Two Years

Today dawned cool and clear. Much cooler, in fact, than I would expect on the first day of summer in this usually torrid time of year. That's why I think Laura is praying for us again. Last year on this day it quite unexpectedly rained, as you can read in my last post.

I asked the Lord for a word from Scripture, a word from Laura that He would permit to be given through the word of God, so that I could have no further questions about her eternal happiness. Maybe I expect to have a vision of her in glory before I stop wondering about the mystery of death and the afterlife! Despite my confidence in her salvation, I still tend to look for confirmations. Well, I received one, along with a mild reproach, to the effect that I should have known by now: "Take heart; it is I. Have no fear... O man of little faith, why did you doubt?" (Mt. 14:27, 31). There's actually much more to it than that, and it is published in greater detail on my own blog. Click here to read the full account.

There's something else that happened today, which makes me think she was with us in our Liturgy in the church, and that she was praying for a certain man, a friend of ours whom she befriended during her several visits here at the monastery. During the prayers after Holy Communion, he was so moved by God's grace that he began to weep, which had never happened before. His wife told me later: "I've been waiting 30 years for that to happen."

So I think Laura continues to do good from Heaven as she said she wanted to. I don't have much more to say now. I just wanted to mark the anniversary. I think she's praying for me too, as this "Year for Priests" has just begun in the Church. The graces have been almost palpable these first three days. The loss of a loved one is a cause for sorrow, yet the heavenly intercession of a departed loved one is a cause for joy.

Abbot Joseph

One Year

Today marks the first anniversary of Laura’s death. In some ways it seems like it has been a long time, and in other ways it all seems very recent. Probably she has little awareness of the passage of earth-time anymore, since she is in the heavenly “time zone.” She must feel as if she has only very recently stepped through the Pearly Gates, what with all the wonder and blessing and new joys to discover. It’s almost too hard to imagine: is she really walking through Paradise with the Mother of God, to whom she prayed often to be with her at the hour of her death? And is she singing incredibly beautiful hymns with St Ephrem, whose lyrical writings she enjoyed so much? Is she having lunch (as it were) with St Joseph and St John the Evangelist, whose icons she painted here below? Is she looking into the eyes of Jesus, who loved her with an everlasting love and drew her to Himself after she shared in his Passion during her last weeks of suffering? Our minds are so limited. We don’t know much more than our own small troubles and joys, and the little bit of God’s wonders that we may have had the good fortune to experience, however briefly.

But of course, she is there and it is more than she could even communicate to us, should she be given the opportunity. Perhaps one reason the faithful departed don’t come to visit us very often is simply that we probably wouldn’t understand a thing they would tell us, since their new reality is so far beyond anything we could relate to in our own experience. They are the same persons, yet not the same. They are elevated, transformed; they see with eternal eyes now, and their thoughts are no longer like our thoughts. But they smile upon us and pray that we have the faith and the good sense to persevere in loving and serving the Lord on earth, so that we too may enter one day into the brilliant magnificence of the glory of God and the joy of the saints.

Back in February I received a couple e-mails from a newly-ordained priest who was known to Laura and who was with her shortly before she died. Once I had heard, through others, that another priest had been there, I wanted to know more details about how things were near the end of her life. He shared with me the following description of his visit to her, which has given me further consolation and confirmation that the Lord took special care that she would die in his grace and mercy, and be welcomed into his heavenly Kingdom.

“After the Priestly Ordination and First Mass this June, I had to leave directly to our Annual Priest’s Convocation at Ocean Shores for that week, and then proceed to Masses of Thanksgiving Port Angeles, WA, both about 4-5 hours from Anacortes [where Laura lived]. Being totally exhausted and pulled in many directions, I felt horribly guilty about not visiting Laura in the days before and after the Priesthood Ordination, noticing that she was not present for the celebrations and hearing from parishioners that she was near her end. I was praying that I might be able to see her before she died. I remember I had talked with her when she was bedridden about the date of my ordination on the Feast of St. Ephrem, and she lit up and talked for quite some time about how beautiful his hymns are.

“Finally a day or two before I was to leave again for some more Masses in the southern part of the diocese… I concelebrated Holy Mass at St. Mary’s, and then decided it was time to go see Laura. After Mass, I caught Sr. Mary Matthew and Kathy Moore, and asked them to come with me… This would also be my first Anointing and giving of the Last Rites.

