Living in the Waiting

East Main Tunnel under Welland Canal

Admiring the beauty in the sky above, I captured this scene on my phone Thanksgiving weekend.  I was drawn to the blueness of the sky trying to peek through the fluffy clouds.  Though the clouds threatened rain, the sun still shone through and I felt at peace.

We entered the tunnel and soon emerged to continue our journey.  I had no thought at the time of the weight from the waters overhead, of how impossible it would be to pass through on my own.  The tunnel in it's stable construction did its job and I gave it no second thought. Last Sunday though, we each entered our own tunnel and are still living in it's shadow.

The sudden darkness of grieving has begun, as I realize the implications of  the disease pulmonary fibrosis.  With such gradual change in Mom's lungs since her diagnosis over six years ago, I've glossed over the final stage. I have to stop pretending. There's no turning away now. Death is inevitable; we just don't know when.

Seeing her struggle to breathe after expending energy is painful.  Hearing how she feels like a tight band is encircling her chest takes my breath away.  Knowing that she wakes up feeling like she's suffocating makes me ache for her.  And there's nothing we as family can do.  It's so hard not being able to fix things.  Mom's going through her own deep waters and we're watching from our own dark tunnels.

The waters would crush and drown us were it not for the tunnel.  Billions of tonnes of water in the Welland Canal are held back so we humans can continue driving in our cars.  We continue with our daily travels, our mundane activities while Mom struggles through the waters.

She declares she's at peace with dying because she is experiencing Jesus close beside her each day.  She clings to promises like those in Psalm 23, declaring that her Good Shepherd is leading her to restorative resting places.  Friends are sharing scriptures, prayers and words that lift her spirits daily.  She wakes from sleep wondering....am I with Jesus yet? ......or do I have another day?

My encouragement has come from Isaiah 43 where God says words like, "Fear not.....I have created you....formed you.....redeemed you....called you by name....You are mine!  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you  and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you."  I picture Jesus keeping Mom afloat.  She pictures him as her mattress as she rests in him.  I picture him keeping her head above water.

I know that this same God desires to join me in my tunnel.  As siblings we are each unique to this tunnel living, being influenced by our perceptions and past experiences.  I can only travel through knowing I am precious and I'm deeply loved.  I have to learn my own lessons of trust, turning my anxieties into prayers.

I need to keep asking my difficult questions, searching my own heart for what needs are crying out to be met.  As I turn towards God,  he will always be there to answer.  I'm even seeing him as the tunnel itself, helping me breathe by keeping back the waters.  I'm seeing God putting pieces into place, allowing our family to be closer to each other instead of separated by distance.  I'm seeing us learning how to better support each other emotionally, to be a family.

When we come through to the other end of this tunnel, I know I will be changed.  Mom will be released from her suffering as she lands on the shores of heaven.  Her new lungs will fill with the freshest of air, her new body empowered to move as she desires.  We though, will have to let go and release her into God's hands, as painful as that will feel.

The lessons of faith that I'm struggling to grasp in this tunnel of waiting will have to guide me through whatever lies beyond.  I have to keep letting go of the fear so I can more deeply trust.