Borrowed Time

I'm sitting in my mom's recliner in her living room....having taken out a tea mug and wondered which one was her favorite.  Looking through her jewelry--stuff she loved and many of them gifts to her from my father, symbols of his love--treasured by mom.  Going through her clothes to see which ones I can use and which to donate.  Things she chose.  Clothes she wore.  Her scent on them.  All ironed nicely....no matter how sick she was she ironed all their clothes.  Up until the very end when she was too weak to iron.

Mom died quietly...slipping from my father's grip to the pavement...and just like that, she was gone.  Her heart stopped and she died.  No pain.  No noise.  Jesus beckoned and she left to be with Him.  One day she was here, comfortable in her home....surrounded by the things she loved...But she left them (and the people she loved as well) without hesitation when Jesus called her name.  Like Peter leaving his nets to follow Jesus...she left it all and went with Him.

Now we are here...sifting through her treasures for  a hint of something that will make her seem more present to us.  Loving the things she loved, because she loved them.  Sad to think she is gone...but she doesn't miss any of this.  None of it.  She has all she needs met where she is and this world here is not even on her mind. 

I look forward to the day when Jesus calls me too.  I don't know when it will be. Once (when I was in my 40's) my dad predicted that I would not make it to age 50.  But here I am four years beyond that....on borrowed time?  Aren't we all on borrowed time?