Dear Friends and Family,

Our precious mother went home to be with Jesus and Dad at 6:25 Saturday evening, May 25. Both of us were there, with our husbands, as she breathed her last breath with us. To hold her hand in that moment felt like holding Dad’s hand once again, like touching heaven. 

We are in a place where either nothing is prayer or everything is prayer. We choose to believe the latter. Every wail of lament, every plea for mercy, every wordless shaking of our heads in wonder, every heart swell of gratitude. All prayer without ceasing. 

We couldn’t have done her last 48 hours without your love and prayers. God answered prayers before we spoke them, met needs before we knew them. We marveled at the miracles of the past two years, the graduations and celebrations, her second trip to Colorado, her move to a new home and welcoming home of Elizabeth, her 70thbirthday party. As today’s sun parted the fog of this weekend, we kept uncovering more miracles. 

God routed Michael along a different path home from a business trip, so that we had a team of four: Michael, James, Garrett, and Becky. Four to carry the mat for Grandma as we began our journey to the ER. While calls were made to her doctors and nurses, Michael called home, echoing Garrett’s words that morning: "Christy, come now." But stitches from her recent thyroid surgery needed to come out. “Come now.” But she hadn’t packed a thing, not even her post-surgery medicine. “Come now.” 

Her daughter Courtney trailed behind, leaving as soon as school let out to follow with a suitcase and medicine for her mom. 

As two drove from Wisconsin, four held the mat in the ER, consulted with Mom’s doctors, and changed course again. Soon, we found ourselves in a familiar place, Mercy Hospice in Johnston, where our dad finished strong nine years ago. 

In the hospice nurses’ tender care, Mom rallied, declining pain medicine, arguing with James about who would pay for her chocolate malt, and telling nurses that she still planned to make it home for the next day’s chemo appointment. Her last words that night are the same ones she has been saying all her life. God is good. 

Early Friday morning, we knew she wouldn’t be returning to her Johnston home. She changed overnight, unresponsive except for a rare hum.

For 48 hours, we watched her breathe, humbled by the strength and fight in her frail body. We knew she wasn’t fighting to stay here for herself, believing to live is Christ and to die is gain. She was fighting for us.

Through tears, we took turns telling her how much we love her, thanking her for how well she loved us, praying gratitude and grace over her, and singing her favorite hymns. We dialed up Mom’s mom, Grandma Gierhart, and cried as this almost 98 year-old mother cheered on her daughter. “My sweet little Kathy, I love you so much, but God loves you even more, and he’s there with you. And I will be with you soon.” 

I have fought the good fight, 

I have finished the race,

 I have kept the faith. 

Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness. 

2Timothy 4:7-8

With love and gratitude,
Becky and Christy