Living or dying?

Are you living to die or dying to live?

In 1985, I began my course work in hospice in south central Idaho. I found the classes to be very interesting and comforting to know that in a time of family crisis, I could help others.

One man who came to the class to speak with us has held a place in my memory all these years. I do not remember his name but do remember his sad story. For the purposes of this message, I will call him John.

Twelve years before visiting the class, John had been diagnosed with an inoperable, benign brain tumor. Doctors did not know how long he would live, how long it would take for the tumor to entwine itself so deeply into the brain that one day, John would die.

In those 12 years, John planned nothing. He never accepted invitations for family dinners or other social activities. He didn’t take vacations. He didn’t plan on birthdays. He didn’t buy anything new because he might not live to enjoy it. Whenever an invitation was issued, John’s stock answer was, “Don’t plan on me. I may not be here.” John lived a temporary life.

When John was asked to speak to our class, he at first refused. At last he agreed that if the person inviting him came by to pick him up and he were still alive, that he would come.

In twelve years, John had not lived. John was living to die.

I think back to 1975 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the young age of 27, the youngest in the state at that time, according to what my surgeon knew. The most devastating part of the diagnosis was not the cancer; it was the statement that in those days, having my own child and surviving to see the child born or to raise a child were 100% failure. There were many moments when I just wished the doctor had closed me up and let me die.

Then in 1983, through adoption, God blessed me with my beautiful daughter. Her arrival exceeded all my dreams, filled my aching arms, and loving her, filled in the gaps of my broken heart.

Most of you have read enough of this blog to know how my daughter lived, how she struggled to recover from a hypoxic-anoxic brain injury for 16 months, and how she died on October 1, 2012.

I spent the winter writing her book, Condemned to Die: Ask me how. Tell me why. As I finished the book, my heart said, “Can I come home now, God?” Brenna’s little min-pin Gibbs put his little feet on my knees, looked at me as if to say, “Grammie, Brenna left me to you.”

While I knew I was to complete Brenna’s mission on earth, I saw no real future for me. I had joined many others who were just living to die.

I wandered in my brain. I just wanted to move… anywhere. I thought I would just get in the old motor home with two dogs and just amble from place to place, no future planned, no real goal in mind except to someday go to Washington, DC, to speak with congressional leaders on the failures of the broken system. I had no real plan.

God placed the Taskmaster in my life to refocus and remove the burden of the logistics from my shoulders. Even then, I had no plan.

Then July 29, 2012, I woke up in the morning and knew; I wanted to live. I wanted to see the sun rise again.

My heart will always grieve the loss of my precious Brenna Deshawn. Yet, I know that she wants me to move ahead with her mission that God planned for her life. I know she wants her mom to be happy again.

On July 29, 2012, I truly joined the living again. I now am dying to live. I would rather have a few moments of happiness and joy than to live my life, wandering aimlessly through life, never planning anything for a future, never looking ahead.

My question to you is: Are you living to die or dying to live?