A Road Less Travelled

Memorial Day. Memory Day. A day to remember those who have died. I know it is supposed to be a day to honor those who have died for our country, but I want more than that. God is good to us in death and I want to remember His goodness. The time I could see God’s blessing on me the clearest was when my mom died. I am not afraid of death. And I am not afraid of talking about death. And so I will remember.

My mom’s death was probably the death she would have picked out. She was out in her garden and she was stung by three wasps. Her body was falling apart in other ways and she had always been mildly allergic to bee stings so her body just couldn’t take care of this new stress. And she died. She died very quickly surrounded by her family. I sat outside her intensive care room and wrote in my journal with her pen. Maybe sometime I’ll share those thoughts. The support from the church was wonderful. A member of the church who also happens to be a doctor came and stayed with us, pulling whatever strings he could to make this easier. He answered my questions when I just couldn’t figure out what was happening. And so she died. Her heart slowed down and then just stopped. Saturday, July 19, my mommy went home.

The next couple of days are a blur. People came and were wonderful to us. The elders took care of most of the funeral arrangements so Dad didn’t have to. And God continually showed me how good He is. Maybe four days after my mother died I set up a dinner for seventeen people. I have no idea how I did that. By all rights it shouldn’t have been possible. There were plans for me to sleep at my brother Jonathan’s house the night of the 20th, but on the way there Seth and I were listening to Rich Mullins’ song ‘Hard to Get’. It got to the part of the song that asks ‘Did You ever now loneliness / Did You ever know need?/ Do You remember just how long a night can get / When You are barely holding on and Your friends fall asleep?’ and he pulled the car over and just cried because everyone was asleep at the house and he wouldn’t be able to sleep and he would be alone. So I went back with him and we sat on the front porch, eating Little Ceasar’s pizza and laughing and crying. And most of my immediate grief happened right then. Most of my mourning happened on that front porch. And I think this was so I could be a support to my father in the days to come. By all rights I should have slept at Jonathan’s house that night, but God was good to me and granted me this time. There are more stories of God’s grace that all happened in one little week, but they can wait. He who would tell a story must know when to stop.

I look forward to Heaven. I look forward to sitting next to my mom telling her how our God was good to me when she died. But for now I wait. And for now I will remember.

Linda Anderson Ben-Ezra
March 9, 1952 – July 19, 2003

Happy Memorial Day