This month makes a little over a year since my mother has moved in with us. All total there have been two strokes (that we know of) that have rendered her unable to care for herself as she once did.
This picture was from sometime last year when she could actually walk by herself. She hated that I would not let her walk alone, because no one likes to have their independence taken away from them.
I wish that she could walk like this now.
I’ve given this all a lot of thought… especially since the second stroke back in March. I believe that life has purpose an meaning, and I have scraped my philosophy and theology to figure out what this means for her. Surely, even at the end of our lives, we still have value and meaning, right?
I think that we as the church in the west do very little to prepare ourselves to die. We cling to life and good health. We do everything medically possible to keep us alive. We pray and plead with God to heal us and keep us here for as long as we can. Even tho we truly believe in heaven, we don’t want to go there just yet. When our loved ones die, we weep and mourn and doubt God even tho, eventually, we all will walk that same road ourselves.
Why? I don’t know. The answers aren’t there for me yet.