Saying Goodbye and Loving Well

It is not often that we have the privilege and foreknowledge that we need to say goodbye to someone we love. Of having the time, whatever little time it is, to be able to express our heart's deepest appreciations and life's fondest memories to someone that we love. What an interesting and deeply moving and emotional time the last few months have been for our family.

We found out in mid-January, the my Auntie Barbara - my mom's only sister and my only living Aunt - has merely months to live. Those moments are surreal, if you have experienced them to any degree. You mean, we won't have her on this earth after that? You mean, this is it? You mean, it's time to say... gulp, goodbye?

Or think of it from the perspective of the one receiving the news - knowing you have limited days left to live on earth. What do you do? How do you choose to spend it? What do you choose to say and how do you choose to be intentional with the time?

All of these questions have filled my mind over these last few months as family has flown into Colorado from all over the country to say their goodbyes. Since I have not had the luxury of getting to go in person, I have been so grateful to chat over the computer and send in hand-written memories and heart-felt thanks. Such a strange and surreal time. A deep yet profoundly simple time of focusing on one thing - loving and loving well. Because at the end of the day - that is all that matters, right?

I have even thought how uncomfortable it is, despite it's privilege, of saying goodbye in person. Many of us may be more comfortable, despite the pain and suddenness, of saying goodbye after the loved one is already gone. Or more comfortable maybe when in a state where you are not sure they are hearing you just right or are completely aware of what you are saying. Strange as that sounds, think about it.

It goes without saying that the past month has been a blessing for me to pull back the pages of memories and record them down again in words and to speak them to my sweet Aunt. It has not been without a major breakdown of grief and sadness or even a hearty laugh from funny memories from time to time. What a blessing for her and for those who love her to do this while she is still with us.

I asked her grandson, my cousin Taylor, how he was doing at the news of her last days and he said many things, but ended with, "we will just keep loving her well until the end.".

How can I love those around me ... well? My husband? My children? My closest girlfriends? Those in my Community Group? Those that I pass on the street and don't know by name? It all matters, it's all important, it's all necessary and yet it's a good reminder that we can't do that well or fully without Christ.

Kate's memory verse for February (and subsequently, one of mine as well) is:

"We love because He first loved us." 1 John 4:19

I pray Auntie Barbara knows that those around her - including my mom and dad who are spending almost every waking hour at her side these days - are able to love her well, not just because of what she means to them but because Christ loved them first.

I pray that Auntie Barbara knows that those who are serving her meals and sending in their words of gratitude are only able to love and express love because the One who loved first and most, whether they even realize it or not.

That is how we even know how to love.

I pray that Auntie Barbara sees in these last days that there is only One who can love her most fully and it is Christ.

Jesus Christ.

The one who died, was buried and rose again to sit at the right hand of our Father in Heaven. The One who was fully man and fully God.

And who, though so completely undeserving on our parts, took on our imperfection and sin and and as Kate says, "punishment" - becoming our substitute - so that our Heavenly Father would accept us as His sons and daughters and see us as clean and spotless children.

The gospel - now, that's beautiful.

That's love.

That's loving well.

That's loving perfectly.

Auntie Barbara is still with us, by God's grace. Each day a gift.