She waved. I wasn’t sure if she was waving hello or good-bye so I asked her, “Were you waving at me?” She opened her eyes and said with a smile, “Oh, did I wave at you?” I’ve been sitting at the foot of the bed so she can see me whenever she opens her eyes.
I went to her side and said, “Mommy, you look tired.” I held her swollen hand tightly. The hands that held me when I was a baby, rocked me to sleep on our front porch many times, held mine when we walked in the halls of college where she dropped me off. Hands that touched so many lives throughout the years as her primary goal was to bring others to Christ. I am only just learning how many hands she held, and what a legacy she is leaving behind as I receive notes and texts from people throughout the day telling me the ways she has touched them.
“You’re going to get to hold Jesus’ hand pretty soon,” I told her.
“I know. I can’t wait.” She lit up for a moment. She knows to Whom she belongs, and where she is going.
Holding back the tears I mustered up the courage and said the words so many have said to their parents when it’s time to let go, “Mommy, you don’t have to wait. You can go and be with Jesus whenever you want to. We’re all going to be ok.”
“I know. I plan to.” She said this with a confident nod.
“I love you Mommy.”
“I love you too.”
That was about 10:00 this morning. I’m not sure what she’s waiting for, but apparently her work on earth is still unfinished and she knows it. When it is complete, she will let go and she will hold the hand of Jesus.
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À la prochaine (Until next time) …