Monthly Archives: September 2008

resisting guilt

Posted on September 25, 2008 by wally metts| 3 Comments

I will pay my vows unto the LORD now in the presence of all his people. Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints. Psalm 116:14-15

Letting someone die comfortably seems like a reasonable choice.

It makes sense to stop spending money on treatments that leave a loved one weaker, especially when the evidence says the end is near. Her advance directive says no heroic measures are to be taken. Chemo and dialysis seem heroic at this point. It’s all very rationale.

It’s also very emotional. This is not an abstract concept. This is my mom.

My sister and I have both struggled with this. If we aren’t giving her medicines that keep her alive, are we killing her? Can we do more? Should we?

We believe God is the keeper of our days. We also believe we are our mother’s keeper. This is the tension that envelops us.

The struggle is complicated by exhaustion. We tell her it’s ok to go and sometimes wish she would hurry. We wonder how our choices affect the estate. We feel guilty for thinking about it. We are grateful for each new day. We wish the whole thing was over.

There is no poetry in this. There is no drama, only conflict without resolution and weariness without rest.

How much pain reliever should we give her? Is that so she can rest, or so that we can? How can we take care of her if we don’t take care of ourselves?

As Christians, we know death is not to be feared. But should it be resisted? How long and at what cost?

Although the Psalmist says “precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints,” we have clung to life so long. We have treasured it and honored it. In the face of its demise, we are without defense. We have no answers. Only a question: what does grace and courage look like?

I know that mom is comfortable and loved. I know she would rather be in my living room than in a hospital bed. I know my wife and I and my sister and her family have cared for her for years, a sacrifice of service and a labor of love. I know I am a good son, and a faithful one.

I just don’t know what to do and when to stop. Except this:

What shall I render unto the LORD for all his benefits toward me?
I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the LORD.
I will pay my vows unto the LORD now in the presence of all his people.
Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.
LORD, truly I am thy servant: I am thy servant
and the son of thine handmaid: thou hast loosed my bonds.
I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving,
and will call upon the name of the LORD.

Psalm 116, KJV

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Posted in faith, family, grief

refreshing breeze

Posted on September 22, 2008 by wally metts| 1 Comment

Last week we sat on the front porch and watched torrential rain, the remnants of Hurricane Ike which blew through Houston and practically leveled Galveston.

It was peaceful as we sat on the porch enjoying the breeze, although the sky was dark. In two days we had 7 inches of rain, flooding roads and rivers. The wind was gusting up to 30 mph and people across the Midwest were out of power.

Here in southern Michigan we are a long way from Texas, but it also felt like we were a long way from the storm that has been blowing through our lives. Three weeks ago four doctors told us mom had three days to live.

But mom seems very alert and alive. She has been through hurricanes before. She had two feet of water in her home when Donna raked southwest Florida in 1960. And the storms mom has weathered are both physical and emotional.

She was never one to run from a hurricane. I remember as a kid going to the beach just to watch a storm roll in. I remember the hurricane parties— the old timers and the natives riding it out, laughing and gathering around flickering kerosene lanterns as the power went out.

And I remember going out after the storm to pick up the coconuts and mangos that had blown from people’s yards onto the street. It turns out that a pie made of green mangos tastes just like a peach one.

But there was one thing everyone stressed at a hurricane party. Don’t go outside just because the wind died down. The eye of the storm brings a deceptive calm, but when it passes the wind comes back stronger, and a wall of water washes in from the sea.

This feels like a hurricane party, with mom joking around, giving the visiting nurse and aides a hard time, and enjoying foods long forbidden. She wants to go home but it doesn’t seem likely. Her energy rises and falls; her sleep is restless and uneven. Every day she says she wants to get up, but can’t really tolerate our raising the head of the bed.

Even in the eye of the storm the devastation is obvious. Some days she is exhausted, and struggles to find the words she wants. On those days, her emotions are clouded and clarity comes in waves.

But three weeks out, we are grateful for the good days, the ones when she chats and laughs, and God’s grace refreshes us as we watch the clouds gather.

Perhaps this is just a tropical depression. More likely it is the eye of the storm, and the hardest winds are yet to come. Grief will wash over us, but we will ride it out and pick up the mangos when it’s done.

For now there is a calm. And the party goes on.

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Posted in family, grief

amazing graces

Posted on September 1, 2008 by wally metts| 2 Comments

Photo by Margaret Metts

Photo by Margaret Metts


A hospital is no place for sick people. Or at least not for real sick one, who need a place to rest and rejoice.

And that’s what having mom at home has given her, and given us. After days in the hospital, now if we are not sitting by her side we can be sleeping in a bed, and that’s a very good thing. And there is much more for which to give thanks.

Mom has rested better, and been more alert when she was awake. And since she took care of a lot of personal business a few days ago, there is time for more laughter and more stories. It was the perfect weekend for those who are now returning home to jobs and school.

Here are some highlights:

    Extra strength. Mom has eaten a little, some mashed potatoes and some watermelon, enabling her to enjoy seven of her grandchildren and two of their spouses, plus two great-grandchildren. When she is asleep, she knows who everyone is and talks easily.

    Good friends.     Tracey, one of mom’s caregivers came up from Florida, and has been able to sit with her and remember good times and bad. Our pastor and his wife bought their horses over so she could see them in the front year, outside her window. A former student did the ironing. People loaned us two RVs.

    Music. Mom wanted us to sing Froggie-went-a-courtin and we found Dylan’s sixteen verse version on the internet. My friend Art brought his guitar and we sang the whole song, plus an assortment of hymns and praise music.

    Great food. Friends have brought food, great food, everything from fried chicken to prime rib. We have fresh produce and great tea, not to mention an espresso machine. Perfect potato salad, compliments of people who care about us and those we love.

    Hope. We are imperfect people with an imperfect past. We can rest in God’s grace and sovereignty. It’s nice to know that our righteousness is by faith alone, and not on how wise or strong or good we are, even when we are trying to be all these things.

Each of these are treasured graces, moments and gifts for which we are grateful.

As mom was falling asleep last night, Art’s daughter Asia sang “My Maker” from the musical Jane Eyre:

I see my Maker
Peace has come so fast
I will be restored to Him
Freedom comes at last

Her voice was clear and beautiful, the perfect lullaby for the perfect moment, one of many we didn’t expect and won’t forget.

Thanks be to God.

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Posted in faith, grief