By Dr. Donna Downs

“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die ... a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance ... a time to get and a time to lose ...” Ecclesiastes 3:1-2, 4, 6 (KJV)

When my momma said tonight she was ready to "go" — to just fly away so she wouldn't worry about a broken foot or mini strokes or barely getting around — I realized, for perhaps the first time, how deeply I’m already grieving the loss of her presence, her voice, her embrace, and the way she pats my arm when she knows I am hurting.

Over the last months, since she nearly died in the summer, I’ve often found myself crying without reason, sad when I should be happy, thinking of death when everything around me is full of life.

Now, when the winter is upon us and spring is on the horizon, beauty of the changing season abounds and speaks of God’s artistry and wonder. Even in my sorrow, He shows His glorious presence.

But it’s still hard. Watching someone I love fade away day by day, moment by moment. The stark realization that in 20 years, I’ll be walking in her shoes screams of life’s brevity and adds a deeper sense of grief as I think of my own grandchildren, how much we love one another and how they’ll miss me when I’m gone.

This time to be born and time to die thing is a reality. Solomon’s words weren’t meant to worry us, but simply state that seasons come and go, life ebbs and flows, and man continues to understand there is nothing new under the sun. We are not promised eternal life on earth, but, rather, are assured that the soul within us will continue to live through faith, mercy, and grace ... just not in these vessels of clay.

I ask myself, “Where is your joy? Where is the fruit of the spirit living within you?” And I tell myself joy exists even in sadness. Yet, tears still come and a sense of loss overtakes me, even before my momma has gone.

But, this time to mourn seems okay. Even Jesus wept. Even the spirit grieves. And surely even the Father felt immense sorrow as His son hung on the cross, though His death saved the souls of the faithful.

We can ask, “Why?” or “What is the purpose?” or “How long, Father, shall we suffer?” We can wonder about our reason for living and why we experience death and dying. We can seek answers that we may never find. Knowing faith, though, we understand each life certainly has purpose. Realizing in both life and death, we can lead others to Jesus gives us a sense of fulfillment, even in the face of mortality.

We can remember the times we shared and the love that carried us though. Relationships build memories that truly last a lifetime, and beautiful memories keep those who have gone on before alive in our hearts.

My son put it in perspective when he said to me tonight, “She’ll never stop living ... only God knows when it’s time for her to stop dying.”

We’re all dying. We’ll all leave others behind to grieve when we’re gone. But the bottom line is: We’re never really gone; we’ve just stepped away for a while until those we have left behind come to be with us. And though we are no longer walking beside them, we live within them.

Knowing that, we can laugh amid our weeping and dance amid our mourning, understanding that even in losing, we will have gained, and even upon death we are born into a new heaven and a new earth.

In this, we can let those we love simply fly away into the full glory and presence of our Lord, knowing He is there, ready to receive them with open arms.

Dr. Donna Downs is the Associate Professor of Communication at Taylor University in Upland, Ind., and the author of “Poems of Faith.” One of those poems is featured below.

Lead me to the cross

Rising from the darkness
of a deep suspended pit,
climbing, oh, so slowly,
I’m crawling out of it,
dirty and disgusting
from years and years of dross–
rising, rising, rising
to the glory of the cross.

For years I’ve lived in darkness,
seeking light to shine
and walking with so many
whose flames gave spark to mine.
That gentle little flicker
unseen and mostly lost
now is rising slowly
by the power of the cross.

Living with a conscience
seared so long ago,
feeling like a failure
who had nowhere to go,
I stumbled to the cross
whereon hung my Lord
reaching, reaching, reaching 
just to touch one board...

... or yet to touch his garment,
divvied up by lot,
give me any part of him ...
to touch, to touch—or not.
Come to me for comfort,
Come to me for peace,
Come and give your love to me,
And I will bring release.

Lead me to you, Jesus.
Lift me from the pit.
Take my hand and guide me
to a place where we can sit.
And there I’ll pledge my life to you
as you remove the dross
and gently take my outstretched hand ...
lead me to the cross.

©donna arthur downs 04.15.23