Grief

Homesick

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.
Philippians 1:21

To Stay or Go?

Many Christians have a life verse that sums up their calling and motivates them in their walk with the Lord. I have so many verses that sustain me depending on what I’m going through that I long thought it would be impossible to pick just one. I finally realized Philippians 1:21 was it.

After the Apostle Paul made the bold declaration recorded in that verse, he went on to say:

If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account (Philippians 1:22-24).

Paul was in a Roman prison when he wrote the letter to the believers in Philippi. Surely, he would have been better off had the Lord delivered him by calling him Home, yet he was willing to stay for the sake of the gospel and his brothers and sisters in Christ.

Holding on for Our Sake

I thought of this passage multiple times as I sat by Mom’s bedside as she spent the last days of her life in the hospital. I can’t imagine the pain she was in or how much she suffered, physically and emotionally, after she had surgery to repair her hip, broken in a fall. She was barely ever still, and the bruises from the fall, her surgery, and multiple blood draws created a pitiful patchwork on her paper-thin skin.

Those caring for her marveled that one so tiny could endure so much. Yet those of us who knew Mom best recognized the determination that had kept her going when faced with difficulties throughout her life, based on her faith and summarized in her life verse: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13). After loving us so well for so long, it was as if she didn’t want to leave us, even though it would have been so much better for her to depart and be with her Savior.

Letting Go of Loved Ones

Mom was my best friend, lifelong cheerleader, and most ardent prayer warrior. I couldn’t imagine life without her, much less praying for the Lord to call her Home. Even so, after watching her struggle mightily without making any progress toward recovery, that’s precisely what I did.

Still, she lingered. It was only days, but they were days that felt like months, as one dissolved into another. A friend observed, “Maybe there’s one more person for the Lord to touch with her life.” Perhaps there was.

Mom passed away ten days after she fell. She had fought the good fight, finished the race, and was pain-free in the presence of Jesus at last. I rejoiced in her victory over death, secured by the blood of Christ (1 Corinthians 15:54-57).

Longing for Home

I recently had the opportunity to visit my childhood home. When the current owner noticed my second slow drive-by, she came out to see what was up. As I approached her in the driveway, I introduced myself and apologized for bothering her. I was so overcome with emotion that I could barely speak the words: “I grew up in this house.”

I didn’t ask to go in, but even after exiting the house for the last time 37 years ago, I can still envision the exact layout of the rooms, as well as the furnishings. And when my dreams feature a house I’ve lived in, it’s always that one, despite the fact I’ve lived in my current home almost three times as long.

Pondering the wave of emotion that swept over me as I stood in front of my childhood home has led me to wonder what it will be like when I get to my forever Home, the one Jesus is preparing for me (John 14:2-3). I bet it will feel familiar and oh-so-perfect because, as C.S. Lewis said, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”

Promised Reunion

Mom and Dad, my husband, baby sister, grandparents, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters-in-law, friends – the list of loved ones who’ve gone on to Glory keeps growing. Just as watching loved ones suffer changes our perspective, making it easier to let them go, having more loved ones in Heaven makes it even dearer. Though being in the presence of Christ is enough to fuel our desire to depart and be with Him, the assurance of a grand reunion adds to our longing for Home.

I began with my life verse, and I will end with one of my very favorite passages, one that gives us that assurance and makes me want to shout, “Hallelujah! I can’t wait!” whenever I read it:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:1-4).

Dear Lord, we long to be with You and rejoice in knowing that one day You will call us Home to live with You forever. Until that day, please help us be faithful to walk worthy of Christ’s gospel and diligent in completing the good works You’ve prepared for us.

Joys and Sorrows, Past and Present

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:18

Missing Mom

I’m never sure how anniversaries and special occasions associated with now-departed loved ones will affect me. For some reason, the sorrow of facing another Mother’s Day, my fifth, without my beloved mother weighed heavily on me this year.

The floral shop is one of the first things I see when I enter the grocery store I frequent each week. I usually stroll by casually, perusing the pretty flowers and checking out the clearance section. After all, a bedraggled houseplant might need a home. However, on my shopping expedition a few days before Mother’s Day, I walked by briskly, trying not to gaze too long at the department overflowing with beautiful bouquets and cheerful balloons. I concentrated on my list instead of the fact that I wouldn’t be picking out anything for Mom. My heart ached knowing her sweet little self would have loved anything and everything I selected.

Timely Reminders

I returned home, put away my groceries, and opened my laptop to check email while I sipped the Starbucks tea I’d treated myself to. Fortunately, before I slipped any further into my melancholy musings, Tim Challies’ post, “Proud of Her on Mother’s Day,” caught my eye. Tim’s recounting of how his wife has graciously and faithfully carried on since the sudden death of their oldest child several years ago served as a gentle exhortation from the Lord. These lines, in particular, resonated with me: 

(S)he doesn’t allow herself to sink into her grief and become incapacitated by it. She has just one life to live and only the present moment to live it. She has determined she will not allow the sorrow of the sorrows to overwhelm the joy of the joys . . . Why miss the joys for grief? Why allow one great sorrow to overwhelm so many blessings great and small?[1]

His statement reminded me, in turn, of a favorite Elisabeth Elliot quote, “Teach me never to let the joy of what has been pale the joy of what is.”

