I last wrote on April 6, predicting that my mother’s “mansion in heaven” was nearing completion for her occupancy. Eight days later, she received the key and entered her heavenly home.
Words will always fail to adequately convey the depth of gratitude my heart holds for having had the privilege of walking with her the last 11 days of her life, but I’ve been processing this for these last 7 weeks since her passing, and some of my reflections have crystallized.
1. What’s in my heart will come out unfiltered at the end of my days. It’s not uncommon to hear very sad stories told by caregivers of the elderly that relay bitter, angry, demanding, unthankful spirits in many of the geriatric population. That describes the opposite of my experience with my mama, whose grateful, appreciative heart blessed and uplifted us throughout her final journey. Truth be told, that wasn’t a surprise, because it’s what she had been practicing her whole life. Those were the seeds she had been sowing for years, so when it came time for the harvest, we were privileged to gather bouquets of flowers rather than weeds. It matters what you sow.
2. Our days are in His hands, not ours. After “throwing” her pulmonary embolism and surviving, but returning home to being confined to bed, this always independent, strong, self-sufficient, lover-of-life woman wanted nothing more than to go to sleep one last time and waken in the arms of Jesus. She, however, ended each prayer with “but not my will, but yours, Lord Jesus.”
Although deeply grateful that her heart had not stopped beating that memorable Saturday, March 28, we, her seven children, joined her in praying that her desire for release from this broken world would be fulfilled. In her then very compromised state, none of us wished her longer days, especially not for our benefit. As the days piled up, she said several times to me, “I guess I’m not very good at dying!”
But we all knew that she had nothing to do with it. "A man’s days are numbered. You know the number of his months. He cannot live longer than the time You have set.” (Job 14:5, NLV)
3. Knowing Jesus really does make all the difference, while both living and dying. As tributes poured in about Mama’s life after her death, so many comments affirmed her heart for Jesus and the impact her life lived for Him had had on person after person. A number of people expressed that their own surrendered life for Jesus was the result of her influence on them. The last week of her life, she was still praying for ones she loves who don’t know Him. She even witnessed to the various caregivers, wanting these momentary helpers to know the gospel. “Maybe that’s why I’m still here…” she said on more than a few occasions during that last week. She lived for Christ.
As a result, she died with Christ. Death did not scare her. She was not afraid to die. She was confident that “to die is gain” as she would leave this broken world for eternity in which she would be see Him face to face, in a place we can only imagine: where there are no more tears or sorrows, no more disease or pain, no more losing football teams or broken dreams. “This world is not my home, I’m just a passing through…” She knew that full well and all she really wanted at that point was to get there.
Esther Frances Theriot Shiell Collins
January 7, 1930–April 14, 2020
It was a sacred journey that I will treasure all of my days. And for God to have arranged that our daughter Lisa and I could be the 24/7 caregivers together her last 11 days made the journey that much more precious. All praise is His. Alone.
Lisa and Mama shared a very special bond. Lisa brought professional care wrapped in personal love in a way only she could’ve done.
Keshia, a young Naval corpswoman, spent Sundays with Mama starting in January, and they hit it off famously. Keshia considered it a great privilege to care for an Admiral’s wife and peppered Mama with questions about her life as a Navy wife. During the last two weeks of her life, Keshia showed up in angelic ways that ministered to all of us. Mama loved her and Keshia loved her right back.
Sadly, COVID-19 prevented all seven children from gathering in San Diego for her last days, but thankfully, FaceTime and Zoom filled in some of the gaps. She talked with each of her at-distance children every day at least once, and during Easter weekend, we had a family “Hymn Sing” over Zoom (pictured here). We’ve always been a hymn-singing family and truthfully, we’ve always sounded much better than we did that day, but “make a joyful noise unto the Lord” we did and it will always be a very sweet (if not dissonant) memory.
"A mother holds your hand for a while, but your heart forever.” I took this photo of our clasped hands just hours before she passed. I am beyond blessed to have a mother who both held my hand and holds my heart.
Lisa dropped me off at LAX to fly home Apr 19, and I stepped back in to a world that once again seemed strangely apocalyptic as I was in three different, but all empty airports. This all continues to be surreal, especially as evidenced by the photo taken at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport, midday on a Sunday.
Lisa dropping me off at LAX
O’Hare Airport never looked so empty.
Neither did Logan. Terminal B. Late Sunday afternoon. Crazy.
