Glimpse of Heaven

Do you ever speculate what it would be like to experience heaven?

A special lady offered me an unexpected peek.

Let me unpack the hospital encounter with a patient, Ms. Marjorie. I entered her room and introduced myself as Chaplain Charleen. Ms. Marjorie’s pure white hair surrounded her her face and contrasted with her sapphire eyes, with character lines creasing her pale complexion of this ninety-one-year-old. She sat propped up with pillows in a multi-colored robe, appearing to give her warmth and dignity. Her frame was slender. 

White hair surrounded her face

She greeted me with alertness, a gleam in her eyes and an engaging manner, which was a welcome surprise. Ms. Marjorie reminded me of a gracious and genteel lady who hailed from south Texas. Her nightstand held indicators of visitors with the sweet fragrance of flowers, signaled that loved ones cared for her. 

“How nice to see you, chaplain,”

Walking closer to her bed, though I maintained a respectful distance, I said, “I came to visit with you and to check on how you are doing, Ms. Marjorie.”

“I am doing well and gaining strength,” she announced with confidence.

Ms. Marjorie did not show preoccupation with her health or anxiety about her medical condition. For a person in her 90s, she displayed lucidity and an upbeat mood with no detectable signs of dementia or depression to be apparent.

For ninety-one-year old her mood was positive

 Hospital conversations start with disclosing illnesses or talking about what medical tests needed. I planned to ask questions, but before I could, unanticipated words came out of her mouth.            Smiling, “I love the Lord so much!” A peace radiated in her expression and joy enthused from her voice.

“Wow!” I replied, and I thought to myself, I don’t think I ever witnessed a comment like that. She entrusted me with a treasure to hold. I paused, somewhat speechless, desiring more explanation. “Tell me more.”

I love the Lord so much!

“My parents took me to church and were people who had faith. My grandparents were people of firm belief, too.” While Ms. Marjorie talked, she used her aged fingers to swipe through her snowy-white mane. She divulged facts about her family and her rich Christian heritage, going back several generations. As she described important parts of her past, I realized she was reviewing her life-a life appraisal. Her religious ancestry appeared significant to share above other stories in her history. However, I knew as individuals mature into their late 80s and 90s, they sieve out temporal values to esteem the values they carry closest to their hearts. Usually, the exchanges do not surround the topics of money earned, property gained, success or careers, but of relationships. Family and leaving a legacy dominate their visits.

Sieve out temporal values

On a personal note, I enjoy listening to patients up in years. I welcome discovering their wisdom and insight gained throughout their lives. This wisdom and insight are like precious jewels. Octogenarians and nonagenarians view life through a different lens than younger individuals. I describe their viewpoint as if they are staring through extraordinary night vision glasses, seeing what others do not see. For them, the end of the race is approaching, and true intangible wealth matters. For Ms. Marjorie, her words spoke of the importance of her faith.

Her words spoke of the importance of her faith.

 “Tell me a little about your family,” wanting to know about her support.

“I am from Houston, but moved here to live with my son. . .”

“Oh.”

 With sadness in her voice, she said, “My son he died a few years ago.” 

            “Oh, no. I am so sorry,” I said, sensing a lump in my throat and standing frozen. The death of a child is one of the roughest events in life and can contribute to deep depression. I asked her questions to explore how she processed his death. She calmly related the circumstances of how he died. Her conversation revealed healthy grief, acceptance and peace.

“I live with my daughter-in-law now. She takes excellent care of me.”

“Oh, that’s good. I am glad you have her in your life.” I sighed with relief.

“She brought this robe yesterday.” Ms. Marjorie pats the bright garment.

Next, she opens her hands to form a cup. “I wish people would turn to the Lord. All they have to do is open up their hands and receive him.” She bemoaned many did not open their hands to receive the Lord. Receiving the Lord seemed easy to her and paramount to her.

She opened her hands for form a cup.

I nodded to show I understood her.

In her conversation, she did not lament her hospital stay or her advanced age, not wanting to talk about her illness. Ms. Marjorie shared her joy. Her faith transcended losing her son, and her faith transcended her medical condition. This remarkable ninety-one-year-old possessed a perspective of eclipsing circumstances. Could this be because of her belief? Could this be grace? I marveled.

I asked if she wanted prayer while gently reaching for her gnarled, arthritic hands and bending over in order for her to hear me. I prayed for health, peace and strength, all the general prayers I normally pray. However, my words slowed as something came over me-a reverential awe percolating up, recognizing God’s closeness with her and entering a holy place of God’s love for her. God’s presence washed through me in a wave and warmed my heart, unmistakably I witnessed the invisible. God’s aura surrounded her.

Could this be grace?

My words became more deliberate, my eyes moistened. What a precious moment for me to witness-a prayer between her and God. 
Is this the end of life for Ms. Marjorie? Did she have a deep connection with God? I questioned. Words could not adequately describe the awe and wonder.

 Working as a chaplain, I stood at many bedsides in hospice and in the Intensive Care Units but never experienced the aura to this scope. Even as I write this, my eyes are misty.

My eyes misted-unexpected glimpse.

“God has prepared things for those who love him that no eye has seen, or ear has heard, or that haven’t crossed the mind of any human being” (1 Corinthians 2:9).

I felt as if I were in the room with you. 

from Chrissie Smith

I am in tears.  This is so very, very beautiful…every word you said. Thank you so very much for all that you wrote and observed.  Totally beautiful.  Of course, I am thinking of the day my dear Mother died. I thanked her for all that she had done for me all my life and how good she was and how she always was doing for others.  Immediately after the very last word that I said, her breathing wasn’t as labored as it had been but a soft easy breathing.  The easy breathing started immediately after I stopped talking.  She breathed 3 easy breaths and then no more.  I knew then that she had heard me and that she felt that it was okay to go on to God then.  It was the most special time I have ever had.   I did feel the angels were waiting to help her.

from Judy Strickland