“When we arrived, JP [one of her sons] met us at the door and showed us to her room with all the beautiful icons. Sr. Mary Matthew and Kathy had already been in the room first and were praying over her with the Relic of the True Cross. I was shocked at how emaciated she was. JP said that she should have died weeks before, and that she had been restless, and was waiting for the priest to come. When I knelt down to look at her, she started to react, though she could not say anything, but I know she knew who I was. I told her I was just ordained and was going to give her the Last Rites. So for the first time in my priesthood, with her family present and the good sisters praying, I led the prayers, and then gave her the Absolution, and for the first time of my priesthood, I then gave her the Apostolic Pardon, laid my hands on her and gave her the Sacrament of the Anointing. She was alert and responsive throughout the whole ceremony, and afterwards. I then thanked her for waiting for me and allowing me the privilege to exercise priestly ministry to the sick for the first time with her. I know she tried to respond. She tried to speak after it was over, but she did seem more at rest. I stayed a bit with her, blessed the room and the family with Holy Water, and [we] paid our respects and left.

“Later I learned with great emotion that she had died shortly after I was there that day. It was about 10:30 AM when we arrived at the house, I forget when we left [Laura died about 2:15 PM]. I think the fact she let go so soon afterward reassures me that she was at peace with the Lord that day. Though I barely knew Laura for only a few years and with brief exchanges and visits at church and related to her son, it still was a very humbling experience to know that she did wait almost two weeks since my ordination for the priest to come welcome her home. I still regret not having arrived sooner, but I know she is praying for me all the same… Also, I had the privilege to concelebrate the Divine Liturgy of her funeral with Fr. Stanichar and Fr. Vu Tran. It was all quite a dream and a sorrow and a joy!”

I don’t know if I’ll have much more to say on this blog, unless Providence decrees that I become the happy recipient of some vision or miracle related to her. But I did want to acknowledge this anniversary, the first—and most difficult, I’m sure—and again to thank all those who “kept vigil” on this blog as she prepared to enter the Kingdom, and all those who prayed for her. May her prayers for us now help keep us on the narrow but life-giving path to the Kingdom of Heaven.

One last thing. Since I have not actually heard personally from Laura since she died, though I believe St Therese gave me a sign of her salvation, I still have wanted something clearer. I thought to myself that I should ask for some "sign from Heaven," though I figured that the Lord figured that He had given me enough. I thought, "if it rains on her anniversary, that will be a sign she is safe in Heaven." That may not sound like much, but where I live we don't usually get a drop of rain from about mid-May to October or so, and there is always danger of wildfires because everything is so dry. I was a little afraid to seek this sign, because it would be like setting myself up for disappointment. The weather forecast was as it always is this time of year. Same every day: sunny, sunny, sunny. As I write this post it is raining...

Abbot Joseph

Doing Good from Heaven

Laura had said before she died, as did St Therese the Little Flower, that she would like to spend her Heaven doing good on Earth, as long as the Lord would allow it. She has evidently already begun, by helping to strengthen an acquaintance's faith in God's presence in the Holy Eucharist. She had once told me that after she died she would hang around the sanctuary in our church during the Liturgy, to "see what goes on" behind the iconostas during the consecration. Well, she's doing even more than that now!

I will quote here from a letter I recently received from this lady. (Since I haven't asked her if I could publish it, I'll change her name and call her "Mary". She had met Laura the year before she died and had prayed much for her.)

"I prayed as persistently as I could every day as her condition worsened... When she finally passed, I felt 'lost'. Thank you again for posting her update on her passing. It helped and touched me a lot, and I cried. I also felt 'lost' because I had been praying so hard and continuously. I felt like I was a train on full speed and suddenly I had to stop. I was at a loss as to what to do: should I continue to pray for her? Another question was: 'Did she know I was praying hard for her?' ... The answers came during Sunday Mass; I felt her presence very strongly during that Mass, and yes, she knows I did pray hard for her. [She added that whenever she would remember Laura in prayer she would think of the monks too and pray for us, and she said she felt Laura's joy over this.]