Since our travel-to-speak schedule has been suspended, we’ve used the time to focus on several ministry projects as well as numerous house projects. The biggest thrust was developing “Virtual Family Camp” which we released on May 9. Paul worked overtime along with Barbara Steele and several other very gifted partners to produce this “stand in the gap” media tool for the many who will not experience their annual family camp tradition, as camps from coast to coast are closed. Using the prototype of family camp we’ve developed over the past 44 years, this virtual edition has everything, from memory verse song and daily devotions, to great teaching for adults and children, family time handouts, and book reviews—even the game show! If you haven’t checked it out, please do! Share it with others!! It’s free and you can do it as it fits into your life schedule. It’s available on our website at www.himweb.org.
Paul also developed a series of 13 talks on “Relational Health during COVID-19” to encourage marriages in the midst of this crazy season, as it’s become obvious to us that the worldwide lockdown has created—or at least contributed—to significant collateral damage impacting marriages and families. We are praying that during this time of trial and uncertainty, the net outcome will be clarified values and greater strength.
Paul been doing some writing as well, and we’ve had an increased demand for counseling (virtually). We’re also getting some important reading done, some of the results of which is featured in the book reviews within Virtual Family Camp. (The book reviews can also be accessed as a separate playlist on our YouTube channel.)
When we haven’t been “working,” we’ve been getting household things done. As noted in my last blog, we spent the first couple of weeks of lockdown doing closets, drawers, and the garage. I don’t know exactly what possessed me, but one day as I was in the bathroom, I couldn’t resist the slightly curling edge of our 18-year-old wallpaper, so I gave it a yank . . . and that’s all it took to launch us headlong into two bathroom make-overs. Very naively, I suggested to Paul that “all” we would have to do would be to remove the wallpaper and paint the bathroom. Simple as that!
This is how it all started.
If you’ve ever removed wallpaper, you already know where this story is going. There is nothing simple about removing wallpaper—unless you hire someone else to do it. But DIY’ers by heritage (and necessity), we rolled up our sleeves and about 20 hours of work later, the walls were stripped bare. But all that time in the bathroom revealed how bad everything else was, so over the next few days, we replaced the light fixture, the medicine cabinet, refinished the vanity, replaced the faucet, and installed a new toilet. It turned out to be anything but simple, but we are happy with the results.
Removing wallpaper is not for the faint-hearted.
Almost done.
Ah . . . finished! It wasn’t THAT bad. And we do have another bathroom . . .
But that’s not all. As that project was ending, our downstairs bathroom was calling for attention. No wallpaper to remove, and since we had repainted that bathroom within the past couple of years, I assured Paul that no painting would be required. Famous last words, right up there with “all we have to do is remove the wallpaper and repaint!” We discovered that after replacing the lights and the medicine cabinet, and all the towel bars, the bathroom DID need to be repainted…and why not change out the toilet while we’re at it?
Deja vu . . . here we go again!
Though more work than expected, it was much less than upstairs and we’re happy we did it.
At the end of both bathroom projects, Paul’s comment was, “I can’t wait ’til we can travel and speak again!”
Concurrently, I was spending every spare minute working on scrapbooking albums to give Kari on her 40th birthday, May 27. This meant sorting through hundreds of photos before even getting to the scrapbooking stage, which was delightful but oh so time consuming. I’m happy to say that I successfully completed the project before we flew to California on May 26 and Kari now has her “life” in photos up through age 25.
Scrapbooking . . . a fun, time-consuming, messy project . . . but so worth it.
April 24 came and went without a great deal of fanfare, though marking our 44th year of marriage is certainly worth making a big deal over. We both decided a delayed celebration was warranted when we could go out to dinner and make a “proper fuss.” We were very thankful for dear chosen family friends who brought us a singing greeting as they wandered in front of our house.
Richard Hendricks and Guy and Barbara Steele sang “Happy Anniversary” as they walked by our house on our anniversary.
May 1 was the day we settled on to do a “Zoomemorial” in honor of my mother’s life. Though far from how we wanted to honor her, we decided that with the uncertainty of when a true funeral could be held, we would move ahead with what we could do during this season and this was the best we could come up with. In the end, we felt it did just what we needed for it to do: honor her life and bring closure to it. If you’re interested in seeing it, click on the video below.
I think she would’ve been pleased.
A couple of hours before it started, we had the sweetest visit from our dear friend Kelly, who really knows how to “show up.” She showed up the day before I flew to California on April 3 to be with my mom, ladened with essentials for my travels, including (but definitely not limited to) face masks, gloves, and hand sanitizer. She showed up the day after I returned with a vase of cherry blossoms and a sweet note. And she showed up the day of the Zoomemorial with dinner and three beautiful potted plants in honor of my mama, each bearing a card inscribed with “Welcome Home, Mama!”
