May 12, 2024
Originally posted on Facebook
“Thank you Jesus!” Those were Kathy’s words. I remember one evening a few years ago, we were eating dinner at our kitchen table when Kathy suddenly gasped, startling the boys and me into a momentary panic as we looked around wondering what happened. Then she exclaimed, “Oh thank you Jesus!” Looking out the window, she had just seen the first hummingbird arrive to visit her newly installed feeders on the back patio, and she was overcome with delight. She didn’t know if it was going to work. All she knew was she wanted to see if she could attract such a beautiful bird to our humble habitat. Sure enough, it was right there, darting back and forth to sip from its newfound nectar source. There was such giddy gratitude in her voice and tears of joy in her eyes, almost in disbelief that such a wonderful creature could accept her invitation and show up to put on a show as if just for her. I say “almost in disbelief” because Kathy knew enough to believe—believe indeed that such blessings were possible. She knew that not even a single tiny bird could fly by, or ever fall to the ground, apart from the watchful will of our good God and Father in Heaven.
That belief was so deeply rooted in her that those words were instinctive, and her bold declaration of praise just blurted out. “Thank you Jesus!” is also the very first thing she mumbled a few years earlier when she roused from general anesthesia. They completed the surgery that fateful summer nearly seven years ago, having suspected a cancer skirmish somewhere near her ovaries, then finding an all out war zone throughout her abdomen. She hadn’t heard yet about all the tumors they had found; she didn’t know yet about all the organs they removed. All she knew was she was waking up, and the first thing on her mind was praising God, thanking Jesus. We were almost in disbelief that we could feel the relief of surviving the procedure alongside the grief of what it revealed, and wanting to celebrate the success of the surgical strike and rescue operation alongside dreading the harrowing process of recovery and healing ahead. I say “almost in disbelief” because we knew enough to believe—believe indeed that such news—whatever the news, and the mixed emotions it stirs up, would not transpire apart from the purposeful providence of the holy one true God. We knew that walking by faith meant longing for the world to be put right, alongside enduring its wrongs; beseeching God for expedited healing, alongside trusting him when the path of suffering seems long; and realizing the depths of our own sin alongside receiving forgiveness by grace that runs deeper still. For Christ himself, the cross brought the worst evils this world could commit alongside the greatest love and joy the world would ever know. We had been rehearsing our whole lives for rejoicing when God gives, alongside mourning when he takes away, and through it all, to say “Blessed be the name of the Lord.” As I tried to respond to her half-conscious questions, explaining that it was confirmed as cancer and they removed what they could, she just kept saying under her breath, “Thank you Jesus.”
Those were Kathy’s words. And they’re my words. I am repeating after her, “Thank you Jesus.” I don’t know how God knits together a woman like her—deeply caring and widely connected, full of conviction and compassion, sincere and silly, affectionate and adorable, competent and cuddly, so kind and such a good kisser, spiritually perceptive and emotionally sensitive, a dedicated educator and devoted wife and mother (and daughter, sister, niece, cousin, aunt, great aunt, friend, colleague, etc.), comfortable around the elderly and children alike, drawn to those with special needs while drawing the company of those with special talents, as open hearted toward people who were different from her as she was with her kindred folk, a lovely singer who loved to sing with others, competitive and humble, playful and pleasant, nurturing and neighborly, fun and funny, tender and tenacious, genuine and generous, a versatile vision of beauty: as cute in a T-shirt as she was classy in a dress, down to earth and downright heavenly …And I don’t know how he knit her together with a guy like me. All I know is I’m almost in disbelief that such a blessing of a person could be my bride for over 25 years. I say “almost in disbelief” because I know enough to believe–believe indeed that such grace is how God knits together all the gifts for his children, and that no good thing is enjoyed apart from the bountiful beneficence of our great God and Father of Lights.
But today, I’m unraveled in the dark. Almost. I’m saying “Thank you Jesus” through gritted teeth and quivering chin. The same faith that gave Kathy wings all the way through her dying ordeal is the faith that suffers loss, yet without losing joy; that burns with groaning at this broken world, yet without losing gratitude; that grieves in pain, yet without losing the hope of glory; that laments, yet worships. So I’m trying to say these words right now, but it hurts. I can barely mutter them without crumbling. But my struggle to say them as strongly as they are sincere does not make the reality of their premise less true. Jesus is Lord of heaven and earth, and there is no other name worthy to be praised. And so it shall be. Our life’s best shot at not imploding under the crushing weight of this mortal existence is to repent, and reinforce it with grateful trust in its Architect. This is how Kathy’s sweet spirit stayed strong even as her disease-ravaged, treatment-fatigued body got weaker. She claimed God had done a miracle in her to grant her a peace beyond her own understanding. God, my understanding is exhausted. My strength is depleted. My heart has been torn apart. May your peace rush in. Oh my soul, you’ve gotta get this… Thank you Jesus. Thank you Jesus for her life and the life we shared. Thank you Jesus that the mother these two boys are missing today was this Godly gem of a woman they’ll forever cherish and whose loving light that shone on them this far will forever radiate in their life and illuminate their path. Thank you Jesus that she gave us the great gift of the assurance of her faith in you, and that we’ll know where to find her as we likewise follow your way of life. Thank you Jesus that you are full of grace and truth, and that your Father’s—our Father’s ways are higher than mine, so that in his sovereign timing, this path must be for God’s greatest glory; in dying, Kathy’s greatest gain; and somehow for the rest of us still living, our greatest good in Christ.
So, those are my words now, as they were Kathy’s words. I believe they are Kathy’s words once again, in a whole new way. I imagine her waking up on the other side of death, instinctively reciting, “Thank you Jesus.” But this time, she reaches out with renewed strength to take the nail-scarred hand being extended to her and, looking up with those big brown eyes, realizes it’s him! She is telling him directly, face to face, “Thank you Jesus!” It seemed like Kathy always had such faith, but even if there had ever been a time she might have almost disbelieved, she knows enough now to believe—believe it all indeed. It’s all true. Jesus really has been preparing a place, making all things new so the sad things become untrue. The wait was not in vain, the struggle and pain were not wasted. His joy was made complete, now her faith is satisfied; his sacrificial love was victorious, now her hope is fulfilled. She is home, she is healed, and she is free. Rest in peace, sweetheart, his good and faithful servant. Thank you Jesus!
I’m saying those words as she said those words. I’ve said these words because of her. I’m also saying them now on account of all of you who have been such an encouragement to her and our family. I’ve said those words with her. Now I’m saying them without her. I’m so sad, as I know you are. Even so, will you join me? You don’t have to know much, and we don’t have to understand everything, and we don’t have to like any of it. Even if you’re almost in disbelief, or maybe you’re already there, will you dig deeper and look higher and make these your words as well. Nothing would have made Kathy happier than to hear you say it, and nothing would honor God more now than to hear this from more of his children who’ve turned around in the midst of everything that pulls us in the other direction. Say it with me, repeat after Kathy, “Thank you Jesus.”