"As soon as I entered the premises of Mt Tabor, I felt very strongly Laura's presence. Father, often when I feel something strongly, my tears roll down my eyes... [During her retreat, the priest giving a talk emphasized that it is really God in the Holy Eucharist.] Anyway, that night inside me I said, 'How can we be sure it is really God?' I asked Jesus the Teacher--I visualized one of my favorite icons, Jesus the Teacher, because I always ask for wisdom--to teach me to know more about this.

"The next day, Saturday, during your beautiful Divine Liturgy, I felt Laura's presence very very strongly on and off during the whole Mass; tears kept rolling and rolling down. During the consecration Laura said, while pointing to the hosts you were consecrating: 'Mary, GOD IS THERE!' Father, it was very powerful. I thought I would have to use my shirt to wipe my tears! ... My soul does know it is really God in the Host..."

I wanted to share this with you, not only to give this evidence of Laura's doing good on Earth while in Heaven, but also to help reflect a little on the mysteries that she can see clearly but that we still must embrace in faith. Let us be encouraged to approach the Holy Mysteries with reverence and love, and with gratitude to Him who said: "Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me and I in him... Whoever eats this bread will live forever" (John 6:56-58).

I'm also glad to know that she is making her presence felt here at our monastery, and helping others come closer to God. I wouldn't have known what "Mary" was struggling with, but because of the spiritual connection she had with Laura on Earth, God worked through Laura to speak the word of truth and life to her soul. What good things God has prepared for those who love Him!

Abbot Joseph

Laura's Book is Now Available

The book of Laura's writings, with fairly extensive commentary of my own, is available now. It is entitled (appropriately): Prepare for the Kingdom: A Journal of Hope in the Face of Death. You can purchase it by clicking here. Just scroll down till you see the image of her book. It will be available at Amazon eventually, but is not yet at this writing.

I hope and pray that this book will be for many the occasion to reflect upon their lives and their relationship to God, so that they may prepare well to meet Him when that inevitable moment arrives. Too many people live their lives heedless of their eternal destiny, and so I hope that Laura's words will be a kind of wake-up call and reminder that our hearts are restless until they rest in God. I'm sure she will be praying from Heaven that her book will, by God's grace, make a real difference in people's lives, for the sake of their salvation.

If you know someone who is perhaps terminally ill or who may for some other reason need to reconcile with God before their death, please do not hesitate to recommend this book--or better yet, just buy it and give it to them! Thank you and God bless you.

Abbot Joseph

Thanks to All

I would like to thank all of you who have shared Laura's journey and have supported her with your encouragement and prayers. I trust she is smiling upon us all from Heaven. It has been a long and difficult journey, but if she has attained eternal happiness, that is all that matters. Soon I will be working on her book, which I hope will be ready by the end of this year, or perhaps the beginning of next year. In any case, I will let you know. This blog will remain active indefinitely for those who want to continue to reflect on the mystery of the approach to eternity, but all of her writings (and some additional material, including my own commentary and personal reminiscences) will be incorporated into the book.

Abbot Joseph

More Thoughts on Laura's Passing

I’d like to share with you a few thoughts, more or less random, that have come to me during these days of mourning for Laura. Perhaps they may be of some benefit to you as you ponder the mysteries of life and death. I plan to write more for our monastery newsletter’s summer issue, but perhaps this will suffice for now.

First, I’m grateful that Laura was blessed with a holy death, even though her sufferings were prolonged (but that may have contributed to the holiness). She had the priceless and indispensable benefit of access to the sacraments of the Church, for one thing. They say that the Catholic Church is sometimes the hardest one to live in, but it’s the very best to die in! Everything that can possibly be done for the soul preparing to meet God is done through the ministry of the Church. She also had the benefit of being in an environment of love and care, where all her needs were met by her family and the hospice nurses (and the visiting priests!). So many people die alone, in hospitals, nursing homes, prisons, tenement apartments, war- or strife-torn lands or even on the street. Even though the Lord called her to suffer, He gave her the best possible environment in which to spend her last days. She may have shared something of the darkness and apparent abandonment of his passion, but at least she was not brutally tortured, and mocked and reviled on top of it, as was our Savior.

