the bed that opened to a view of a world that wrapped itself around a small scantily frequented bird feeder. The sun would gently sweep the windows toward the end of the day with all the colors that creation could muster up for that moment. And with the curtains pulled in the evening, the moon would still manage to squeeze a few loving wisps of soft night light into the little room. Whatever the intensity or color of the light, it would always grace the cheeks of her beautiful face in a way that made her radiate the love of her Saviour. This was her room with the final view.
She had diligently cared for two husbands that had been taken home to Heaven by cancer. She stayed close by to comfort them in their suffering; to coddle and to cradle them in the loving care that only “The Saviour” could extend through her to them. Her tears would trace through the lines on her face until they would end up emptying into her smile as she would assure them ... “Jesus has all things ready”, and “We will all see you soon!” This scene was filled with such otherworldly compassion that it had power to shake the coldest of visitors, that they too would consider their end. Some had even said, “I wish I had a wife and Mother like you!” ; and she would let them know that their greatest need was Jesus, and in trusting Him they could have Heaven as their home too.
Some would say to her in her last days (without thinking)… “Theresa, you cared so graciously for two husbands who died from cancer, isn't it ironical that God would allow you to suffer with cancer also? You must hate cancer?”. Mom's response was amazing … “How can I hate something that is taking me to Jesus? Cancer is my friend, not my enemy.” Oh, she would wince and groan with pain, and desire that it go away, but in the same breath thank God for the moments that she could still spend with those she loved.
It was my privilege (for just a few happenstance moments) to come upon her while she was napping or sleeping what appeared to be a sleep of great contentment (though many times she would awake to pain caused by her friend named Cancer). Upon placing a gentle kiss on her forehead (to my delight), her eyelids would flutter, her beautiful multi-hued brown eyes would twinkle with excitement, and her face would radiate with a welcoming smile. Then she would say with such passionate emotion, “Oh, I am so glad to see you, I've been waiting for you … Jesus!” Then with a childlike giggle she would say “Just practicing; but I am so glad to see you too, my Preacher Son”.
Was Mom perfect … far from it, but she knew that her God was perfect, even if she could only see bits and pieces of that perfection through her suffering. Mom would not want a single “jot or tittle” of credit for this written memory of her; her desire would be that we would know that Jesus loves us. She would say, “If Jesus can love me, surely He loves you!”
To be part of the practice session of a saint longing for Heaven is a moment that has no words to express the anchoring of the soul in that moment. For some strange reason I almost felt the clapping of the wings of angels as they celebrated near by in response to that form of humble exultation. She never saw Jesus with her naked eyes, but through the eyes of her heart she saw clearly the active promises of His Word fulfilled in her life . She never physically tasted the sweet realities of eternity's wonders, but still positioned her flesh to the urges of the spirit. Though the flesh was being ravaged by the pain of cancer's suffering, it could not completely quench the gentle praises of her soul set free.
O, If daily we could stay so longingly amazed with the love of our Lord, that the value of knowing Him would capture our moments in such a way that others would be caused to love Him also. “And now little children, abide in Him; that, when He shall appear, we may have confidence, and not be ashamed before Him at His coming. I John 2:28
Happy Mother's Day 2014 –
In Loving Memory of Mom, Theresa Dean Redding Lambe
"Mom, we love Jesus more because of you!"
HLFA,
Jeff