This is my mom, Joan. One year ago, on June 10, 2015, Joan passed from this life into eternity. It has a been a long, sometimes hard twelve months, and I'd like to share some thoughts from - as Solomon said - the House of Mourning.
During her lifetime Joan Marie (Ehnstrom) Halvorson was a loving wife for 58 years, dedicated mom to three girls and grandma to eight "perfect" grandchildren, a devoted daughter, protective big sister, active church member, medical secretary, prayer warrior and patriot, defender of both the unborn and the nation of Israel... and my best friend.
Mom was kind, patient, encouraging and tactful. But she could also be fierce. There was a toughness and underlying tenacity.
I don't grieve for my mom. She is experiencing a peace, a joy, and a wholeness that goes beyond our limited understanding. She is with her Savior and Lord. I am sure she has already made the rounds to the Bible characters whose stories she used to teach via high tech flannelgraph in Sunday School.
Was my mom perfect? Heavens no! I think she would be the first to admit it. This great lady had no idea how great she really was. In my first phone conversation with her after her diagnosis back in September 2014, I mentioned the idea that God was maybe going to do something "profound" through her.
She "pooh-pooh'ed" that idea, insisting that there was nothing profound about her. She'd lived an ordinary life and felt like an ordinary person... In some ways that is true: My mom never won a major award or earned an advanced degree, she wasn't on Facebook and her obituary was possibly the first time her name was ever in the St. Paul Pioneer Press.
But as I watched over my mom during her two weeks in hospice, there was a lot of time to contemplate. Nights were particularly hard for her, and often we worked painstakingly, phrase by phrase through various passages of scripture: John 14, where Jesus tells his disciples that he is going to prepare a place for them and then reassures them if he goes he will come back for them, that "Where I am there you may be also." Or Romans 8 with its laundry list of all the things which CANNOT separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Or walking through Psalm 23, envisioning the places the Lord had led - and was leading - her. But my favorite, and hers, was 2 Corinthians 4:6-12, 16-18.
6 For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. 7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. 8 We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; 9 persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; 10 always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. 11 For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. 12 So death is at work in us, but life in you... 16 So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. 17 For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, 18 as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
My mom was that jar of clay and yet that jar of clay was not my mom. Not really. Because that vessel died, grew cold, and is now buried in Cottage Grove Cemetery. So what is the treasure that Paul talked about? The life of Jesus - eternal life through Jesus - that was manifested in my mom's body IN SPITE OF her cancer.
As verse 8 says, mom was physically afflicted and struck down by her cancer, but it never crushed her. She was often perplexed, struggling with why would God allow her to suffer so severely... but never driven to despair.
Sometimes it seemed she was more a lump of clay, being worked, kneaded and shaped almost painfully, right before my eyes. But we are all jars of clay. Our outer selves are all wasting away ... some faster than others, and some of us are in a more advanced state of wasting, but it is inevitable for us all. Mom's cancer just hit the "fast forward" button on her process.
We live in an ever-increasingly crazy world, full of heartache, afflictions, suffering and pain. But no matter what we face, persecution, famine, darkness, cancer or even the sword, our inner selves can be renewed day by day. That is the hope we carry within us, that treasure in these jars of clay which are our earthly bodies.
So dance with Jesus, Mama. You are loved and missed but the lives you've inspired us to live and lessons you taught us will go on. Enjoy your "eternal weight of glory" and see you soon!!!
A little background info…
May 26, 2015, I was at the UPS store sending additional documents to the Israeli Consulate in Los Angeles when I got a text message from my sister. "Hi Julaine. Mom has decided to not continue treatment. She is going into hospice...they are giving her a week or two."
My thoughts immediately flew to my kids, three of whom haven't seen her in several years, and especially my daughter, Kaitlyn, for whom it has been five years. Five years without any "grandma memories." You always think there will be more time than there really is.
For awhile it looked like none of us would be able to go, but things fell into place at the last minute and there I was ... in Minnesota, sitting in a chair next to my mom's bed watching her sleep peacefully and writing this:
June 1. I've been here since Saturday and words cannot adequately describe this process. This dying/mourning/waiting... Barry, my boss, wrote this in an email yesterday: Remember, Solomon said “It is better to be in the house of mourning, than in the house of celebration." Spiritually, God is able to speak to us through mourning in ways we are unable to hear when everything is good.
So Lord, what are you wanting us to hear right now? Because we are definitely in the house of mourning.
Nights are the worst for mom. I stayed with her last night and at times would hold her hand, stroke her hair and just watch her sleep. Her hair is starting to grow back, she's lost a lot of weight, but I still see "mom." Her pink rosy cheeks, porcelain complexion... and yet so frail. Beauty and radiance marred by cancer and decay. A fragile vessel... a jar of clay.
Watching mom waste away, various Bible references came to mind. Peter and the Psalms both compared life to grass that spring up and then wither away; James called us a mist or vapor
Nine days later, on June 10, 2015, Joan Marie Halvorson passed from this life into a glorious eternity in the presence of her Savior and Lord.
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