The next point is perhaps a bit fanciful, but I can’t help wondering what the experience of her soul leaving her body must have been like. After all, she was sleeping. Did she think she was having a dream and then suddenly realized it was no dream but that angels had really come and taken her to the presence of the Holy One? Or was she actually dreaming of the Lord, and her dream unexpectedly came true, to her delight and joy? Or while to the eye of an observer she was asleep, was she really in some kind of interior communion with the Lord, who was calling her to rise and come to Him? We’ll never know that until we ask her ourselves in Paradise, but I find the various possibilities quite fascinating.

One thing I’ve been thinking about is the very moment that I received the news. It is very difficult to describe everything that was packed into that instant when I heard the words: “She’s gone!” I was hoping and praying for her liberation and entrance into Heaven, yet it was as if some rushing flood had suddenly overwhelmed me, and I almost didn’t know how to react. Perhaps all the accumulated emotion and stress and prayer and waiting of the past few weeks had in that instant coalesced into a point of extreme density and suddenly found its release. I was happy, sorrowful, relieved, in pain, in gratitude, and in some other nameless feeling all at once. There’s an incredible finality to death. A loved one can be in a coma for months, but when they finally pass it is still a shock, a loss that feels like it was unexpected, even though it wasn’t. Even when Laura was mostly unconscious, there was still a possibility that she might at least temporarily revive (as happened a couple times before) and I could talk to her. Now it was no longer a possibility. She left this world and is not coming back. I was expecting that call at any moment, yet I somehow couldn’t quite grasp the full import of it when it finally came. Perhaps we have our own scenarios of how we’d like to see things happen, but death foils them all and leaves us no time to reset the stage. When the moment arrives, one must inexorably go.

Laura told me about a sort of vision she had, maybe a year ago, when she was in our monastery church. It was as if it were the moment of her death, and she felt two angels escorting her to the presence of the Lord. The vision did last long enough for her to see Him or know what happens at his judgment seat, but the thing that impressed her was the absolute certainty that that’s where she was going, and the same certainty that she had no choice in the matter. The angels were gentle, but firm enough so that she realized that she was utterly unable to turn back, even if she wanted to. When they take you, you go. You cannot resist. Perhaps she was being given a little advance notice of what to expect when her soul would leave her body. The experience did not leave her afraid, yet it was sobering.

Laura had 54 years in which to “prepare for the Kingdom.” She didn’t spend all of those years actively doing so, but thanks be to God the last three or four were quite focused on this preparation. It’s over now. Her time is up. There’s nothing more she can do—not that she needs to, but the point is that we are allotted a certain number of years on earth in which our eternal destiny is prepared and decided. Some people have many more years than Laura did, some have many less. We don’t know when it is going to be over, when the moment will come that we have to make an account for our lives, the moment when there will be no more chances to do things differently. It may come suddenly; the Lord constantly has reminded us to watch, be ready, for we know not the day or the hour. Are you ready right now if suddenly the Lord appeared and said, “It is time”? Laura was blessed not only to have several years to take stock of her life and turn wholeheartedly to the Lord; she also had a period of decline in which she knew death was imminent and could focus all her available energies on meeting the Lord face to face so that her entrance into Paradise could be richly provided for. Many people are not so fortunate. This is why life has to be a preparation for the Kingdom. This preparation cannot be postponed until a convenient time, because that time may never materialize. We are perhaps not sufficiently aware that there is no second chance once we die. We may or may not be given many chances while we live, but we have to live in such a way as to be spiritually ready for death and judgment at any moment.

I have prayed much and with fervor and even tears, both before and after Laura’s death. I have learned that nothing wounds more deeply than love, especially if that love is rooted in the love of Christ. You can only hurt so much from the attacks of an enemy, for the hatred or malice of an enemy cannot access the depths of the human heart. Those depths can only be freely opened to others in love, but once opened they are forever vulnerable, and one is powerless to defend oneself. I think Jesus was showing us this when He allowed his heart to be pierced on the Cross. It was a symbol of what had already happened. He says to each of us, whose sins crushed Him to death: “If an enemy had done this, I could bear it… But it is you, my companion, my intimate friend” (Ps 55:13-14). His love for us made the wound all the more painful. Perhaps, when grieving the loss of a loved one, we can identify with Mary’s heart as well, which was “pierced by a sword,” according to Simeon’s prophecy, when she saw her beloved Son crucified in agony before her eyes. Love is the only sword that can penetrate that deeply. Yet love is also what makes us most fully human, and because humans are created in the image of God, who is Love, it makes us most like Him.