Refocusing

Grief is too complicated to reduce to a glass-half-full or half-empty mindset. Still, instead of allowing myself to focus on Mom’s absence, I endeavored to focus on the blessing of having a godly mother whose presence graced my life for 62 years, whose steadfast faith and ardent prayers shaped my existence, whose love I still feel every day, and whose mottos come to mind daily as well.

Likewise, when I gathered with my children and grandchildren, fortified with the timely reminders from Tim and Elisabeth, I did not let the sorrow of loss overshadow the joyful blessings of the present. I gratefully received my family’s charming expressions of affection – hugs, cards, both handmade and store-bought, and a delicious lunch prepared and served with love.

Family Blessings

As He often does in His over-and-above ways (Ephesians 3:20), God added a special surprise to my day. One of my nephews and his wife were in the area visiting her family on Saturday, and they stayed over to join us for church and lunch. Not only did they add to the joy and laughter of our celebration, but they also shared the happy news that they’re expecting a baby later this year.

The cycle of births and deaths will continue until Jesus returns. We will grieve the loss of loved ones and welcome new little ones, knowing that one day, we’ll be together in the presence of God, reunited forever. We’ll get to know generations of family members and marvel and rejoice at the way God wove us into His family and His great big story. Until then, may we treasure the memories of those who have gone before us while savoring the present with those who fill our lives now.

Dear Lord, thank You for the blessing of family, whether immediate or distant, by blood, by marriage, or by faith, present physically or in our memories. And let us never forget the privilege of being your beloved children, for that is who we are in Christ (John 1:12).

[1] “Proud of Her on Mother’s Day,” Tim Challies, Challies.com, May 9, 2025.

Faithful God

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.
Deuteronomy 31:8

Know therefore that the Lord your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations.
(Deuteronomy 7:9)

Benefits of Aging?

This spring, our women’s Bible study has been working through Aging With Grace, Flourishing in an Anti-Aging Culture by Sharon Betters and Susan Hunt. Each time we meet, we begin with announcements and an ice-breaker. Last time, our question was, “Name one advantage or blessing you associate with aging.”

Some of us chuckled since it’s more common to have a litany of complaints instead of a list of blessings when it comes to aging – sagging skin, aching joints, a decrease in stamina, and an increase in episodes of “What was I looking for when I came into this room?” to name a few. But I knew my answer immediately because I’ve said it countless times in recent years: One of my favorite things about getting older is having more and more examples of God’s faithfulness to add to my mental file folder.

Sovereign Over Every Detail

In my last post, “April, A Month of Contrasts,” I described how difficult the last two weeks of April are because of the anniversaries of my husband’s and mother’s deaths. This year, I’ve been more intentional than usual about remembering Mom’s final days, motivated in part by coming alongside friends who are walking loved ones through health crises. It’s been a painful reminiscence because of the tremendous suffering Mom endured after she fell and broke her hip. However, as I’ve thought back to the ten days between her fall and Homegoing, Facebook memories and journal entries have reminded me how God continually went before us in details and decisions, both minute and massive.

A few examples:

Prayer and a Sack Lunch. I have hypoglycemia and usually carry food with me based on which meals or snacks I’ll need while I’m away from home. The morning Mom broke her hip, I was intent on getting to the hospital as soon as I could, so I  barely ate breakfast, much less took time to pack any food for later in the day. A brief conversation with the technician who came to X-ray Mom’s hip revealed he was a fellow Christian. I asked him to pray for us, which he did on the spot. I also explained my food dilemma and asked where I could get something to eat. He said vending machines were the only option in the emergency department because the cafeteria was in the main hospital, separated from the ED by a maze of corridors and locked doors. A short while later, when I thought I’d have to subsist on crackers, chips, and soda, the technician returned with a sack lunch from the employee break room, enough nourishment to keep me going until they transferred Mom to the main hospital.

A Well-placed Physician. Once the X-ray confirmed the fracture, we were faced with two equally daunting options: Agree to surgery to repair the hip and risk losing Mom outright or let the hip heal on its own, knowing she’d probably never be able to stand up or walk again. I accompanied Mom when they moved her from the ED, and who did I see making his rounds right outside Mom’s room? The very orthopedist she’d been seeing for several years about severe pain in her knees. Incredulous but grateful for the God-ordained encounter, I briefly explained what had happened and asked Dr. Chen to look at Mom’s X-ray. He did. Then, without hesitation, he said she needed the surgery and confirmed she’d most likely be bedridden and wheelchair-bound without it. Seeing how adamant he was after being equally adamant for years that he wouldn’t risk doing knee surgery on Mom helped us understand how high the stakes were and informed the first of many difficult decisions we’d have to make.

Daily Directions. Mom made it through the surgery, but ultimately, the trauma she experienced from the fall and operation was too much for her tiny body to handle. Our initial goal of getting her back home evolved as challenges mounted. In a matter of days, we went from approving PT and OT to authorizing palliative care. We requested the nurses stop drawing Mom’s blood and checking her vitals because the procedures increased her agitation. Finally, we determined to bring her home with hospice care. There was no opening for the in-home option that day, but a room was available at Tranquility, the in-patient hospice facility. In that aptly-named haven, away from the ever-present noise and activity of the hospital, Mom finally got to rest. Barely 24 hours after her arrival, she slipped peacefully into the presence of Jesus.

