Today is day three of Sandy’s end of life journey. She had a very peaceful night and now more than anything looks resting and when she makes the small sounds she is, it’s more the sounds of a someone reacting to a sweet or pleasant dream. For that, I am grateful.
I had an epiphany of sorts yesterday. Sandy’s journey from where I sit is resounding proofs that miracles…still happen.
When we, as people of faith think about miracles and the context of them, I think we often reflect on water turning into the finest of wine, or perhaps loaves and fishes sustaining the multitudes. We think BIG. I know, this is true for myself so much so that we miss the little miracles that happen. Every. Single. Day.
Sandy’s life and her forthcoming death are two sides on the same miracle coin. Birth and death are indelibly tied to the miracle of life. Sandy arrived in the world on June 28, 1935 the date of her birth — a miracle that happened some 81 years ago.
And I stand in waiting…given the gift of helping her on her final journey through her life and assisting her in the miracle that will be her death. Miracle? Yes. It is miraculous to me that our Creator, our Maker knew the exact hour that Sandy would enter the world, leave her mark on the lives she touched, the lives she created… and that our same Creator is applying the finishing stitches that are her life and is the sole determiner of her life’s end.
These past few days have been perhaps one of my greatest gifts. The ability to support Eric in this journey, the gift of providing Sandy with the comfort that she needs to feel ready and ultimately able to leave this world with a destination of seeing dearly departed loved ones, and an eternal life free of pain.