Monday, February 14, 2011

On His Way Home

We stood around his bedside tonight, listening to his shallow rattling breaths. He would grimace and cry out in pain ... and we all cried alongside him. He never really knew we were there ... never recognized any of us ... but when we spoke of Jesus and prayed, he'd quiet down and become peaceful. All it took was the mention of Jesus' name. Just the mention of Jesus.

What did that say to us? That dementia and death are horrible, horrific things ... but even those things bow at the name of Jesus. That our God in heaven cares about every detail of our life and is there for us. That Jesus reaches beyond the mind and body to our innermost being. That Jesus loves us.

He hasn't gone home yet. He's still working on that process. In the meantime, we pray and grieve, knowing that Jesus is there with him in the far-off shadows of his mind that we can't reach. And somewhere, in the midst of his dementia and pain, we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he recognizes the person of Jesus. He's on his way home.

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