So now I have to “switch gears” and go back to my usual rounds of prayer and work and ministry. I was able, mostly, to do so during the past weeks, but some things will be different now. There will be no anxious checking of phone messages to see if there has been any development, no focusing of prayer upon Laura’s final preparation and purification (though I will continue to pray for her soul until she appears to me and tells me she’s already in Heaven!). There’s a kind of relief now, yet also a kind of emptiness. There’s peace, yet the grieving is not over. There’s gratitude and joy for her joy, yet there is that sword-point of loss. I think, though, that it’s not just going to be a return to my usual life. I think Laura is praying for me. My vision has improved; my life is coming into sharper focus. I’m going to spend the rest of it preparing for the Kingdom.

Abbot Joseph

May Her Memory Be Eternal!

“Love never ends… when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away… now we see dimly, but then face to face. Now we know in part; then we shall understand fully…” (1Cor 13:8-12). Laura now sees face to face; she understands fully, for the imperfect has passed away. Laura died today at about 2:15 PM. She was 54 years old. Laura was sleeping, and the hospice nurse had just arrived, and she and Laura’s daughter Stephanie were about to change the dressings on her bedsores. They noticed she had stopped breathing and then checked and discovered that her heart had stopped as well. No violent throes, no last gasp. Her body quietly ceased functioning as her soul went to the Lord. Stephanie called me shortly afterward with the longed-for yet dreaded news, fully expected yet still a shock. When I answered the phone she said simply: “She’s gone!” We both had a good cry and talked a little. Shortly afterward I prayed a short memorial service for her and will do a fuller service later. Stephanie was right to say “gone” and not “dead,” for Laura is not dead, only her body is. Laura has gone to Heaven to be with her beloved Lord, for whom she suffered, in whom she believed and trusted, to whom she fervently prayed. She has gone to the place where “death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away” (Rev 21:4). God has wiped every tear from her eyes, even though our eyes may still be full of tears. But though they are to some extent tears of pain over the loss of her, they are also tears of joy and gratitude that God has taken her unto Himself, that she has fought the good fight and run the race. She has made it! She is now entering into the realization of the reason of her being; she now knows perfectly clearly why God created her, and she “rejoices with unutterable and exalted joy” (1Peter 1:8) and will do so forever. The next verse reads: “As the outcome of your faith you obtain the salvation of your souls.” I am really very happy for her—not too happy for myself, but very happy for her!

I am also happy that the Lord in his mercy allowed me to be an instrument in her salvation. She first came to the monastery with her husband in the early ‘80s, and we got to know each other then, though not particularly well. After a few years of regular retreats, she stopped coming and we fell out of touch. A number of years went by, and she experienced many troubles and hardships, and she fell away from the Church and the sacraments, but not her faith, which was still alive in the depths of her soul, though I think she tried to more or less ignore it. At a certain moment in June of 2003 (this has been almost exactly a four-year adventure) she providentially discovered our website and decided to e-mail me, not sure if I would even remember her. She was at a particularly low point in her life. I was glad to hear from her and invited her to make another retreat here and we would talk about her life and her relationship with God and the Church.

The Lord blessed us very much. We renewed our friendship, and most importantly, Laura responded to the grace of God and returned to the Church and the sacraments. She did so wholeheartedly, even though it took some time to enter deeply into her spiritual life. About six months later she was diagnosed with cancer of the pancreas.

She had never been sick in her life; it was a devastating blow to both of us, but there were two obvious graces to be noticed right off. First, she had turned back to God months before she had the slightest idea she was sick (the cancer was only discovered “by accident” when she had to see a doctor about an apparently unrelated case of jaundice). That means she wouldn’t have to wonder if her conversion were sincere, as if she were forced to turn to God only in desperation and fear of death. The second grace is the realization that God had foreseen all of this and arranged everything so that she would be in his grace when this “death sentence” was pronounced. How loving and merciful He is! She later told me that if she had been in her pre-conversion (or pre-“reversion,” as they call it) state when she received that diagnosis, she would have been utterly terrified and would probably have fallen into despair.

