30 07 2018


Photo by Pok Rie from Pexels

Transition is the word they use to mark the shift from laboring to give birth to giving birth.

The time has come for emergence from warm dark waters into bright light, gulp of air, expanse of space, and rush of unmuffled sound. Sheltered senses shaken awake, infant life finds its voice and joins the chorus of humanity. And at least one little corner of the world rejoices.

Transition is the word she used to mark the shift from laboring to die to dying.

And shouldn’t it be so? For isn’t death in Christ emergence from this mortal womb to hear, see, taste, breathe for the first time all things new? Temporal senses shaken awake, redeemed life finds its voice and joins the eternal song in communion with the saints. And all heaven rejoices. 

So we, like midwives, hold his hands, kiss his brow, whisper words, songs, hymns, prayers, and wait in this momentary weight of sorrow — all creation groaning with us — for another son to be revealed. 

Unseen watchers stand, hands outstretched to welcome realest life to Realest Real. And then the time (the day, hour, moment written) comes. 

Windows open to his soul; he sees! One last gasp of lesser air; he’s free!

Just like that, beloved, weary, mortal womb — like the tomb — now lies empty. His labor past, he passed (the test) into his rest in peace. 


We will all be changed: mourning to dancing, weeping to laughing, sorrow to gladness, sadness to joy. Glory to glory to highest, fullest, truest glory. All things beautiful in His time.

In His time.

See you then, Dad.

* * *

My daddy went to Heaven at 3:00 in the afternoon on July 23. I watched him go. As long as I live, I will never forget the holy, aching beauty of that moment. About six years ago, he asked me to write his obituary when the time came. He said, “Just say, ‘He loved his family.'” I said a little bit more than that. If you’re interested, you can read it here.  



11 responses

30 07 2018

It is a great gift to be witness to this passage. I was next to my mama when her eyes popped wide after days of unconsciousness. And I swear I saw her fly straight to Jesus as I thanked her for loving me so well. And all around her bed, I knew those dear ones on the other side were gathered to lift her sweet spirit home. It is a mystery and a great glory and I will be forever grateful I was there. Some ‘choose’ to die alone, as my daddy did 13 years ago, just minutes after my mom took a brief respite from his bedside. But mom let me be there. I am so glad.

30 07 2018

I’m so glad you had this experience with your mama, Diana. Such a sweet gift. And yes, a mystery and great glory. I’m forever grateful, too. Love to you, friend.

30 07 2018
Lois Leftwich

Jeanne, beautifully expressed yet again.

30 07 2018

Thank you! xo

30 07 2018

I love reading everything you write, Aunt Jeanne. You write beautiful things.

30 07 2018

Thank you, Michelle. Love you!

30 07 2018
Kay Southerland

Your words… Touching, stirring awakening.
Giving out of your loss. Sharing from a heart that rests in Father’s presence. A blessing to those who are graced by your gift. Lovely, healing, uplifting. Thank you Jeanne.

31 07 2018

Thank you, dear Kay. Your words are a gift. Love to you.

31 07 2018
Kathy Malesovas

Beautifully expressed, as was you lovely obituary! What a great guy my dear brother was!

31 07 2018

Thanks, Aunt Kathy. Love you!

31 07 2018
Diana Fleenor

It’s a blessing to my heart to read your experience of being with your dad as he passed. Being in the presence of family must have been a gift to him. Holy love to you, Jeanne!

Your comments are a gift. Please know I read each one with gratitude.

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