Words fail to convey how meaningful it was to be on the receiving end of one so sensitive, so in tune, so sacrificial. Just what a grieving soul needs/needed. The power of presence. Gift in itself.
Kelly “showing up” the day of my mother’s “Zoomemorial” with dinner and flowers.
Paul giving the sermon for Mama’s Zoomemorial in front of our make-shift podium.
We did have the privilege of doing a webinar for a church in California on May 18 and that was . . . different, but good. I’m sure it’s true for many speakers, but audience response and participation is a pretty important part of speaking for us. So speaking to a non-responsive screen definitely lacks something important, but, as my mother would say, “It’s better than a kick in the head.” And then there’s the time issue: speaking from the east to a west coast congregation means 7 pm for them is 10 pm for us! We managed to stay awake for the whole presentation. We actually loved partnering with River City Christian Church for “Home Improvement—Marriage Edition” and received very positive feedback from them.
One last project before we headed west: masks! Since they’re required just about everywhere currently, I pulled out my trusty sewing machine (which is accustomed to sewing flannel endlessly in December but getting to sleep the rest of the year) and turned out about a dozen masks for our kids and grandkids.
The mask project.
Ana modeling her mask.
We’ve spent the last week in Oakland, CA, celebrating Kari’s 40th birthday and exploring their new “hood.” Driven by a passion for a multi-ethnic church in an urban setting, and sensing that God had placed in their hearts a call specific to Oakland, they uprooted from their home of 7 years in Santa Clarita, CA, and moved to Oakland on May 1. Lisa, Paul, and I joined them in their rented apartment for the week and spent most days discovering their new life. Oakland, for all its challenges, has many beautiful parks and hiking trails which the Garcias are intentionally tapping in to. Their church planting project is sponsored by the Orchard Group, and they are partnering with the Solano Evangelical Free Church which meets in nearby Albany.
As difficult as it is to make a move during the pandemic, God has been faithfully meeting them as they walk the streets meeting neighbors and planting seeds. A silver lining of this season is that many more people are “home” and therefore out walking the streets, sitting on front porches, etc, so Gabe and Kari have met a surprising number of people in the month they’ve been here. We loved hearing their hearts and catching more of their vision for what God is calling them to do.
Besides that, we had a great time celebrating Kari in a relatively low key way due to the many restrictions in place. She was well loved by her family and many friends who made sure she was affirmed in many ways.
Paul and I are still left wondering how in the world young folks like us could have a 40-year-old daughter?? Crazy!!!
The newly minted 40 year old and her sweet family celebrate!!
Many fun hikes . . .
. . . and trips to the beach.
We are home now, looking at a “canceled” summer: canceled family camps and a canceled family reunion. Canceled celebrations of several family milestone birthdays. Canceled showers and weddings. And in the midst of these unprecedented times, we are painfully aware of a nation in turmoil over race relations and injustices. We hear and see the pain of our Black brothers and sisters who have been deeply wounded by systemic racism. We hear and see the pain of our friends who wear Blue and Badges with integrity and honor, putting their lives on the line every time they work a shift, and who condemn brutality by any, but especially by those who wear the same uniform and badge they wear. As we walk with people whose marriages are being challenged, whose kids are rebelling, who have experienced significant losses (deaths of family members and/or financial assets/jobs), who are struggling to navigate this “new world” as contradictory report upon contradictory report confuses us even more and sadly divides us more deeply, we hear and see the pain.
Greater still, He hears and sees our pain . . . all of it. God says to the Israelites in Jeremiah 31:13: “I will turn their mourning into joy, I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow.” What a desperately needed promise for us to embrace. Key is noting who or what will turn their mourning in to joy and give them comfort.
As despair and hopelessness threaten to take up permanent residence, we are more convinced the ever that our hope is not in government, or in people acting the way they should, or in programs and policies that may attempt to right the wrongs, even though each of these could contribute to a more peaceful and fair world. But the depth of our brokenness is so much greater than any human being, policy, or legislation can fix. So Jeremiah reminds us that our mourning will be turned into joy by God Himself, and He will comfort us.
That doesn’t release us from our actions, reactions, thoughts, decisions, and determination to move ahead with Christlikeness.
And so we pray with broken hearts and tears, “If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14)
Help us to be His people: humble, prayerful, seeking Him, forgiven, and contributing to the healing of our land.
Our hope is in Him . . . and Him alone.
