Pain Journey

I took a pain journey this weekend. It wasn't intentional, it just sort of happened. Okay, while I say it just happened, I'm pretty sure that it was God's plan for my weekend all along. I purchased the book Glimpses of Heaven by Trudy Harris, and then proceeded to read nearly the entire thing. The author was a hospice nurse for many years and had many, many experieces with dying patients who had glimpses of Heaven in one form or another in the time near to their death. I am fascinated by the topic, as I have several personal examples to draw on, so I thought it would be an interesting read. It is, in fact, an incredibly interesting book. However, I don't think that I realized how personally it would affect me.

When someone grieves, they feel a range of very "normal" emotions. One of those is guilt. I have definitely experienced that one. There are so many ways that God has shown us that it was His time for my Mom to go, and that He took her in the way that was best, but there is this part of me that is wracked by guilt that I didn't see it coming. I just feel like I would have said things and done things differently. And while I know it all doesn't matter now, and we did everything we knew to do, it still haunts me.

Reading this book has caused me to revisit those last days, hours, and minutes. It has been incredibly difficult. I haved cried myself sick. I cried so hard last night, that I had to take gravol to sleep, woke up with hugely puffy eyes and a migraine, cried my way through church, came home, read some more, cried some more, and then slept remarkably peacefully this afternoon. In many ways, it was devastating to read the stories of dying people, and what they and their families experienced. In other ways, it brought an immense amount of comfort to know that these things are "normal" and experienced by other people, as well. While none of these experiences are exactly how my Mom died (I think that most people's journeys are different), there were certain aspects that I entirely related to.

I think this book kind of helped to "connect some of the dots" for me. For example, one of the stories in the book is about an elderly man who just wasn't able to let go. The nurse recognized that the man was waiting for "permission" to die. The man's son came in and told him that it was okay to go, and he died shortly after. I had a very similar experience with my Mom, but it happened a few months before she passed away. I felt like my Mom had held on for years because of her kids. She was incredibly, incredibly worried about leaving us. She was our world, and we were hers. I knew that it was important for me to tell her that it would be okay for her to go, and it had been on my heart to do so for some time. One night we were talking in her room. She was telling me how tired she was. Chokingly, I told her that I didn't know how, but somehow we'd be okay, and when she needed to leave, she should just go. A few days before she passed away, she also made her parents promise that they would take care of us if we needed anything. I think the road was paved.

Here's where some dots were connected. I felt guilt over not having been able to say goodbye, because I really didn't know that that was her time to go. But, I realized that it's okay because she didn't need to stay. She knew I loved her, and I knew she loved me. I had told her it was okay to go, and so she went. I had meant what I said to her, and I know it was what she needed.

Yikes, I wish I could stop crying. If you're still reading this, you're probably crying, too. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't keep reading anywhere past the talk of death. It's not an easy subject. You're probably asking yourself why I would subject myself to this kind of thing, anyway? I mean, why read a book that you know is going to make you cry, and why keep reading it when you realize just how difficult it's going to be? Good question. I'm not entirely sure that I know the answer, but I know that God does. He has a purpose for me to experience this, and to deal with some of my feelings, no matter how much it hurts. It is definitely better to experience the pain, and deal with it, than to lock it away and pretend it doesn't exist.

Okay, here's the real kicker. As if my little pain journey wasn't God-directed enough in and of itself, my friend Kristy was prompted by the Holy Spirit to email me a portion of a book she was reading yesterday. It's from Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet.

"Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears."

Pretty incredible, isn't it? I received that email yesterday just before I really got into the book. I knew they were words that spoke right to my heart, but I didn't realize just how perfect they were until I started reading the book last night. It never fails to amaze me how the Holy Spirit guides and directs us, and even connects us.

This weekend has been a difficult one. And it's not quite over yet. I'm heading back upstairs to try to finish reading the book, while subjecting myself to more pain. :) I do know it's not in vain, though. The journey of pain brings healing.