“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: and the knowledge of the holy is understanding.”
Proverbs 9:10
Mom’s gnarled hands lay peacefully on the sheet. The miracle of the breath of life that filled her lungs more than 86 years before had finally left her after a hard-fought battle. I reflected on the miracles God had worked for her during the preceding 18 months.
In the spring of 2017, Mom was still at home, which is exactly where she wanted to be. I did my best to honor that, but I was cracking. Working a full-time job, commuting every weekend from where I lived, taking care of grocery shopping, doctor’s appointments, etc., I was getting physically, mentally, and spiritually weary. I was trying to control things and failing wretchedly. God was there, patiently waiting for me to let go. Finally, I knew Mom had to be placed somewhere, so I started looking. Unbeknownst to me, God was already at work.
A few weeks later, I was called from my work at a Christian book publisher to be with her and make some decisions on her behalf when she was diagnosed with deep vein thrombosis in June 2017. Within what seemed like minutes of arriving at the hospital, the nurses and social worker announced that she would have to go to rehab, and I would need to decide which facility. “Fine,” I thought. “How am I going to make that decision when I live two hours away?”
I was not totally unfamiliar with the area, but I did not have a good sense of the direction I needed to go in terms of choosing since Mom could no longer make decisions with clarity. Now, I was the parent, and I was handicapped with a lack of knowledge. God’s plan, however, was beginning to unfold. He was about to impart some wisdom.
The next day the social worker thrust three pages into my hands. She was nice but offered no direction when she instructed, “Choose your top three facilities.” At which point, she turned and left the room.
I blankly stared at the list. I saw the name of a facility where I had worked a couple of summers during college. The nursing home where Mom had worked as a nurse was also on the list. Then I saw it and remembered the seed that had been planted.
Just five days before I sat in the hospital grappling with this decision, our church had celebrated 50 years of building the current church. We had many visitors that Sabbath, most of them I knew. One lady was particularly talkative. In fact, when she and her husband were newlyweds, they lived across the road from my parents in a tiny Michigan village. She commented, “Mom and Dad are finally in the same room.”
I thought it strange because I knew a couple of her sisters and had met her parents several years earlier. In memories, people often do not grow old and decrepit—at least not in mine. She then made the comment, “They are at the Laurels.”
I did not think anything about it and just continued to visit. Now I saw the same name on the list. Was this a miracle for Mom in the making? Did God plant that seed so that I would have the information?
As I was praying about the decision, one of the nurses walked in to check on Mom, and she could see I was troubled by not knowing what to do. Nurses are not supposed to offer those kinds of opinions, so she took a risk in helping me. She pointed to a couple of places on the list: “Don’t go there.”
I pointed to the two places that were familiar to me, and she nodded with little interest. When I pointed to the facility that was mentioned at the potluck, eagerness entered her voice: “That location is fairly new. It’s only nine years old, and it’s lovely!”
Praying as I went, I chose the three rehab facilities. I tried to call my cousin who worked with me on Mom’s care, but I couldn’t reach him. He was out in the field with his crops and out of range.
I prayed more, asking for wisdom. Finally, after trying to reach him three or four more times, I made the decision and called the social worker. I left her the message of my choices, but I really wanted the Laurels considerably more than the other two. She returned my call in about 15 minutes to tell me that we were scheduled to be at the Laurels as soon as Mom was released from the hospital.
I called my cousin. This time he answered, and I apprised him of what had happened and my decision. Indeed, God had worked this miracle for Mom. He also taught me that He will give me the people I need, like the risk-taking nurse, but I do not need any more than that. I did not need my cousin for this miracle.
Was God finished with the miracles? Not so. He had more miracles to give to my mother. The next day, which was Friday, Mom was released. The people at the rehab center were so kind that they were waiting for us at the door to help Mom get to her room.
After I unpacked her things and made sure she was settled, I left. I walked through the lobby and noticed a book on one of the small tables next to a chair. I was in awe when I read the title: Expect a Miracle. The book was published and printed where I worked. God just confirmed that I had correctly used the wisdom He put in my heart, and I was following the path He had ordained.
A little more than three weeks later, I was at a care conference with the facility leadership. I learned that the recommendation was that she should continue to live at the nursing home permanently because she needed 24-hour care. I was also told that they had no room in the long-term section of the home. Again, I was bewildered, not to mention crushed. I wanted to honor my Mom’s wishes and take her home, but God had other plans.
Not ten minutes after the meeting was dismissed, the social worker and her assistant came to me and said, “We have room in the rehab section. She can stay there until something in long-term opens up.” Within another couple of short weeks, I took another call: “We have an opening in long-term. Do you want to take it?” God took such good care of my mother.
Now all the hubbub surrounding her last moments of life was silent, but God had one more miracle to work. This time the miracle was for me.
More than 24 years prior, I had also been with my father when he had passed to his rest at home. He too fought hard but succumbed to his death. My last memory of him was seeing him zipped into a body bag. The pain of that memory drove me to my knees for a very long time. I begged God not to let me go through that with my mother.
I had spent a little quiet time in the room with her at rest, praying. I stood up, said goodbye, and left. I was not even four miles down the road when I took a call from the funeral home: “We’ve got Mom!” They were entering the building through one door while I exited through another. That was a miraculous blessing from God.
Call to Reflection
No matter how difficult the choice, will you consult with God, examine the evidence of His leading, and follow in the footsteps of our Savior?
All Scripture taken from the King James Bible.