Doubts Dismissed

Ten days from Mom’s fall to her Homegoing. It seemed so much longer. Days ran into nights, which ran into more days, all filled with one gut-wrenching decision after another. Could I have done more? Should I have made different choices? I expressed my doubts and misgivings to our pastor a few weeks after Mom’s death. He replied, “Your leadership brought about a God-honoring, peaceful end for your mother, surrounded by her family.”

I know that leadership was only possible because the Lord went before me, directing and redirecting me the entire time. He answered my prayers for wisdom (James 1:5) and heard the petitions of the multitude praying for us.

Extensive Evidence

Examples of God’s faithfulness during Mom’s final days reside among myriad other examples amassed over 28 years of widowhood, including 14 years of His faithful provision since I lost my job. They support and reinforce my testimony: God is faithful. We can trust Him to keep all His promises. He’ll never leave or forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:8).

When we stand at the entrance to a dark valley filled with trials, we don’t know how long or deep it will be, but Jesus does. Not only does He understand the way we must take, but He will also travel the path with us (Hebrews 4:15-16). And, when it’s our turn to face the final valley of the shadow of death, we can rest assured that we will come out safely on the other side because our gentle Shepherd has gone before us to make a way (Psalm 23:4; John 10:27-29). He will lead us into the eternal light of His presence (Revelation 22:5).

April, A Month of Contrasts

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.
Revelation 21:4

Mourning

Inevitably, when the calendar turns to April, an undercurrent of melancholy seeps into my soul, regardless of what’s going on in my life. The seeds of sorrow were planted in the past and ripen into tears this time of year. I’ve lost several dear relatives in the month of April, including a great-aunt, an uncle, and a sister-in-law.

The most life-changing April losses were the deaths of my husband and mother. On April 19, 1997, Ray, barely 39 years old, left for work on a beautiful spring day, had a fatal heart attack, and never returned home, leaving me to raise our two young daughters on my own. On April 20, 2021, my 89-year-old mother fell, broke her hip, and passed into Glory ten days later after suffering unimaginable pain and frequent delirium.

The day Mom broke her hip was my dad’s 90th birthday. He joined her in the presence of Jesus in the wee hours of July 12, 2023, but no longer being able to celebrate his April birthday or watch the last round of the Masters golf tournament with him, as was our tradition, adds to the angst of this month.  

Never Forsaken

Those direct, just-the-facts descriptions of the bereavements belie the emotional punch each one packs. Every year, I’m intentional in remembering my last days with Ray and my first days without him. The numbness, inability to think clearly, and wondering how I’d ever make it without him colored my days. Now, in looking back, I see that God never left me then or in all the years since (Psalm 68:5).

I don’t spend as much time contemplating Mom’s final days. Being in so much pain was agonizing for her. Seeing her in so much pain was heartbreaking for those of us who kept vigil by her bedside. But I know we weren’t the only ones keeping watch over Mom. Her suffering Savior had endured even more, understood the pain, and never forsook her (Isaiah 53:4; Deuteronomy 31:6).

Joy

Despite the melancholy memories associated with the fourth month, April is also full of hope and joy. Here in Georgia, spring has arrived. The plants have woken up from their winter slumber. Trees are bedecked in fresh leaves, azaleas and dogwoods are blooming, and more flowers are popping up daily. It’s as if all creation is praising the Creator and mirroring the Resurrection story (Psalm 96:11-12).

April is also the month we usually celebrate Easter. Some years, my intentional reminiscences of Ray’s last days and Jesus’ final week overlap. Such is the case this year. As I remember my closing days with Ray, I will be thinking about all Jesus endured for us. A week that began with the Triumphal Entry quickly degenerated into betrayal, unjust trials, condemnation, beatings, mocking, and, ultimately, a gruesome death. The 28th anniversary of Ray’s Homegoing falls on the day before Easter, the glorious day that Jesus rose from the grave and changed everything forever (Matthew 28:6).

This week, as I engage in my annual tradition of remembering departed loved ones, I will rejoice in knowing that death doesn’t get the final say. The separation from God and beloved family members and friends is only temporary because Jesus paid the penalty we deserved so that we might spend eternity with Him.

So, I will shed some tears this week. Some will be borne of sorrow, some of wonder at God’s great love in sending His Son to die for us (John 3:16). I will revel in the beauty all around me, knowing it is but a glimpse of the beauty that awaits. And I will endeavor to add my hallelujahs to the chorus of praise because He is Risen! He is Risen indeed, and we are risen with Him! (Ephesians 2:6)

Encouragement for Weary Souls

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

Dear Readers,

I have several friends who are navigating serious health issues with loved ones. Their journeys remind me of the challenging paths I walked with Mom and Dad in the final months of their lives. Yet the memories are also laced with Scripture passages that sustained me during those trying times. As I’ve shared them with my friends, I’ve recalled how powerful the promises of God are. I expect some, maybe many, of you are on an arduous journey of your own, so I decided to fashion this week’s post from the passages I not only clung to then but also return to when other difficult situations arise. It is my prayer that one or more of them will provide the hope you need in the days ahead. 

New Mercies

But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:21-23

I was often mentally, physically, and emotionally spent by the time nightfall arrived each day, but every morning, I would imagine the Lord had refilled my bucket overnight so that it was overflowing with His mercies for that day.  

