As Debbie lay dying in the hospital room, I sat with her children, quietly watching. Sometimes I held her hand and tried to decipher the whispery words she offered in thimblefuls of breath. Though her earthly life was fading, she heard every word spoken in and outside of the room. She might repeat it lightly on her lips and smile. When her two daughters spoke quietly about a friend’s new baby, Debbie interjected, “Who?” then fluttered back to her dreamy world. She was so very present, even as her body was overtaken.
The day before Debbie died I stood at her side, after visiting an hour or so, and told her I was leaving and that I’d be back. The same words I had told her all week. But when my words fell upon her ear this time, she raised her hand, found a working finger and pointed at the chair from which I’d come. “Sit … down…chair” she managed. Her son and I smiled at each other. I took my seat as Debbie’s forearm still wavered in the air a bit, not sure if its job was done. I wondered what she had in mind.
All of a sudden What A Friend We Have In Jesus hung heavily in my mind and got the feeling I should sing it to her. A bit embarrassed to just break out in song, I asked Debbie’s son if she had a favorite hymn. In The Garden. I went to her side and quietly sang both hymns. She smiled a little and whispered the words I had whispered to her often, “I’m glad we reconnected.” We were always connected by our mutual friend, Jesus. Watching her go to Him, I understood this like never before.
And He said, “To you it has been granted to know the mysteries of the kingdom of God, but to the rest it is in parables, so that seeing they may not see, and hearing they may not understand. Luke 8:10
Meeting God at the Park 