise you in the presence of your faithful people. And I will hope in your name, for your name is good.
-Psalm 52:8-9
May we pray that our hands stay open to what He has for us, knowing that God is good, and that we can trust Him wherever He leads.
Kayley Chartier 