Eyes Fixed

For we are powerless against this great horde that is coming against us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you (2 Chronicles 20:12b).

There were so many decisions I needed to make regarding Mom and Dad’s care, some of them downright gut-wrenching. I thought of the decisions being the great horde coming against me, and I prayed Jehoshaphat’s prayer – Lord, I don’t know what to do, but my eyes are fixed on You – repeatedly, sometimes multiple times a day, seeking wisdom from the Lord.

Light and Momentary

For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal (2 Corinthians 4:17-18).

When we’re in the midst of trying circumstances, the affliction doesn’t feel light or momentary, but for those who love the Lord, we know He’s working all things together for our good and is fitting us for our heavenly Home (Romans 8:28-30).

Weary

And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up (Galatians 6:9).

Sometimes the journey feels so long. You don’t know if you can keep going, at least not in the right spirit, without becoming frustrated or resentful. I asked people to pray that I wouldn’t become weary in doing good so I could honor my parents and God, who entrusted their care to me. I longed to reap the harvest of helping them finish their earthly lives with dignity.

Gentle Savior

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light (Matthew 11:28-30).

We are blessed to have a gentle Savior who understands our frailties and offers rest for our souls. He has promised never to leave or forsake us (Matthew 28:20b).

Comfort Others

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).

As citizens of Heaven sojourning in a world marred by sin, there will be instances when we or our loved ones don’t get the diagnosis or outcome we hope for. At such times, we can rest in the assurance that Jesus is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). He comforts us so that we may comfort others and point them to the hope we’ve found in His steadfast love and faithfulness.

Ultimate Hope

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” And he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. (Revelation 21:1-6a).

Whenever I read this passage, I want to shout, “Hallelujah! I can’t wait!” No more tears or death or mourning or crying or pain – that’s what God’s beloved children have to look forward to because He will indeed make all things new!

It will be four years next month since the Lord called Mom Home and two years in July since Dad joined her. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss them, but I wouldn’t wish them back from Paradise. Instead, I look forward to spending eternity with them in the presence of Jesus. Until then, I will cling to God’s promises and endeavor to keep my eyes fixed on Him. I pray you will do the same. May you find great hope in these and other passages.

Don’t Cry! (Reprise)

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Jesus wept.
John 11:35

Introduction

A recent conversation with friends began with one of them apologizing for the tears that accompanied her reply to our question, “How are you?” “Not great,” followed by,  “Oh, I’m sorry, I cry too easily!”

My other friend and I assured her there was no need for an apology. After all, we cry easily, too! Thinking back on our exchange reminded me of this blog post I wrote several years ago. I decided it was time to dust it off, make a few edits, and rerun it.

Tears for All Occasions

I suppose I should begin with a confession: I’m an equal-opportunity crier. My eyes are just as likely to well up in moments of joy as in sorrow – while reading sweet sentiments in Hallmark cards, watching heartbreaking news stories, attending weddings or funerals, even when leading Bible study, as the magnitude of God’s grace and mercy floods over me. Yes, from a barely-there trickle to gut-wrenching sobs, I’ve shed my share of tears and expect to shed plenty more.

A quick Google search reveals three different types of tears. Basal tears keep our eyes lubricated, while reflex tears pop up in response to irritants like slicing onions or having a pesky gnat flit into your eye. And then there are psychic tears associated with our emotions, distinct from the other two in that they contain stress hormones.[1] No wonder we often feel better after shedding them. They’re like an overflow valve for the soul.

Biblical Weeping

The Bible has much to say about tears and the circumstances surrounding them. Consider, for example:

  • Loss of a loved one by separation or death
    • David grieved the loss of his closer-than-a-brother friend, Jonathan, first from necessary distancing and then by death (1 Samuel 20:41; 2 Samuel 1:12).
    • Mary and Martha mourned Lazarus’ death. Seeing their distress, Jesus wept too, even though He knew his Father would hear His prayer to raise him. Jesus had compassion for the sisters in their time of loss, and He has compassion for us as well (John 11:31-35).
    • Jesus’ followers were bereft and befuddled after His death despite the many times He’d told them what was to come (Luke 18:31-34; 36:13-49).
  • Disappointments of various sorts
    • Esau wept over losing his birthright when he realized his brother had tricked their father (Genesis 27:30-38).
    • Hannah’s unfulfilled desire for a child, exacerbated by her rival’s provocation and her husband’s lack of understanding, led to her fervent, tear-stained prayer for relief (1 Samuel 1:1-10).
  • Sorrow for sin
    • Three of the four Gospels recount Peter’s tear-punctuated dismay when Jesus’ statement that he’d betray Him came to pass (Matthew 26:75; Mark 14:72; Luke 22:62).
    • James says we should be wretched, mourn, and weep over our transgressions, humbly drawing near to God for forgiveness and restoration (James 4:8-10).
  • Worship and Gratitude
    • The penitent woman who wet Jesus’ feet with her tears, wiped them with her hair, and anointed them with ointment was motivated by her love for her Savior (Luke 7:36-38).
  • Joyous reunion
    • Though bitterness marked their estrangement and Jacob feared the worst from Esau, the brothers’ reunion was accompanied by joyful tears (Genesis 33:4).
    •  I’m taking some liberty here because none of the translations I consulted mention crying, but I’ve got to believe the prodigal son’s compassionate father had tears of elation streaming down his face as he ran to greet his returning son (Luke 15:20).

