I was raised by good hard working parents. My mom was a kool-aid mom, where all the neighborhood kids would flock to our house to be loved on and fed, no matter how many. Dad was a hard worker, never complained, never missed work. Good people, but people who thought that "good" was good enough, that this was being a Christian. That is a hard yoke to break.
I got saved when I was 20, miraculously, and shortly thereafter, wrote them a letter telling them of what happened to me and prayerfully sharing with them what salvation is, a trusting, rather than a doing. My mom called me and told me to never write another letler like that again, as it had hurt my dad greatly.
Three weeks later, my died died of a massive coronary in his sleep. As badly as I felt after being chastened by my mom about the letter, I am so thankful that I obeyed the Lord and wrote it.
Year passed, with my mom becoming a lonely alcoholic, still good, still kind, and thank God, eventually she joined AA, found sobriety, and worked in a drug and alcohol rehab clinic, where everyone called her "Mom". It was her calling.
I never again mentioned the Lord, or the path to salvation. I prayed, a lot. When she was 78, she had a severe stroke, and was near death. She could not move, except for one hand. She could not swallow, so was being fed by tube. She could not talk, at least intelligibly. She would try, so very hard, to mouth out the words she wanted to say buyt there was a disconnect between her brain and her mouth. The only words she could say, and clearly, were cuss words. "[bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse]" would escape her lips every time she would try to speak and could not get the words out. Strange how that works.
Anyway, my older sister, who was always the "intelligent one", LOL, the "responsible one", who was an agnostic and a U.S. District attorney, she and I flew out to see her. We stayed three days, but both of us had to leave to get back to our employment, our families, and it killed me that mom was facing an eternity where good was not good enough. I prayed that God would give me an opportunity to share the Lord with her again after all those years, but with my "big" sister there in her hospital room every minute, the opportunity never presented itself. It was time to leave for the airport, and we both tearfully kissed her goodbye, most likely for the last time.
As Dyanne and I got in the car, I remembered a picture that Mom had that she had promised me, and I ran back in to get it. When I entered her room, Mom's eyes lit up and she began to motion me over to her side, slowly with her one hand she could move. As I came up by her side, she reached out and shakingly grabbed my hand, and slowly placed it on her chest, with her withered, old, trembling hand on top of it. She then looked deep in my eyes and as clearly as I am typing the word, she said "Pray".
Right then, I was privelidged to finish what God had started with her in the letter he had me write twenty some years before. The look on her face when she finished was beyond priceless. The peace of God was all over her. She was at rest with HER God. Her life had not been lived in vain.
She died three days later, and that gift that Gid gave me from being able to participate in His work in her I can never repay. Thank you Lord, for your amazing grace.
Blessings,
Gideon