The Anteroom

The Net Mender, Marianne Stokes

In April I wrote in another post that when someone in our family dies, we move into a little anteroom of death--not able to follow  our loved one to the place where he has gone, but unable to go back to the everyday world, and it's the rare friend who is able to come in with us. This is what I expected to experience when my mother died, but I didn't. I didn't feel at all removed from the everyday world, nor did I feel at all separated from those around me. When I thought about it later, I realized that the reason I didn't go into the room was that I was already there. This is where I live now. And this is where I'm at home.

I know that many of you probably think that this is morbid or depressing. I'm sure that a few years ago, I would have felt the same way. But it's not. It's just that I have reached that place in my life where I have done all I felt that I needed to do, and that everything that comes now is just a prelude to that step over that final threshold.

Don't think that I'm saying that I think this is imminent. I don't. I might live for another 20 or 30 years. I might be called to do a lot of surprising things. I'm happy with my life and I'm surrounded by people I love who love me. I'll be happy to stay, but I'm also looking forward to letting go. It's a very peaceful place to be.

Death is swallowed up in victory. 

Where, O death, is your victory? 

Where, O death, is your sting? 

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. 

But thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

AMDG

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