Do You Want the Truth?

I have been thinking about my Mom today.  I think about her every day, but today she has been in my thoughts more than usual.  It is nearly a year since she died.  Last year at this time my sister and I were taking turns at her bedside in the hospital.

One year ago, I already knew my mom would not recover. A week previously, I had spent a sleepless night on the cloud bed* listening to her breathe, ready to help her at any moment.  I prayed over and over for her to recover.  Then a horrible thought entered my mind.  "What if she doesn't make it?"  No one at the hospital had even hinted at such a possibility. So I asked God the question, waiting for comfort and reassurance.  "Heavenly Father, Mom isn't going to die is she?"  The answer came quickly, but it was not the one I wanted.  I couldn't even begin to imagine life without my mom.  I sobbed and sobbed, only stopping because Mom needed help and sadly, protection from the hospital staff.

In the morning I tried to deny the answer I had received, hoping it was just a terrible dream. I wasn't sure why God had told me the awful truth.  Probably because I asked.  But no one else seemed to be able to see it.  And I didn't feel it was my place to tell them. One of Mom's doctors didn't believe she was dying until the day before she went home for hospice.

I know that God only speaks the truth.  He gave it to me gently and only when I asked, but it was still almost too much for me to bear.  Yet, I am grateful to know that Heavenly Father is a God of truth.  He will never deceive or manipulate me.  I can trust Him to always do what is right and what is best for me, even if I don't understand it.

"And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." John 8:32 

*Cloud bed is the sarcastic name I gave to the fold-out chair that Jenny & I took turns sleeping on.  It was like laying on springs and metal bars.  To try and ease the discomfort, I asked for extra pillows.  I put them over the so-called mattress and then fitted the sheet on top of them.  As long as I didn't move or roll over (ha!) it was almost bearable.  Looking back, I should have brought an eggshell pad from home, but at the time it never occurred to me.  I guess the physical pain just seemed appropriate at a time of such emotional anguish.