On November 12, 2020, Aunt Gail passed away peacefully.  I've tried to write that sentence in at least five different ways, trying to find the best way to word it- that she died, that she passed on, that she went to be with Jesus, that she won her battle with cancer by going to heaven, where these is no more disease.  None of it feels quite right.  Mostly because I still can't believe she's gone.  We miss her so much already.

I'm incredibly sorry for the lack of Caring Bridge posts.  It makes my heart ache to think that some of you are hearing this news in a way that feels unexpected and brash.  In her last months of life, Aunt Gail's privacy was so important to her.   We wanted to honor that.  Not sharing the details of her story without her permission was just a small way to offer her some of the dignity that she deserved.  However, we also know that so many of you were invested in Aunt Gail's story.  You prayed, you offered support, you read every update.  For that reason, we felt it was appropriate for this one final post to be made.

It has been one of the greatest honors of my life to help with this Caring Bridge.  I really do mean that.  Thank you for joining us on this journey.  While Aunt Gail didn't want a traditional funeral, a small group of immediate family gathered at the park this afternoon for a private time of remembrance.  It was simple and social distanced, which I know Aunt Gail would have approved of.  The best way I can think of to close out this post, and this Caring Bridge page, is by sharing what I shared this afternoon:

Psalm 23:

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.  He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.  He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake.   Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.  You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.  You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.  Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

I wanted to take a moment to talk about Psalm 23, because it parallels what the end of Aunt Gail’s life looked like in a beautiful way.  And I would like for all of us to be able to look back on her final days and see, not something painful and dark, but something beautiful. 

David sounds full of peace and assurance in his writing of Psalm 23.  He talks about green pastures, not lacking anything, having nothing to fear.  But his life circumstances usually did not match the way Psalm 23 sounds.  David’s life was so messy.  He had enemies that wished him harm and mistakes that he couldn’t take back.  He was an imperfect man, with big feelings, and questionable decision making.  But all of that was very small in comparison to his faith in God.  He was able to speak from a place of hope, even when it didn’t reflect his circumstances, because of his assurance of who God was. 

That looks just like Aunt Gail’s final days.  When she was in the hospital last month, my sister and I had the opportunity to visit with her.  Her circumstances at the time were also bleak.  Gynny and I went in there ready to encourage her.  We began to tell her how very loved she was.  We told her she did such a good job loving others.  We told her she really made the most of the time God has given her.  We told her how sweet heaven would be and how much hope we have because of who Jesus is.  And her response was not one that was sad, or fearful, or hopeless.  She was matter-of-fact and calm.  She confidently began to tell us that she already knew.  She told us she was ready.  She had so much assurance in her voice. 

Just like David, she had that assurance because she understood who God is.  Even as she walked through the valley of the shadow of death, like Psalm 23 refers to, she wasn’t afraid because she knew what David knew.  There can be no shadow without a light source.  Without light there is only darkness.  A shadow is just evidence that there’s a light somewhere shining down.  The shadow of death is nothing but proof of the presence of who God is, a shining light that we can clearly see if we will just change our perspective.

I love that the grace of God means that an imperfect man who made so many mistakes gets referred to in scripture as a man after God’s own heart.  I love that that same grace offered Aunt Gail hope in her final days on earth.

One last thing that’s interesting about all of the hope that we hear in Psalm 23 is that the chapter before, Psalm 22, sounds nothing like that.  Like I said earlier, David had big feelings.  In Psalm 22, David mourns deeply.  He says things like, “Where did you go, God?  Why have you forsaken me?”  David always spoke very frankly with God about the way that he was feeling, but he always came back around to hope. 

I think we are safe to have our big feelings, too- to mourn deeply because we feel and will continue to feel Aunt Gail’s absence in such a huge way, to wonder why this was the way that her story on earth ended.  God isn’t afraid of our questioning or our mourning.  But we can also mourn with great hope.  And we can live out however many days each of us have left here with assurance that no matter how messy life gets, the same grace that David knew, the same grace that my Aunt Gail came to know so well, is grace that is also available to us, too.