To Grieve or Not to Grieve?

Even though these passages and others make it clear psychic tears are part of our God-given emotions, we’re quick to admonish, “Don’t cry!” Could it be that others’ tears make us uncomfortable or tearful ourselves? Or worse, might we believe God’s children aren’t supposed to cry because we know the end of the story?

I distinctly remember a visit from the mother of one of my daughter’s friends, though it occurred 27 years ago. She, too, was widowed at a young age, losing her husband a few months after I lost mine. Being a wee bit further along the path of single parenting, I hoped to console her, but when she arrived, she was surprisingly joyful and radiant. I’ll never forget her statement, “The elders and my church family have been praying I won’t grieve, and it’s working!”

Not grieve the loss of your life partner and father of your children? I was speechless. Granted, we don’t grieve as those who have no hope, but we do grieve.

Man of Sorrows

The women who witnessed Jesus’ crucifixion no doubt wailed at the sight of their beloved Teacher and Friend, bloodied and beaten, being nailed to a Roman cross – the innocent One put to death for the sins of others. Isaiah 53 is one of my most cherished passages, but also one which I can rarely get through without tears. Man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. Despised. Rejected. Wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities. My transgressions. My iniquities.

A conversation with my pastor regarding our propensity to rush to the good news of Christ’s victory over death without allowing ourselves or others to grieve reminded me of my daughter Jessie’s comment as we stood by Mom’s grave following her funeral three years ago. After watching Mom endure horrible pain the last ten days of her life, I said I was thankful she wasn’t suffering anymore. Jessie replied, “That’s true, but don’t miss out on the mourning, Mom.”

Don’t miss out on the mourning.

If we ever doubt we have permission to grieve, we have only to look to Jesus. He experienced what it’s like to walk through this sin-scarred world. Even though He knew He would defeat death and not one of those entrusted to Him would be lost, Jesus wept because death was never part of God’s good plan. It stings. It always will this side of heaven.

As we go through difficulties in this life, we know the One who keeps track of every tear (Psalm 56:8) is seated at the right hand of God, interceding for us. Nothing can separate us from His love (Romans 8:31-39). He has promised to return, to usher in a new heaven and a new earth, to wipe every tear from our eyes (Revelation 21:1-4). Until then, let us rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep, unafraid of our tears.

O Lord, thank You for hearing our cries for help. Though weeping may last through the night, joy comes with the morning (Psalm 30). You have shown great mercy in sending Jesus to die for our sins and will turn our mourning into gladness. For we know this momentary affliction is preparing an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison (2 Corinthians 4:17). 

Note: A blend of joy that my granddaughter Lyla Ray arrived safely and sorrow that her Grandpa (Ray) Kuipers wasn’t with us to greet his namesake produced the barely visible tear on my cheek in the accompanying photo.

[1] “What are the three different types of tears found in our eyes?”, http://www.sharecare.com

Another April

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.
Revelation 21:4

The end of March inevitably brings with it a sense of melancholy. The foreboding creeps up on me, gradually increasing, until I realize, “Oh, it’s almost April again.”

Mom and I used to dread the arrival of the last week of October each year since her parents and my paternal grandfather passed away on the 25th, 27th, and 30th of different years, but April long ago superseded October when it comes to personal losses. 

My beloved husband, Ray, went Home on April 19, 1997, two months after his 39th birthday, stricken by a fatal heart attack. His passing forever severed my life into before-and-after pieces.

Ten years ago, a dear sister-in-law fell while helping Ray’s brother reroof a building on their farm. Marcia succumbed to her injuries on April 12, 2014.

Three years ago, my dear little mom fell and broke her hip on April 20th, my dad’s 90th birthday. Though she survived the surgery to repair her hip, her body and mind were too fragile to recover, and she entered the presence of Jesus on April 30, 2021.

And now here we are, April 2024, the first April of my life that I won’t be able to celebrate Dad’s birthday with him. Though he joined Mom in Glory last July, his birthday will be forever linked to the final days of Mom and Ray’s lives.

That listing may feel like cold, just-the-facts reporting, but I can assure you each one of those losses packs a powerful gut punch regardless of how long my loved ones have been gone. Having missed Ray for 27 years, I know the longing to see Mom, Dad, and others who have gone Home won’t fade away either.

As hard as the losses have been and as deep as the lingering grief is, I know there’s a day coming when I will see my loved ones again. I can be confident because of Jesus’ death and resurrection. And when the day of His promised return arrives, there will be no more death or tears or pain or suffering! Whenever I think about it or read the passage in Revelation 21, I want to shout, “Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! Come, Lord Jesus!!”

Yet, I can’t gloss over the pain of loss because to do so would be to minimize the penalty of sin as well as the ultimate sacrifice it cost Jesus to save us (Genesis 2:16-17; Isaiah 53:5-6; Romans 3:23). Death hurts because it was never part of God’s good plan. Watching our loved ones’ health decline hurts because we weren’t supposed to get old and sick. Missing them hurts because we were never supposed to be separated – from them or God.

We’re in good company when we lament the passing of our loved ones. Even though Jesus knew He would raise His friend, Lazarus, He had great compassion toward his sisters and wept outside his tomb (John 11:32-35).

