Cold does interesting things to the human heart and
soul. In my case, it has caused a
serious case of writer’s block. I am
trying to flow in my blogging efforts and all I keep hitting is a thick, very
cold ice block (haha…).
Minnesota proves to be an interesting state to pursue
health. We have many obstacles to
health: snow, cold, frozen soils, black
ice, etc.…. it can be very challenging to find good sources of food throughout
every season. Freezing, canning,
planning ahead become part of the tasks of finding health in every season.
One challenging situation that I experienced this year was
the death of a close friend. My friend,
Terri, had been battling breast cancer for 2 years and died January 12th. It was a shock, even though she had been sick
for 2 years.
We were in it together.
She decided that she was going to make it, she wasn’t going to die and
that God would make a way for her to be here for her boys. She left behind 3 beautiful boys, 9, 17, and
19 years old. And she will be missed
terribly.
I have never lost a close friend before and at such a young
age. We fought till the end for her to
make it and yet her body failed her. She
didn’t fail, her heart was in it, and she fought harder than I have seen anyone
fight.
I am still processing this loss and yet I have peace. We had asked God to heal her and to restore
her life. We had prayed that God would
provide for her and her boys. I have
never prayed as much as I did for my friend Terri.
She was a beautiful person with so much spunk and fight in
her. She was passionate about truth and
health and being a mother. She was such
a great advocate for her children. She
was an awesome friend and a great listener.
I enjoyed so much our conversations and time together.
It was a difficult, awesome, scary, and beautiful process to
be with someone who is dying. I was with
her every day in the hospital/hospice care before she died. I spoke with her about forgiveness, letting
go of hurt and pain and trauma, and entrusting her children to God while she
was in a coma. I was able to say some
things that were more difficult to say to her while she was alive. I was able to laugh and cry simultaneously. I told her that it was okay to let go and go
to God and then in the next breath I would ask her if she wanted to live, if
she wanted to fight to live. And it went
like this for the last 9 days of her life on earth.
I let her go to God and then I prayed that God would raise
her up. It went like this. I didn’t sleep for a week. I didn’t eat for a week. I just forgot. It was an afterthought. When I came home, I was too tired to
eat. When I went to bed, I was too tired
to sleep. But I would pray and ask for
help, for peace, for healing for Terri.
The fourth day that Terri was in and out of a coma, I
noticed some improvements and they encouraged me. Her eyes were actually open and I could see
that she was not completely in a coma.
She was severely uncomfortable in her bed, so I prayed for her and
prayed for healing and peace. She moved
a lot and was flailing her arms and legs.
It was so hard to see her in this state.
I just wanted her to be whole, to be healed.
I went the next day and she seemed more comfortable because
she wasn’t flailing anymore. The 6th
day, she was even more responsive and would look at me and other friends and
family.
The 7th day, I arrived and the shock of my life
came when my friend Terri said “hello,” like I was stopping by to pick up my
raw milk or something equally casual. I
was elated, I was terrified, and I had hope.
Maybe she was pulling out of the coma?
She locked eyes with me this day and I knew that she completely
recognized me. She knew everything that
I spoke to her the days previously.
There was a quiet calm in the room, a sweet presence of God,
and a peace that started to flood my soul.
I became more relaxed. We called
her family and friends to come and talk to her.
She said hello and spoke to her sister and brother. She even said, “hey you…” like she would
normally say to me and she said “hey Meg.”
It was beautiful indeed to see the transformation.
The other transformation that was subtle yet still very
apparent was the deep peace etched in her eyes.
She held peace, possibly for the first time in her life. The deep, unshakeable type of peace seemed to
lay itself on her broken, failing body.
In that moment I knew. I knew
that she had let go of hurt, pain, trauma, and rejection. I knew that she had forgiven those people in
her life that were the most difficult to forgive. All the hardness and bitterness were
completely melted away from her face and her eyes. Her normally hard appearance was soft and
full of grace and mercy.
It was a beautiful transformation. I was in awe of the moment. I wondered what she had experienced in and
out of her coma. I wondered if she had
spoken to God face to face. I wondered
if she saw the brilliance of light and of heaven.
I look forward to the day that I can ask her all the
questions that I have about her last days on earth. So many things unanswered.
The transformation was not for this life, but for the one to
come. The healing and restoration that
we prayed earnestly for was not for this life, but for the one to come. Terri received her healing. Terri received her restoration. It is more beautiful and brilliant than we
can imagine in a broken and hurting world, but it is something to live and to
hope for.
I miss her, but I know that she is truly happy and at peace
for the first time in her life. It would
be selfish of me to desire her to be here with me. As I know that she found was she was
searching her whole life for on earth.
