Susan you beautifully describe the end of our journey with family members. Without an eternal perspective, where does one look for comfort? We lost a sister on Easter Sunday. Though we long for our heavenly reunion with Christ, it’s difficult to find words to comfort our dear ones who have no such hope. You are the temple of the Lord your father in law comes to for help. We pray for you as you faithfully love and care for him with the fruit of the Spirit dwelling in you. Walk on dear sister. I love you.
Precious Susan, This side of heaven, you'll never know what "home" meant to you, FIL, as you so said, "On that day." It changes all the time.
My Bill would ask on a drive home from the cancer center, "Are we going to the farm?"
At first, I'd try to explain that the farm was in Virginia and we live in SC, until a friend explained what he was really asking was: "Are you taking me where I'll be safe?" In those moments, the best we can do is divert their attention as much as possible and pour out extra love, with prayers to the God of all comfort, to soothe their weary soul and strengthen us to dry our tears and continue to love unconditionally without understanding. The other thing I learned is that it's ok to lie and say things like, "We're on the way." Then stop for ice cream and pray they forget where they wanted to go as they decide on a flavor. Also, make sure the dog greets them when you get home.
I know it's different for everyone, and I pray that what helped me will help you too.
Susan you beautifully describe the end of our journey with family members. Without an eternal perspective, where does one look for comfort? We lost a sister on Easter Sunday. Though we long for our heavenly reunion with Christ, it’s difficult to find words to comfort our dear ones who have no such hope. You are the temple of the Lord your father in law comes to for help. We pray for you as you faithfully love and care for him with the fruit of the Spirit dwelling in you. Walk on dear sister. I love you.
Precious Susan, This side of heaven, you'll never know what "home" meant to you, FIL, as you so said, "On that day." It changes all the time.
My Bill would ask on a drive home from the cancer center, "Are we going to the farm?"
At first, I'd try to explain that the farm was in Virginia and we live in SC, until a friend explained what he was really asking was: "Are you taking me where I'll be safe?" In those moments, the best we can do is divert their attention as much as possible and pour out extra love, with prayers to the God of all comfort, to soothe their weary soul and strengthen us to dry our tears and continue to love unconditionally without understanding. The other thing I learned is that it's ok to lie and say things like, "We're on the way." Then stop for ice cream and pray they forget where they wanted to go as they decide on a flavor. Also, make sure the dog greets them when you get home.
I know it's different for everyone, and I pray that what helped me will help you too.