However, we can grieve with hope because death doesn’t get the final say (John 11:25-26; 1 Corinthians 15).

A friend was visiting the other day and commented on how beautiful my flowers are. I thanked her and explained that April is a bittersweet month for me. I told her that although I revel in the beauty of springtime, I also associate the season with significant losses. Knowing that I love to garden and surveying the vast array of plants on my little property, she said, “That’s why God gave you all these pretty flowers!”

A small sample of the flowers adorning my springtime garden.

Her statement affirmed what I’ve often thought, and I replied, “I agree! Everywhere I look, creation is shouting ‘resurrection!’ From the colorful flowers to bright green leaves to baby birds, there’s new life everywhere!”

Dear readers, I expect each one of you has experienced significant loss in your life. Jesus told us that we would have tribulations in this world, but He went on to say, “Take heart, for I have overcome the world!” (John 16:33) We can take comfort in His triumph over tribulations as well as in knowing He’s overcome death, the final enemy. Jesus promised to return and make all things new (Revelation 21:1-5). While we await that glorious day, may we see evidence of His love and care all around us, interwoven with shimmering threads of resurrection realities that provide solace for our hurting hearts.

Legacy, Lament, and Longevity

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?”
1 Corinthians 15:54-55

There they were, sitting side by side on a sofa at a funeral home – Mom, Dad, and my Aunt Margie, Dad’s only remaining sibling. The occasion? The service for another of his sisters. A solemn thought pervaded my soul later that evening when I gazed at the photo capturing the moment. Mom was one of eight siblings, and Dad was one of ten. Eighteen siblings had been reduced to three, and, given their ages and the relentless march of time, I knew they, too, were drawing near to the end even if the Lord blessed them with several more years.

That was January 2020. Mom passed in April 2021, Dad in July 2023, and Aunt Margie joined the family circle on high ten days ago. Oh, how it hurts to write those words and contemplate the void left in our family. A whole generation is no longer with us.

But what a generation it was! Dad’s family line-up began with two older brothers, followed by four older sisters. Dad came next, the eldest of the four younger boys. The siblings who preceded Dad served in WW II. Uncle Harry was in the army and helped liberate one of the concentration camps. Uncle Fred flew numerous bombing missions. Meanwhile, the sisters worked for the Justice Department in Washington, DC. The younger brothers served our country in later conflicts and times of peace.

With birth dates ranging from 1916 to 1937, Dad and his siblings lived through the hardships of The Great Depression. Their experiences during that tough time and humble beginnings in rural North Carolina undoubtedly shaped their values. During his eulogy for Dad, one of my cousins described him and his siblings with three Ds: Duty to country, devotion to family, and dedication to their chosen professions.

Aunt Margie

I could say so much more about my aunts and uncles, but I want to turn my attention to Aunt Margie.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve known Aunt Margie was a widow who raised four children on her own. My admiration of her as a single mother grew exponentially when I, too, was widowed at a young age and started raising my two elementary-aged daughters alone. Knowing she’d persevered for years and seeing how my cousins turned out inspired me to keep going. It wasn’t until I read Aunt Margie’s obituary that I realized she began her solo journey at an even younger age than I did – 33 years vs 38.

But that wasn’t the only area where Aunt Margie’s determination encouraged me. Like me, she loved to work in her yard and continued to do so well into her 80s.

Mom and Dad kept in touch with Aunt Margie and would fill me in on their conversations, including reports of “Margie was out working in her yard again!” which they inevitably conveyed in concerned tones. My enthusiastic reply? “Good for her! I hope I’m able to do the same!”

I felt a similar sense of, “You go, girl!” when I read this section from Aunt Margie’s obituary:

She didn’t care for Pilates or yoga, and she absolutely despised having to do physical therapy after a fall. She preferred to get her exercise by planting, weeding, and tending her flowers and vegetable garden, and insisted on mowing her yard with a push mower. Her approach to physical fitness served her well, as evidenced by her longevity.

Grandmama

Speaking of longevity, though Dad was the only one of the male siblings to make it into their 90s, all four of his sisters did. Two passed away within days of their 94th birthdays, while the other two made it to 95. And Grandmama, who bore those ten children, surpassed them all. She lived 95 years and 10 months, six months longer than Aunt Margie.

Though I have fond memories of visiting Grandmama when I was a child, I treasure the times I visited her as an adult, especially when it was just the two of us. She’s been gone 30 years, but even now, as I type, I can envision her serene countenance and see the Bible she kept on the table next to her favorite chair. I recall the softness of her skin as I held her hand during our quiet chats.

Another memory comes into focus, one of a visit my husband Ray and I paid her. When our visit was over, Grandmama walked us to the door. As we lingered on the porch, saying our reluctant goodbyes, she said, “Don’t wait too long to come back to see me. I’m going Home soon.”

I have no doubt that confident assurance contributed to Grandmama’s serenity. After a long and often challenging life, she knew she was nearing Home.

The Ultimate Longevity

It’s been heartbreaking to lose so many loved ones over the years. But death doesn’t get the final say. Regardless of how many years God grants us in this life, they’re a mere drop in the vast ocean of eternal longevity. As I grieve the loss of my last aunt, I’m once again turning to the promise of a grand reunion to assuage my sorrow. If it weren’t for that, our lament would know no solace, but because of it, we can rejoice in knowing that for those who die in Christ, death isn’t the end. It is a most glorious beginning.

