Thanks for continuing to pray for Hank Zavaleta and family as he’s on hospice care. Cris posted on CarePages recently to say thanks “for all the kind emails, cards, flowers and food. We are truly blessed to have such wonderful family and friends.” She suggests friends who want to see Hank should do so at this time, and said he’s doing okay and sleeps a lot.
I visited the Zavaletas on Tuesday. It was good to see Hank as he slept quietly, good to visit with Cris, and good to sense the peace in their home. We still have so much in common on our respective brain tumor journeys, best of all our faith in the Lord Jesus – yet they’ve moved to a place we haven’t had to. I’m accepting that there’s a time when the fight is done, this earthly life is over, and it’s just the end. I'm accepting that there's a point when our prayers turn from pleading with God for healing to lifting up blessings of peace and mercy. I thank God for Hank, pray for a peaceful transition, and ask for God’s mercy in all of it, especially for Cris and the girls. It’s just a hard time.
I'm also accepting that just as being born is a process, so is dying. Before our kids were born, I thought a mother going into labor was like turning on a light switch. I thought one moment she was normal and the next she was racing to the maternity ward. But I observed with each of our children that labor started slowly, progressed gradually in small ways, and took weeks to build until baby day. That last part did move pretty fast each time, but it was just mother and child’s final effort before making an introduction.
Sometimes dying happens suddenly, but many times it progresses over days or weeks as one physically and spiritually begins to separate from life on earth. The act of dying is the final leg of the greatest journey a person has ever known, and while it has recognizable stages hospice workers can identify, it is necessarily a singular act made by the one passing away. It’s theirs alone. In this way, I've accepted that dying is as natural as being born. Psalm 116:15 takes it to another level, "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." We are eternal beings made by a loving Creator for a temporary span on the earth, made from its own dust. I've said before that death is not a problem for God. It sure is hard on us though.
There’s a link below to a video interview Hank’s friend did with him last June. If you watch it, you’ll gain some appreciation of who Hank is and catch a glimpse of his faith and courage. It’s beautiful. He talks about the choice to get busy living or get busy dying. Hank chose to live, and has lived with purpose in life. Remarkably, he also found purpose in brain cancer – to help others, to share his story, and to offer hope.
As I prayed with Cris and her friend this week, I remembered from Psalm 23 that in the valley of the shadow of death, the shadow is created by the greater light of God shining behind it. This valley may be an unpleasant place; but we don't stay there – we walk through it. And the reason we do not fear is we’re not alone. God is with us. He offers comfort and strength. In fact, Jesus defeated death and broke its hold on us. Death, our ultimate foe, truly is just a shadow. Hank and Cris have approached this time with the faith, trust, and lack of fear that comes from God. As in Psalm 23, their display of it honors him.
The fact we’re eternal beings is wired in us at the deepest level, though not everyone admits it. Fearing death is natural if you’re not sure whether you’ll spend eternity with God or apart from him. But confidence comes when you’ve placed your hope in the One you know has reserved a home for you in heaven and has the power to put you there. To the redeemed, death and dying become smaller things. It’s important to praise him who’s paid so dearly to secure our lives:
“But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.” Psalm 13:5-6
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