nearing the end…

The decision was made to discontinue my mom’s IV fluids. What an awful choice to have to make. Because of her weakened state she’s unable to swallow or speak. All docs confirm what’s been in the back of our haunted minds…my mom will not recover from the complications of her brain cancer. They’ve started a morphine drip, and I have no defense against the grief. It’s overtaken me and I’m completely undone by it. There’s no more denial. And besides a Lazarus raising miracle, which will remain in my prayers until her very last breath, we have no more hope she will live. My mom’s life is almost over yet she’s still able to stare into our eyes as we pour out our love to her. We know she’s there. But not for long. It’s an impossible knowing.

The pain is so excruciating that I begged God to take her quickly. But as I watched a steady stream of family and friends make their way to my mom’s bedside with stories of gratitude and blessing, I realize how very small minded I am. I never considered this time to be a blessing. I didn’t see this coming. I only saw suffering and a way to end it. But if God had ceded to my desire and would have taken her quickly, it would have robbed my mom of the most loving experience of her life. She wouldn’t have listened to her sister and nephew sing her favorite worship songs to her while she raised her weakened arm in praise. She wouldn’t have seen the harvest from all the seeds of love she planted in so many people. She would have missed the blessing. And I would have stopped everyone else from their process of reflective grief and the opportunity to express heartfelt appreciation. I would have stopped the healing that took place in the hours I held her hand, and the strength my dad felt by the support of his children. I would have blocked God’s blessing and put an end to everything good he planned.

I’m humbled by my lack of view. Who am I to direct God’s plan for my mom’s life?

Today I realized that some of the hidden work God’s accomplishing right now is simply none of my business. He’s working things out for people, including me, in ways I will never know and could never imagine. I know that pain, not faith, lead my prayer, and I humbly surrender my ignorance to the One who sees everything, to the One who loves us beyond comprehension.

As I try to brace myself to lose my mom, I’m aware of the incredible blessing it is to have this time with her. It’s an awful blessing, to be sure. But I suppose that’s the deal while we’re here on earth: times of enormous pain, but with the hope of heaven.

My mom’s life is between her and God. And, thankfully, I am definitely not God. Even though this realization is crystal clear to me now, I know this awareness of my small-mindedness won’t end with today, or even with the death of my mom. I still don’t see it, and I never will. I still don’t know the goodness that God has planned for my mom and all of us. His goodness is immeasurable.

I’m thankful that God doesn’t take the advice of humans. Because this mortal has no idea what she’s asking.

“For God causes all things to work together for good to those who love him and are called according to his purpose.”  Romans 8:28

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About Lori Lara

I'm 7 years into recovery from PTSD, major depression, and addiction. Even though I've experienced miraculous spiritual healing in my life, I sometimes have to fight my way through new layers of grief and unanswered questions that continue to challenge me. I've come to realize recovery as a life-long journey, and I believe it's worth every frustrated scream and painful tear we endure to find the deeper purposes of life and meaningful relationship with God. It's time well spent to dig for the truth, freedom, and love we were created to enjoy. Love is the only answer to heal our spiritual wounds. Nothing breaks my heart more than hearing stories of people who struggle silently and think they're alone; the truth is we are never alone. My goal is to remain committed to my own recovery while taking with me as many people as I can. I'm inspired by people who share similar stories of recovery and their never-ending and perseverant quest for freedom and healing. Now that I've found my voice, I'll never be quiet again. I'd love to hear your story and share this journey together... www.lorilara.com
This entry was posted in blog, brain cancer, Glioblastoma Multiforme, grief work, hope, love, trauma. Bookmark the permalink.

16 Responses to nearing the end…

  1. OMG… I am so sorry, this post brought tears to my eyes as I have endured this with many… My thoughts and prayers are with you… I know what it feels like to lose a mother and if I can tell you one thing to do either now or later… Ask her spirit to send you a specific sign in the physical world… make it something that only you would know… once she passes her spirit will come to you, and you will get signs so I always tell people to speak them to their loved ones so they don’t have to seek out a messenger. I truly am sorry and I will keep you and your mom in prayer. May her departure be peaceful for you and her.

