Jesus In The Corner

My late wife Lisa died from cancer (Lymphoma) when she was forty. Although they initially gave her six months to live, she made it nearly three years past her diagnosis. Being a spiritually-oriented couple, we took a good deal of time and planning to “settle all accounts,” ensuring that her process of leaving the body was as meaningful and complete as she desired.

Lisa had surgery to remove a tumor the size of a soccer ball, a spinal tap and took eleven rounds of chemotherapy in search of a cure. Her last chemo treatment finished in December of 2002, and the prognosis was it didn’t work – the cancer was still very malignant and growing.

They referred her to a radiologist who told me, “If you allow her to have radiation therapy, she’ll likely make it another three to four months.” However, Lisa and I both felt she’d been through enough torture, and she wanted to depart from this reality without more modern medicine.

Based upon what the doctors had said, she should be gone in no more than thirty days. However, a week later, she started feeling better. She was functioning normally for four to six hours per day a month after treatment stopped. Not knowing how much time remained, we became very grateful for each moment. It was an excellent practice for “being here now.”

We decided we would use her forthcoming exit as an opportunity to testify about the goodness of God no matter the circumstances. We traveled back to every church we served together in Louisiana and Texas, her bald head in a do-rag, to visit those to whom we’d previously ministered.

The Sunday we visited Bear Creek Baptist in Houston, we sat down about halfway back in the auditorium less than ten minutes before the service started. When the pastor called the meet and greet time, it seemed like the entire church moved toward Lisa. Looking back on it now, they treated her like a saint from whom they wanted a darshan (blessing). It was the longest greeting time I ever experienced while being an evangelical!

Lisa’s acceptance of her impending departure created a field of peace and calm that blessed anyone who got near her. I witnessed similar things happen over and over again. Sometimes in churches, sometimes in small group meetings, or just in our living room when folks visited her. People who feared death found deep solace in Lisa’s outlook on life, a testimony without regret.

We had rented an apartment near the Dallas Medical Center, where she took her final treatments. We were visited there by a youth minister and his wife we had served with in Moss Bluff, Louisiana. They sang “I Can Only Imagine” together with Lisa (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNDEyxEMNp0), and we all cried because we knew it wouldn’t be her imagination for very much longer.

About four months before she passed, we moved out of the apartment into a house, and folks continued to seek her out. Her sister, mother, and best friend all helped with her care in the last weeks. My mentor Brooks and his wife Kit stayed with us as well on several occasions during Lisa’s final time.

Everyone came to console her, yet she did most of the ministry. They would say something like “I’m sorry,” and she’d reply “I’m not” with such kindness. She’d talk about how satisfied she was with the years that God had given her and how excited she was to meet Jesus face-to-face. She had no regrets to confess. Lisa always encouraged every person to live their life to the fullest in Christ, even in her final days.

One of the most touching reunions that happened was with a group of seven or eight college-age young women that Lisa had personally mentored. It was about six weeks before she died, and she had begun to get physically weak. They sat around her on our bed, recalling stories of their best memories with her, tears flowing freely. From that time forward, the presence of Jesus started to get thick in the room around Lisa.

It was essential to her to die at home and not in a medical facility. So we rented a hospital bed and put it in our master bedroom next to our regular bed. I slept next to her in our bed and cared for her during the night as needed.

About four weeks before she left, her organs started to shut down. My personal opinion is that the chemo did as much or more damage to her as the Lymphoma. The hospice doctors and nurses started telling us that “we have no idea how she’s still alive.” Yet she was – because Jesus still had something for her to do. Even lying on her death bed, she was surrendering further to Him!

Lisa’s best friend’s daughter was nine months pregnant at the time and separated from the father of the baby. We allowed the young mother to stay in our home, providing a place for her to deliver the infant in peace. Lisa had counseled the young woman through several months of the pregnancy and was anxious to see the baby born before she departed.

Three days before Lisa passed on September 11th, 2003 (the day after my 33rd birthday), she started to ask me, “Can you see Jesus there?” while pointing to the hallway door in the corner that led into the master bathroom. At first, I thought it was her medication talking. However, after sitting next to her and watching the area she indicated, it was true. By being still and focusing just a little, I could definitely see an angelic presence hovering as if waiting for her. Lisa would say, “He’s here for me, and I’m ready to go.” The occurrence gave me a lot of chills.

The baby, Kayleigh, was born on September 12th, 2003. Mother and newborn came home perfectly healthy on the afternoon of September 13th. I positioned Lisa’s arms and propped pillows underneath them for support and placed Kayleigh there for my dying wife to hold. She cried and told me, “This is your daughter now.” (a story for another time)

Lisa died the morning of September 14th, seemingly having completed her mission well. After she departed, that presence in the corner vacated but left a sweet fragrance behind for a few days.

Was that really Jesus that came to get her? She thought so, and that’s all that matters. Whatever it was, the transmission of love I can still feel in my heart today. Writing this brings to mind Emanuel’s advice that “Death is perfectly safe” and “It’s like taking off a tight shoe.” From what I witnessed with Lisa, what’s next for us all is genuine rest from the world of duality and suffering we share.

“One day, walking along with one of the devotees, Maharaj-ji Baba Neem Karoli said, “So-and-so—this old woman devotee—just died.” Then he laughed and laughed. The devotee who was walking with him said, “You butcher! What are you laughing about if she just died?” Maharajji looked surprised and said, “Do you want me to pretend to be one of the puppets?” He was saying, Should I make believe I’m sad? She just finished her work and left the stage.” (from Paths To God by Ram Dass)

As humans, we tend to want to cling to life with everything we’ve got – sometimes more so when it’s a loved one. However, nobody is departing before their exact appointed time. Maharaj-ji also said, “As long as the time does not arrive, one cannot die.” I believe this is true. Lisa left on time as planned by Christ and not a moment before. Most of the tears I cried for her were selfish – are far as she was concerned, she left with the Lily Of The Valley!

When I vacate this body, I suspect (I hope) Maharaj-ji will be waiting for me – to be absent from the body is to be present with the Master. It’s my prayer that when your time arrives, your Guru will be apparent to you as well!

Ram, Ram, Ram, Ram, Ram, Ram, Ram, Ram, Ram…

Blessings,

In Christ,

JC

P.S. I’d love to hear your comments on this if you’ve gone through something similar. Thanks.