Final Moments

Easter is my favorite. 

I have been reading about the last days of Jesus this week. As he was heading closer to the cross, he was sharing such deep truth with his disciples. Such divine moments with them. Washing their feet, promising them hope, telling them of the Holy Spirit, sharing glimpses of eternity. 

There is something powerful in absorbing someone’s last words, last moments. 

Many things happened during the holy week, of course. Rebuke of the Pharisees, parables, confrontation of sin… All things that point to the power and truth of Christ.

But John’s account of the holy week is different from the other gospels. This self-professed disciple whom Jesus loved communicates just that: Jesus’ love. There is something sacred in those verses in John between the Triumphal Entry and the Resurrection. 

Jesus was preparing them. He was encouraging them. He was giving them his last instructions. Instructions that came from his heart. The weight of eternity hanging on them.

I have chosen you. Bear much fruit. Abide in my love. Don’t let your hearts be troubled. He prayed for them, a prayer of great submission, of protection, of sanctifying, and of great desire to have them join him in heaven to see the beauty of his glory.

John is my favorite gospel. (Probably because he’s the one who talks about Andrew.) Reading John’s account is being let in on a personal, intimate conversation. 

Sitting at the doorstep of death brings about some urgency, yet also some stillness. 

I often relive the details of my last week with Mason. Of course it was just any other week to me at the time. I had no idea these moments would be my last with him. But even in my obliviousness I can see how God gave me little gifts. He knew it was a sacred week for me, even if I didn’t and he filled it with special little moments.

I struggle with moments most of the time. Like when I’m holding a newborn and people say, “Oh, enjoy this! It goes so fast.” And I’m thinking, not fast enough! I’m exhausted and overwhelmed and they won’t stop crying!

So often, life is just too full and I get caught up in the busyness. And I struggle with the daily. The messes and the to-do’s are always piling up so no, I don’t really want to jump on the trampoline or play with legos right now. Because let’s face it, if the kids are happy it’s a pretty convenient time to load the dishwasher. 

But I remember slowing down a bit that week. I remember watching my kids in the backyard and laughing with Mason while he practiced the guitar and Griffin ran in and joined us with his ukulele. I remember taking him to Target to spend his birthday money and actually enjoying all the remote control car options. And I didn’t even feel rushed when we got home and he wanted to drive it on the street past bedtime. 

It was as though God was saying, I know this weekend holds the worst nightmare you will ever face. I know your world is about to be rocked. I know you will miss him more than your heart can handle. So here are gifts of moments. I am going to enable you to delight in them. Drink them in. This week is sacred. These moments are sacred. They will become sustenance to you in the years to come. Something you can hold on to. To comfort you, to remind you. And more than anything just to know… To know that I love you.

My favorite final gift that week was my last night at home with Mason. He had hurt his foot playing in the yard and it was super late and he was so tired and emotional. So I wrapped his foot in a bandaid and just sat with him in the rocking chair to calm him down. I remember feeling so content in the moment. 

At one point, Mason lifted his head and said, “I’m ready to go to my room now.” So I carried him in and laid him down and I said something I rarely say, “Want me to lay down with you?” Honestly, the time the kids finally go to bed is sacred. The quiet at the end of the day is my own little slice of heaven. And usually, I rush to it way too fast. But that night it was as though God ushered me into some final minutes I would cherish forever. He gave me a gift that night. I laid there with Mason until he fell asleep and my mind wasn’t elsewhere. It was right there in the moment with him. Enjoying him.

The rest of the weekend was a horrifying blow. It took a little while before I could reflect back on the gifts God gave me in those final days. But as I did, even those moments that felt like lasts, were really glimpses of something beautiful to come. 

In those final days with his disciples, Jesus was telling them that there is so much more. There is hope! There is redemption. “Your sorrow will turn to joy!” The cross is going to be an awful, terrifying moment for everyone. It’s going to feel so final. 

But it’s so temporary. 

“You have sorrow now, but I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice, and no one can take your joy from you.” John 16:22

He has gone to prepare a place for us. He longs to have us there with him!

Losing Mason has made me long for heaven like never before. His death was unreal. My naive, blissful ignorance had always comforted me with the false hope that it just was never going to be one of my kids. Never going to happen to me. The shock it gave my life will never go away. 

But through it, I have more clearly understood that it’s temporary. That death was defeated. Defeated! That’s a really, really big deal! The magnitude of that power and hope changes everything. 

I am thankful for the moments. I’m thankful for the sacred glimpse of Jesus’ love. I’m thankful that during the holy week he wasn’t just saying goodbye, I love you. He was saying, this is temporary. There is so much more! I can’t wait for you to join me! 

Sometimes I feel stuck between the Friday of loss and the Sunday of victory. This world is weary and the pain of death is too much to bear. And as the years pass and the pain doesn’t ease, I look forward to Easter with such hopeful longing, knowing everything hinges on this day.

And I find great hope and comfort in what Jesus said as he was facing death himself.

“Take heart. I have overcome the world.”