“Yestereve, Death came. . .”
by Elouise
This week I’ve been thinking about death, including my own. My mother and one of my three sisters, Diane, died in February. Mom died in 1999 from complications following a stroke. Diane died in 2006 after living with ALS for ten years. Both were polio survivors of a 1949 polio epidemic. Their death anniversaries are within a few days of each other.
When George MacDonald wrote the two sonnet-prayers below, he had death on his mind. His coming death–whenever that might be. He had already lost four of his eleven children to death. My comments are at the end.
January 27 and 28
Yestereve, Death came, and knocked at my thin door.
I from my window looked: the thing I saw,
The shape uncouth, I had not seen before.
I was disturbed—with fear, in sooth, not awe;
Whereof ashamed, I instantly did rouse
My will to seek thee–only to fear the more:
Alas! I could not find thee in the house.I was like Peter when he began to sink.
To thee a new prayer therefore I have got—
That, when Death comes in earnest to my door,
Thou wouldst thyself go, when the latch doth clink,
And lead Death to my room, up to my cot;
Then hold thy child’s hand, hold and leave him not,
Till Death has done with him for evermore.George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul,
© 1994 Augsburg Fortress Press
The first stanza has a slightly nightmarish quality. MacDonald addresses God. He describes what happened the night before, how he responded, and how distressed he became when he couldn’t find God in his house. Perhaps his ‘house’ refers to himself? In any case, MacDonald names his greatest fear: that God won’t be present at his death. Perhaps God abandoned him or forgot him? Or decided not to come? He doesn’t say.
In the second sonnet he’s thinking about Jesus’ disciple Peter and his bold decision to walk on water—before beginning to sink. MacDonald decides to pray a new prayer, and wants to be certain God hears it. His voice is now direct, bold and concrete. He knows exactly what he wants God to do! In fact, it seems that in the act of praying his new prayer he finds his voice, his identity and his courage to name and face the enemy.
I’m struck by how conversational MacDonald’s prayers are. They’re sometimes childlike, despite his great learning and vast vocabulary. Almost effortlessly, he weaves formal and informal prayer into his daily thought-life. Finally, I love his ‘new prayer.’ I can imagine praying it, or something like it, for myself. I was going to say “praying it someday,” but that might be foolish. Like MacDonald, I know death is coming but I don’t know when.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 February 2015
Well Elouise, I am not a theologian so I wonder whether you can tell me something? I also know death is coming but I don’t think about very much, nor very often. I could say more but I won’t for I would then contradict what I said in the few lines above.
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Well, suchled, I’m not sure what your question is. But I’ll still try to tell you something. I know what I think about. It’s pretty basic: How will I die? (Will it be like Mom? Diane? Dad? My brother-in-law? Etc.) The biggest question: When will I die? I don’t lose sleep about any of this. Yet I wonder. Especially about how much more time I have. I know I’m on the short end of the clock. I believe I should live each day, even each moment, as though it were my last on this earth. So what does that mean I do today? Whatever it is, I can’t live as though I have un-numbered days (forever). So most questions about my death are questions about what I do today. Anxious worry about tomorrow is a tempting possibility that won’t help me live today. The last sentence in your comment makes me smile. Thanks for the comment!
Elouise
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An interesting post, Elouise! I don’t worry about death one whit, and have no fear for the angel of death who will come get me. By then, it will be time. ♥ xxx 🙂
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Thanks, Fran. I do think about it (see my comment to suchled), but I don’t worry about it. I believe I’ll be ready when the moment comes, yet I do wonder what it will be like. Each of my family members had different responses to their coming deaths: pain-filled yet peaceful (Mom), emotionally difficult yet time to go (Diane), and fighting it (Dad). Then again, it can happen in a heartbeat. For which I’m ready now. I count on what you say in your last line–“By then, it will be time.” And I feel sad for all the dear family members and friends who will remain after I’m gone from this earth.
Elouise
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Ah but you see…you can be where you would like to be, in the blink of an eye, so if you want to be with your family on Earth, and surfing the waves of Bondi Beach and visiting the moon – all at once! – you can!
Won’t that be joyful? We could travel together.
(You might have to persuade your family members to notice you, though, as they probably won’t be able to see you. The very young can often see spirit, but we tend to lose that ability as we get older…..)
XXXXX 😀
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Sounds absolutely delightful to me! Actually, the letters to Diane, Mom and Dad are, strangely, ways of staying in touch with them in spirit if not in body. So are many little things around my house–not relics, exactly, but things that remind me that they’re still in me and I’m not cut off from them. In addition, I think those who have ‘gone before’ us are present in ways we may or may not see or hear. And yes, the very young are often much more likely to connect than we older folks.
Now. When you talk about ‘surfing the waves of Bondi Beach and visiting the moon’ that’s something else! 🙂
Elouise
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But….death will not “have done with [us] forevermore”….maybe (because of Jesus) death is like a mid-wife birthing us into eternal life?
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Nancy, Thanks for your comment. I like your midwife image for the process of death. It’s rich with suggestions: giving birth requires preparation, and doesn’t come without pain and labor. I believe death and dying isn’t about here today, gone tomorrow. It’s about learning to let go of what I think is mine. It’s a process of learning that begins early in life–not at death’s door. Learning to let go of yesterday, of my plans (which will vanish when I die), of people I think I ‘can’t live without’ (they don’t belong to me)–to name a few things that come to mind. A daily, conscious letting go. A bit like getting older one day at a time! But more than that.
Elouise
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I would have to say that, as a result of my faith, I am not overly concerned about facing death. To me, it is just the beginning of a whole new chapter for me. I do, however, find myself in between straits like the Apostle Paul as it relates to others. Not sure I want to leave here when it seems that there is so much to do…
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Yes. There’s definitely a struggle to let go. Even though there may be faith to get us through. Thanks for this comment.
Elouise
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Both my parents died of Cerebral stroke. Dad died at EHA hospital Fatehpur in 2000 at 79. My mummy a good believer died at 75 in 2003 when we were serving our Lord in EHA hospital Chhatarpur . During those days the Lord helped me to study for MA with DAI. Now we are at Chennai and I am 63 and enjoying good health by His grace. You had helped me so well in 2007
to finish my DAI research project . Thanks once again .
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Dear Dr. Cherian,
Thank you for this gracious note. I’m glad my post touched you and my husband David. David reposted it on his Facebook page, which is where you found it. I showed him your note. He remembers you well, and is glad to know you’re in good health. Thank you for sharing a bit about your parents’ deaths.
With David, I send kind regards,
Elouise Renich Fraser
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Reblogged this on Telling the Truth and commented:
With others, my mind and heart have been caught up in recent events that involved unscheduled, sudden death for many human beings. I’ve been thinking about this post and decided to feature it today–for all of us mortals who can be certain of one thing: Death is our common lot. Are we ready? Is God ready? Am I?
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