Granted, I've been in such a situation before. I was at my grandmother's bedside when she passed away. This was a stranger, though. It was so different. When my grandmother died, all I could do was writhe around in my own emotional knots and think about how sad I was that she was going/gone. I tried really hard to pray, but it was difficult and chaotic and I couldn't hold it together. In retrospect, I was probably praying more for myself than her. Sounds bad, doesn't it? It is, but it's also probably more common than we care to think. In those sorts of situations, our emotions step in, and our brains shut down.
Yesterday wasn't like that. I stood there completely helpless. I didn't know who this woman was or what her relationship with God was like, if she had one at all. This time, I began reciting the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. It was weird beyond measure. I thought about all the saints who have written about the moment of death and how viciously The Enemy fights for the soul in those last moments.
Most Protestants don't have this, I guess. There are either the presumptive comments about Mr. or Ms. X "going to be with Jesus" or the write-off of "all we can do is pray for the family now." It unnerves me to think now how many people die with nobody praying for THEM in that terrible hour.
2 comments:
Good post, Throwback.
My grandmother, age 95, is very near her last days. It's a good reminder for me to pray for her up to the last minute.
I will do so as well.
Kyrie eleison.
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