Fear of the Unknown

 I remember (No More)

I watch the drops of rain run down the window pane,

small rivers following their unmapped course.

I have watched this window day after day

                    for long and weary months.

I saw the man with the mower in the summer sun, 

and remembered stacks of grass, we jumped into and threw at each other.

I remember other things we threw, 

like the stones against the glass.

I hear the sound, and feel the fear

of being caught.

Running until breathless, hiding.

I have watched the falling leaves

from trees of gold and brown.

Watched as the last one held on.

Willing it to stay for me.

I remember the rustle and noise of fallen leaves,

kicked underfoot with a joyful sound.

Through this "pain,' this pane.

I have monitored the days gone by and seasons change.

Summer to autumn,

to this the winter of my life.

I remember sledging children,

laughing, cold, yet full of fun.

No more these things of life for me.

No more to lie and hold my husband fast.

No more the sounds of summer joys,

or children's hugs.

No more, for life is swiftly moving on.

But, no more do I fear

tomorrow or the next.

For through this pain.

I have caught a glimpse of Him.

I have seen beyond tomorrow,

and today's deep sorrow,

to the gates of life eternal.

My heart has heard a whispered voice.

That speaks of more to be.

For even death cannot divide.

All that is bound with He.

Written after speaking with a young mother of two children,  dying of cancer in a hospice room. Also another two friends, Kate and Sandy, who I was with as they parted this world. All three I felt privileged to be with through this time and they touched me in so many ways.

Fear of the Unknown

"Do not let your hearts be troubled; trust in God and trust also in me. In my Father's house, there are many rooms; if it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you with me, that you also may be where I am."

John 14: 1-3

Over the years I had listened to a great many ministers declaring that they had no fear of death. They held absolutely no fear at all within them of the prospect of life coming to an end.

On the other hand, had to be honest with myself and my friends that I was envious of such people because this was not my experience. Sadly, I was not so honest with members of my congregations, for like others. I said that death held no fear. I must have sounded convincing because in all my years as a minister, or at any other times had anybody questioned my sincerity. 

That being said, I always had a deep and nagging suspicion that I was not removing any fears from anybody. I suspected I was preaching a hollow message, I certainly did not feel full of courage in the knowledge of the inevitable.

I could never, though, put my finger on what it was that I feared, what it was I was afraid of. I had been with a great many people as they died and it did not seem at all frightening. In fact, I cannot remember a single person whose death did not seem a release. A release from frailty or pain.

I had this recurring thought in my wakeful nights that I wanted to watch my children grow and mature and become settled. I did not want to leave them. Whatever it was, I was afraid of death and because of this fear, I often felt a hollow feeling in speaking the words of resurrection and life after death. I discussed this with fellow ministers and every time I left feeling worse and wishing I had not raised the issue.

Then I met this young woman dying from cancer, the word we seem afraid to speak of. We spoke together and shared our thoughts and fears and together somehow we began to find fears disappear. As we shared, her fear seemed to disappear and with hers so mine. 

The experience changed the rest of my ministry.  it led to other similar experiences and encounters and I was no longer wary of speaking with those facing death. Once such a person, the mother of a very dear friend and a member of my congregation, strengthened my experiences as she shared her feelings, her illness and her dying with me. A dear elder of my last church asked me to be with him as he died. Between these three wonderful people, my fear of death and dying was lifted.

So much is lost when we play games in the midst of death. Pretending it is not happening, or that we have a faith that is not real. Such moments are too precious to pretend. Those three, and many others since have assured me that death is not something to fear but to face. They still speak to me and have done so over the years and in so doing live on in my life.