There's a Hole in the World

When I decided to focus this first month of the Sabbatical upon family, I had no idea just how intense this would be. I had planned to spend time with my mother in June before any long-distance travel. Unfortunately, I had to see her in the hospital and witness the agony she was experiencing from the results of her chemotherapy. We all thought it would be a temporary recovery time. Her pain intensified and her struggle to breathe worsened. On Monday, I returned to Bryan with my two sisters in Bryan as Mom was moved to the Critical Care Unit. She had double pneumonia and e-coli poisoning. I likened it to a perfect storm of ailments. The steep incline back to recovery along with her already compromised immune system was too great and she found her eternal peace Thursday evening.

The time around my mother afforded the greatest concentration of family time with my two sisters ever, at least as adults. In spite of the severity of the crisis, I was impressed with just how great a team we made, the three of us. Mom was aware, I know, that we were there and that we were together. Even with all of the pain, I know she was smiling inwardly for she loved it when we were gathered as family.

The memorial service is tomorrow. We came back to Rockwall to regroup. As my sister Janel and I drove away from Bryan, I looked in the rear-view mirror and sensed this great vast emptiness. I turned to my sister and said, "There's a hole in the world." There was a hole in the world when my father died, but now, there's a really big hole in the world. The hole can never be filled in. It's quite disorienting. There's a great sense of lostness when both parents have gone on to eternity. All the old earthly anchors seem to have vanished. The song, "Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child" came up on my iPod and I would have lost it if I had not been driving. I'm reminded of Genesis 1:2 where it says, Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. Somewhere in all of the emptiness I'm experiencing, I know God's Spirit is hovering. It's settling upon the depth and darkness of my grief and shining a new light. It will take time, but the new lasting, eternal light will lead me to an even stronger anchor for the years to come.

If you'd like to see my mother's tribute, click on the following link: http://www.hillierfuneralhome.com/obituaries/Miriam-Patricia-Irons1401407283/#/ObitAndService