Dear Lord, last Sunday, we celebrated Your resurrection. Thank You for conquering death so that we, too, will rise again when You return with glorified bodies like Yours that will never get sick or grow old or die! What a joy to know that we’ll be reunited with our loved ones and live in Your presence forever!

The Sad Relief

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.
Deuteronomy 31:8

Holiday Blues

For most of my life, I looked forward to the final six weeks of the year, full of holiday cheer, beginning with Mom’s November birthday, followed by Thanksgiving, my mid-December birthday, Christmas, and New Year’s, with long-standing traditions associated with each. Granddaughter Lyla arrived the day after my birthday in 2013, multiplying the joy by becoming my birthday buddy.

But several years ago, my anticipation of the end-of-the-year celebrations began to wane as Mom’s health declined, and she couldn’t fully enjoy the season as she had in the past. Then 2020 rolled around, and, like many other families, COVID-19 derailed our Christmas traditions.

Little did we know it would be our last Christmas with Mom.

December 2021 found me going through the motions. Not only was it my first Christmas without my beloved mother, but my strong father had suffered a stroke six months after her passing. Though the physical effects were minor, the stroke impacted Dad’s cognitive abilities, leaving him incapable of handling his finances or medications, making it impossible to live on his own. Though we found a live-in caregiver for him, Dad grew tired of having someone in his space all the time. Thus, December found us looking at assisted living options, planning to move him in January.

I was equally despondent as the holidays approached in 2022. If it had been possible to fast forward to mid-January 2023, I would have done so. Dad contracted Covid at the end of October. His health was so fragile I thought it likely I would be planning a funeral before the end of the year. But he rallied and was able to celebrate Christmas, New Year’s, and his 92nd birthday before suffering another stroke in May of 2023 and gradually declining until passing away peacefully on July 12.

Grieving with Hope

After four years, holiday joy finally returned to my heart last December. That may sound strange considering it was my first without either of my parents. I’ve pondered that myself and have frequently returned to a phrase one of my friends used when she replied to my text informing her of Dad’s passing:  “I’m so sorry. Now begins the sad relief.”

The sad relief – an apt description of the blend of sorrow and joy known to Christians because we’re able to grieve with hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18). Though I miss Mom and Dad, there’s great comfort in knowing they’re together in the presence of Jesus, far beyond the reach of earthly pain and distress.

After three years of intense caregiving, first for Mom and then Dad, another type of relief joined that of knowing they’re better than they’ve ever been – the relief from stress related to not knowing what any given day would bring, having to make so many difficult decisions, and, as an only child, feeling the heavy weight of responsibility. Only now, after several months of no longer experiencing the daily tension, do  I realize the load I carried, one always tinged with guilt and doubt. Was I making the right decisions? Should I be doing more? Ultimately, I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I was helpless to stop the relentless march of aging or prevent the inevitable conclusion.

Faithful God

But looking back, I also have a much clearer view of how God went before us every step of the way.

Mom’s agony was intense but relatively brief. God directed and redirected throughout the ten-day interval between the moment she fell and broke her hip and the one in which she drew her final breath. We intended to bring her home and endeavored to do so, but the Lord had plans to call her Home.

Though the stroke Dad experienced six months after Mom died wasn’t as catastrophic as her broken hip, it initiated a decline that lasted 18 months before he joined her in Glory. When he came home from the hospital, we secured a male, live-in Christian caregiver for him. I’ve got to believe that’s a rare combination of traits! When Dad grew tired of that arrangement, we found a cozy apartment in a lovely assisted living community two miles from my daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren.

Then came the day when Dad’s primary care physician recommended we transition to palliative care. The assumption underlying her suggestion wasn’t lost on me. We were running out of options to make Dad “well.” It was time to focus on making him comfortable instead. And, when we needed to take the next step and enlist hospice care, who would turn out to be his primary nurses but two women who’d overseen his care after his seizure some months before. In the interim, they’d started working for the hospice provider. Coincidence? I think not!

There are other examples of God’s provision and presence during Dad’s final months, but I’ll let these suffice.

Never Alone

There were times when I felt so alone in my seat on the emotional roller coaster associated with Dad’s ever-changing status, from declines to rallies and back again. Yet I was never alone. The One who promised never to leave or forsake me was there for every up and down, every daunting diagnosis and surprising recovery, not only knowing but also ordaining the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:9-10).

The sadness of no longer having Mom and Dad to share things with, celebrate with, or reminisce with will stay with me for the rest of my life. But there’s the joy of cherishing memories of times past, carrying on favorite family traditions with my grandchildren, and mentioning Mama and Papop often so the youngest generation doesn’t forget their great-grandparents.

Ultimately, the greatest joy comes from the realization that God accomplished what I could not – relieve their pain and suffering – and He did it for eternity.

Epilog

Several days ago, I opened my journaling Bible to a section of Psalms I hadn’t read for a while, at least not in that particular Bible. I did a double-take when I saw what I’d written next to Psalm 40:17 two days before Mom broke her hip: “My prayer for Mom tonight, Lord. Please don’t delay in helping her or delivering her from the pain she’s been experiencing.” At the very moment I was writing that prayer, He had already determined how He would answer. Twelve days later, the Lord delivered Mom entirely and eternally from her pain.

