For several days now, I have read and reread Psalm 40, verses 1 and 2.
This grief is like a deep dark hole where I see no light, yet I search for the light of the end, the end of this tunnel of dying and death. The search seems futile as no one can answer how long this darkness will last, and I am stranded in the unknowing, uncertainty and unpredictability. (The inability to make any plans is absolutely the most difficult to deal with.)
Yet, there is a gentle hand. So, I pray. Hold me, Daddy until I am steady enough to continue this journey. You alone are my light. Set me down on your warm rock. Yes, Jesus, my rock, the only solid, steady and sure thing in this world.
Whenever I need comfort, I go to the Rock! I nestle in and ask Him to hold me until I feel His strength enable me to proceed, to face the path, the day again.
This morning, I got a glimpse of this passage from the one who is passing, OK dying!
I waited a long time and He finally knelt down to hear me. He listened to my weak and whispered cry. He reached down and drew me from the deep dark hole where I was stranded, mired in the muck and clay. With a gentle hand, He pulled me out to set me safely on a warm rock again; He held me until I was steady enough to continue the journey again." (From The Voice)
Mother's journey is a slow process. Her voice is weak and whispered. It would seem logical that she might feel stranded between heaven and earth, mired down in the slow process of waiting for her organs to shut down.
So I pray, "Lord of Mercy, with your gentle hand, reach down and pull mother to the safety of Jesus's arms. Hold her until she is strengthened and enabled to finish this journey. Amen!"