I didn’t want to go that Friday. I was angry with my life and arguing with my husband. I was feeling sorry for myself and not in any mood to be helpful to anyone else. When I walked in she was slouched over to one side, unable to pull herself back up. I took a deep breath and walked over to the bed. She had a look of relief on her face when she saw me. I propped her back up and positioned pillows under her arm so she wouldn‘t fall over again. She was so far from the strong sturdy woman who took care of her family on her own when she couldn’t bare the mess she was in anymore. She stood against society to take that stand. She was the one who told me not to cry to force me into reality as a young child. Now, she was so humbled and totally dependent on others.

I reminded her of the new body she would have one day because of her profession of faith. I oftened teased her about dancing a jig on streets of gold. We sat and discussed the end for a few moments. What would happen the day she took her last breath and came into the presence of the LORD. Just then the doctor walked in. He reported her tests looked good and she was improving.

Lunch would be served shortly. She would need someone to cut it up and help her eat. Just as the food arrived another visitor came. I was relieved that someone else was there to help and I could just go home. I gave her a kiss and promised to come after the weekend.

Early Sunday morning I got the call. I heard the words but couldn’t understand. The doctor said she was improving. I listened with unbelief. I was told Saturday morning she decided to remove all support. She said she was tired and wanted to go “home”. She had outlived her siblings and buried two of her own children. The doctor made sure she understood the repercussions of her decision. She did. She held on all day into early Sunday morning while family surrounded her.

Why wasn’t I called? Why didn’t they tell me? I was the closest one to her! She shared intimate things with me that she never spoke to anyone else. People who barely gave her the time of day and said unkind things behind her back were there.

But it didn’t matter. It was too late. She was gone. I wasn’t there to comfort her or say goodbye. I wasn’t there to make jokes and see her smile. I wasn’t there to reassure her that we would see each other again one day or tell her that everything was going to be ok. If I had known it was the last time, I would have told her how brave I thought she was and how much I looked up to her for the woman she was. If I had known it was the last time, I would have told her how much she meant to me, how much I loved her and regretted any disagreements we ever had. I would’ve told her I was sorry for my selfishness and wanted to spend more time with her. If I had only known it was the last time.

Faith is a measure, a gift.

Seeds sprinkled into the heart.

Whispers of promises.

Promises from the One Who yearns to fulfill.

But will He?

I often wonder during those times of desperation, when things are too overwhelming to bear.

Then those promises whisper again and again, rolling over in my mind.

So real I can see them, touch them.

The seeds are watered and begin to grow, twisting around every desire of my heart.

As they grow, the enemy also whispers.

Whispers of lies. You’re not worthy, you’re forgotten.

Will He really fulfill these longings?

Yes!

Yes, He will!

If only I believe.

It’s my choice.

Will I uproot everything that was planted?

When I believe, the seeds that sprouted flourish into trees heavy ladened with fruit.

And the fruit from these trees are those promises fulfilled.

Before she came into being, I loved her.

From the minute I found out, I awaited her entrance with excitement. It took much longer than I expected, and there was a great struggle for her life, even at birth. The moment I held her in my arms, every hope and dream I had for her flashed across my heart. I gave all I was able to give and nourished her with my very own body.

Each passing month demonstrated more of her sparkling light she brought into the world. It was evident this is what she was designed for, to bring light, to breathe life.

But then it happened, little by little she pulled away. First, toddling unsteadily on her chubby legs. Next, running full speed in the opposite direction.

How could I let her just go? What if her choices or the world snuffed out that exuberant light that danced in her eyes when she smiled? Would my heart be able to bear seeing her walk away?

At times it was as if I couldn’t breathe as I clenched my fists and held onto the promises as I released her. It was then I realized, she wasn’t mine to keep. She was created for so much more than me.

And now I see her standing, radiating the glory she was designed to emit, reflecting back to me.