Watching Mom and Dad decline gave me a glimpse of what my future might look like as I continue my journey Home. It also provided ample evidence of God’s faithfulness. It saddens me to think of possibly losing the capability to care for myself, yet there is relief in knowing God’s grace will be sufficient for my caregivers and me, just as it was for Mom and Dad and theirs – all the way to the end (2 Corinthians 12:9; Hebrews 10:23).  

Precious Moments

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Teach us to number our days and recognize how few they are; help us to spend them as we should.
Psalm 90:12 TLB

I was ambushed in a parking lot recently. Don’t worry, it wasn’t a carjacking! My granddaughters and I had almost reached our destination, the dance studio where they take classes each week. As I rounded the last corner, I saw three men gathered around an eye-popping teal-blue Maserati. I had no chance of fending off the tear-producing reaction that overtook me. I recognized a scene Dad had experienced countless times as admiring people approached him requesting an up-close look at his GT-R. The connection wasn’t the problem. The fact I couldn’t tell him about it was.

One of my friends has described me as a grief veteran. Having been widowed since age 38, I know you never stop missing departed loved ones. I also know it’s the little things that can sneak up on you. Birthdays, anniversaries, and the like – you know they’re coming and can prepare for the attendant feelings. My husband Ray managed the indoor gardening department at a local Home Depot. There are still times, over 26 years since his passing, that a wave of emotions will sweep over me when I’m strolling the aisles and see all the associates in their orange aprons.

Having grown accustomed to such occurrences,  I acknowledged in Mom’s eulogy two years ago that my unique connections with her would most likely get to me. Haircut days are the hardest. I always scheduled our appointments back-to-back, and then we’d go to Starbucks to chat while we enjoyed our favorite beverages. Now, when I drive to the salon, the empty passenger seat mocks me. I went to Starbucks after my first appointment without Mom, but I haven’t since – no need to have another vacant seat glaring at me.

I knew it would be the same when Dad passed. We always talked about sports, mostly golf and college football, with a bit of baseball thrown in. Sunday afternoons would find me pulling up the leaderboard for the week’s golf tournament and, during the season, the latest football rankings. I still check the rankings, but oh, how I miss having Dad to mull them over with.

And then there are the stealth attacks, like seeing the guys talking to the owner of the Maserati. I’ll be going along fine when Bam! The enormity of the loss hits all over again, fueled by the knowledge that I can no longer share the experience with Dad. A similar situation arose last week when I finished reading a novel by John Grisham, one of Dad’s favorite authors. I’d barely closed the book when tears started to flow. I’ll admit the satisfying ending would have provoked tears in all-occasion crier me, but others streamed down my cheeks because I wanted to discuss the details with Dad, confident he would have remembered the storyline even though he read the book several years ago.

But there would be no such discussion.

I suppose we could look at these emotional ambushes in a negative light, but I’ve come to appreciate them as enduring ties to my loved ones, each a distinct link in a tender fetter that binds us together. Sure, our lives occasionally contain highly anticipated events, dream vacations, and the like, but the little moments, woven together over time, make up the essence of our lives. Remembering that encourages and comforts me since simple moments are more attainable than expensive events, at least for most of us.

The moments – and memories – become priceless when we share them with those we love.

One recent afternoon, grandson Joshua and I worked together to divide and repot some of Mom’s aloe vera plants. Seeing we had two dozen baby plants, I commented, “If these little guys make it, we’ll have plenty to share!”

Joshua added, “We can give them to people who loved Mama and love succulents.” Then, after the briefest of pauses, he exclaimed, “Wait! Everyone loved Mama, so we’ll just figure out who loves succulents.”

His statement began a pleasant reminiscence between us as we talked about Mom’s beautiful spirit and her kindness and love toward everyone she knew. What a blessing that Joshua got to experience her love. Our conversation reminded me of my tender feelings toward my dear PaPa, my maternal grandfather, whose love I still feel even though he’s been gone nearly 60 years. [1]

I pray I’m forging similar links with my grandchildren – playing in the dirt (i.e., gardening), drinking tea, taking leisurely strolls through their neighborhood – and making sure they know how much God and I love them!

Dear reader, I don’t know who you may be missing today, but I pray you’ll find comfort in remembering sweet connections that bind you and your loved ones together while we await a joyful reunion when Jesus calls us Home (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18).

In closing, I offer one of my favorite Dietrich Bonhoeffer quotes concerning grief:

There is nothing that can replace the absence of someone dear to us, and one should not even attempt to do so. One must simply hold out and endure it. At first that sounds very hard, but at the same time it is also a great comfort. For to the extent the emptiness truly remains unfilled one remains connected to the other person through it. It is wrong to say that God fills the emptiness. God in no way fills it but much more leaves it precisely unfilled and thus helps us preserve—even in pain—the authentic relationship. Furthermore, the more beautiful and full the remembrances, the more difficult the separation. But gratitude transforms the torment of memory into silent joy. One bears what was lovely in the past not as a thorn but as a precious gift deep within, a hidden treasure of which one can always be certain. (Emphasis added.)[2]

[1] You may enjoy reading about PaPa in “Eating Apples – encore,” Archives, July 2022.

[2] Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, vol. 8, Letters and Papers from Prison (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), letter no. 89, page 238.