God is with us

If someone had told me, this time last year, that come September 2009 my mother would no longer be with us, it would have seemed completed unbelievable, quite simply not possible. The death of people close to us is something of which we are all naturally frightened. We are frightened of what the world will be like without them, we are frightened of the process of death and grief and we are frightened of how we will (or will not) cope with all of these things.

From the moment I picked up an e-mail from my mother last December announcing that she had somewhere between nine months and a year to live, whilst obviously shocked and upset, I nevertheless had an overwhelming sense that God was with us and that God’s hand was all over the situation. There was a strange sense of calm and a renewed urgency to try to rejoice in God and in his way of doing things. I urged everyone in the family to never forget to give thanks to God for all things for, convinced that by so doing, we could be sure that God would take care of everything.

However, there remained the agonising process of watching a loved one die a painful death. One could have been forgiven for asking, how could God possible have a hand in such a profoundly sad and painful situation as a death sentence? … a sentence of wall-to-wall suffering for my mother for a full nine months as it turned out? We could have been forgiven for railing at God, for demanding of him, “how could you? How could you even think of such a dreadful end for such a faithful servant of yours?” (and she had been remarkably faithful for all her life).

That would have been the obvious and very human reaction to such a catastrophic diagnosis, until mum herself reminded us of the words from Job, words with stayed with her throughout her illness: “If we accept joy from God’s hands must we not also accept suffering?” (Job 2:10)

We only have to look at the life of Jesus to know that the authentic Christian journey is likely to include suffering, for God did not spare his only Son from the horrors of the events of Good Friday. God does not shield us from suffering, but I have no doubt that, with faith, he gives us his grace in order to bear it. St Francis de Sales says:

“Do not look forward to the changes and chances of this life in fear. God, to whom you belong, will lead you safely through all things; and when you cannot stand he will bear you safely in his arms. Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow. The same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow and every day. Either he will shield you from suffering or he will give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace, then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginings.”

At any time of our life we are asked to hand ourselves over to God, to give up our lives to him and for him and for his work. This may sometimes feel like being asked too much, like being drawn into a desert into which we would rather not go. But, it is worth remembering that it is in the desert that God works his greatest wonders, and it was in the desert of watching my mother suffer and eventually die, and in the desert of grief at her passing that we all felt the wonder of God’s comfort provided to us by the loving prayers of all those who were praying for us. Now, if the loving attentions of mere mortals are a powerful comfort and consolation, how much more so God’s? God was with us, his loving hand upon our family in a way which words could probably not describe, and it brought to mind this beautiful psalm ….

O Lord, you search me and you know me,
you know my resting and my rising,
you discern my purpose from afar.
You mark when I walk or lie down,
all my ways lie open to you.

Before ever a word is on my tongue,
you know it, O Lord, through and through.
Behind and before me you stand,
your hand ever laid upon me.

O where can I go from your spirit,
or where can I flee from your face?
If I climb the heavens, you are there,
If I lie in the grave, you are there.

If I take the wings of dawn
and dwell at the sea’s furthest end,
even there your hand would lead me,
your right hand would hold me fast.

For it was you who created my being,
knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I thank you for the wonder of my being,
for the wonders of all your creation.

Already you knew my soul,
my body held no secret from you
when I was being fashioned in secret
and moulded in the depths of the earth.
(Psalm 138/139)

On the day she left us, and looking for comfort from God’s Word, I looked at what the Mass readings were for that day, and there, set out before me, was yet more proof that God was with us and providing us with all that we so desperately needed, for this was what he put before us on that most painful of days:

The souls of the virtuous are in the hands of God, no torment shall ever touch them. In the eyes of the unwise, they did appear to die, their going looked like a disaster, their leaving us, like annihilation; but they are at peace. God has put them to the test and proved them worthy to be with him; he has tested them like gold in a furnace, and accepted them as a holocaust. They who trust in him will understand the truth, those who are faithful will live with him in love. (Wisdom 3:1-9)