    Always remember this too… when you think of her and get those goosbumps it is a spirituall hug that she is right with you hugging you.. you will get them throughout the rest of your years, she will not miss a thing in your life… just ask her for the signs and you will get them.. Aho

  2. Please know that I am sending you huge hugs…I am so sorry and my heart goes out to you. I will keep you all in my prayers. Sending strength and love to you…your post is overwhelmingly beautifully written. Your Mom surely is so proud of her amazing daughter. Stay peaceful. xo

  3. Nataly says:

    Oh my word :-/ I haven’t been reading your blog for long and I haven’t been online the last few days…but I wanted to let you know I am so sorry to hear of these developments. I’m not good with these sorts of words but please know I’m thinking of you and your mom and the rest of your family. Here’s hoping my thoughts of peace and courage and love make it over to you all. xo.

  4. Denise Hisey says:

    Lori, sharing this journey with you and your mom has been an incredible honor. I’m so sorry for the painful times you are experiencing, but am also grateful for your faith and example.

  5. Any words that I say are really inadequate…but to say that I am so sorry you are going through this time and that you Mom is so ill…May our God comfort you all…Diane

  6. Amy J says:

    As Denise said, it is an honor to be invited into your experience. I have learned from it, and am better for it. The honest struggle to trust when things are excruciatingly painful…
    You are a beautiful humble warrior.

  7. I’m also with Denise, and honored. Lori, this blessing poured out to your mom is a blessing to those doing the blessing also, and to those of us hearing. And the peace, and strength, and faith, and courage of your mom! And you. There are no words. I am praying for all of you. Diane

  8. I am humbled by your perspective, your honesty, your hope, your love, your sharing. Thank you.

  9. I am so sorry, Lori! You, your mom and family are in my prayers.

  10. daylily2011 says:

    I am overcome with sadness for you. I’ve been following your blog for awhile and I feel like this is all happening so quickly! Admittedly, I am not as humble a servant as you and I want to cry out “It is too soon to take this young woman’s mom.” But, I know hospice can be a wonderful experience and it is done with dignity and grace for all involved. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

  11. I’m so sorry, this must be so difficult for you. As ever, your kindness and love is shown in this post, you are such a wonderful person. I am thinking of you and your family, and sending you hugs and support xxx

  12. jonparker55 says:

    I am in awe with the deepest respect and love as a witness through your words describing the great spiritual transition your mother is about to complete. My heart and my prayers of thanksgiving join with you and your family as you all rejoice her life through your many shared experiences. Peace and many Blessings to all of you during this time.

  13. Kevin says:

    Lori, your words and the thoughtfulness they tell are a soothing comfort to me. I lost my dad when he was at age 61. The picture of your mom worshipping with arm raised while her loved ones sang- that will stick with me. Thank you for writing this stuff down. It means something to me.

  14. Lizette says:

    Dear Sweet Lori,

    You see the blessings in the pain. These lessons are all around us, as abundant as wildflowers if we just keep our eyes open. You see you have an opportunity to groom your precious mother for Heaven. So many don’t have this chance. It can be of great healing to make this a special time, and I believe you are already doing that, for you are seeing firsthand the works of your Sweet Mama. What a legacy she has left you. You understand now why you must write about these things. To bring awareness and comfort to others who don’t even know the questions. There is no pain on earth like losing a mother, no amount of sugar can relieve the sting. My heart is with you right now as my mind quickly rewinds to 12 years ago when my mom left me. What an impact. First, duty calls and then the tears begin to flow. This is life, strangely enough. Don’t think for an instant your mom is done teaching you. I have never felt as close to mine as when she left me. I still hear her voice guiding me. It is so sweet,,,,,and it loves the light. We are here for you, dear <3

  15. My prayers are with all of you. We had to say goodbye to my mom also when her kidneys failed her. I want you to know that you are not alone. My heart is with you and cries with you. Hugs sweet friend…

  16. When my sister was dying from complications from H1N1 I was able to spend some time alone with her and sing one of our childhood songs to her. It was such a precious moment for us. She was just alert enough to open one eye and peer into mine. I will remember to pray for you this next while. ~ Wendy

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