She underwent a long and dangerous surgery (in March of 2004), and I went up to be with her for a while at that time, till she was out of the hospital at least. She then underwent a grueling series of chemo and radiation treatments that nearly killed her. She cut them short and said that she would rather live the rest of her life, even if it would be shorter. She recovered slowly, but as soon as she was able (I think it was actually a little sooner than she was able!) she returned to the monastery to give thanks and to reconnect with the life and prayer of the monks, all of whom she soon grew to love. She wanted to grow spiritually. Even though she was extremely grateful to have been in the Lord’s grace when she went through her surgery and all that, she said she still did not feel spiritually prepared to die. I invested her in the Brown Scapular (she is Roman Catholic but preferred Byzantine Liturgy and spirituality), and I tried to assure her that she was on the path to salvation. She had a strong but healthy sense of repentance, as her writings show, and this kept her close to Truth. Her favorite psalm was Psalm 50(51).

I helped her as much as I could, teaching her the Divine Office and other ways of prayer, answering her questions about God and the Scriptures, etc.—even having a few debates once in a while. She was eminently teachable, but still had her own mind and opinions! She made fairly frequent retreats over the next year and a half, and her health improved remarkably well. Aside from a little extra fatigue, she was living a normal, healthy life, and we entertained the hope that perhaps the Lord had actually healed her completely. I suggested once in a while that she have a scan just to check, but she didn’t want to, saying that if she felt fine that was enough for her. During this time she also received the gift from God to write holy icons. She has done several that are in our church, as well as the one for our shrine of the Mother of God, which we dedicated in August of 2005. I am blessed and honored that she gave me the very first icon she ever wrote (the Holy Face, which you can see at the "Laura's icons" site). The last icon she wrote was, appropriately, the Crucifixion.

In March of 2006, she had a routine doctor’s appointment. Afterward, she called me and said, “Fr Joseph, be strong…” My heart sank. They found that the cancer had returned and had also spread, and they couldn’t do anything about it except buy her a little time with more chemo. The prognosis: minimum lifetime left, 4 months; maximum, 2 years (it ended up being a year and three months). She went on a milder form of chemo for a short time, but then gave it up. Again, she wanted to fully live whatever time she had left.

During that time she was sharing some of her thoughts with me—good ones, too!—about life and death and getting ready to cross the threshold into eternity. That’s when I suggested she start a blog and share them with the world. She hesitated at first, but I didn’t relent, and I think many people are glad that she wrote. Six weeks or so before she died she asked me to publish her blog in a little book, as I published my blog posts in book form. I will honor her request, and add some more information about her journey toward the Kingdom, and hopefully it will be published early next year.

Even though we knew her days were numbered, she still felt pretty well and still came to Mt Tabor, and so even though we talked about her approaching death, the magnitude of it didn’t really sink in. After all, there she was, healthy-looking (if a bit too thin), smiling, talking, attending services in our church, etc. Then came Holy Week of 2007.

Her family called me and said they had to rush her to the ER in the middle of the night because of severe pain. They thought she might die right then. I was deeply grieved, not only because of this turn of events, but because I could not be there to comfort her. It is would have been wrong for me to leave the monastery during Holy Week, for this is my primary responsibility. But as she declined further, I did go and spend a few days with her, a couple weeks after Easter. She was frail then, already on morphine, and could not walk even a few steps without assistance. But one day she insisted I take her out for an Orange Julius and to see the cemetery where she was going to be buried! I did it only because she asked, but it was a kind of reality check on her health, because that short trip so completely exhausted her that she wept, realizing that she really could never do even such simple things again. We talked and prayed together, I heard her confession and brought her Holy Communion while I was there, just trying to take care of her final preparations for the Kingdom.

I left with a heavy heart, knowing that it would be the last time I would see her on earth. But we still talked on the phone from time to time. Then, in mid-May she had another crisis, and everyone, including the hospice nurses, thought she had no more than a couple days left. That is when this great and painful journey to the Cross (or rather, through the Cross to the Kingdom) began. She couldn’t eat any more (the cancer was in her pancreas, stomach, and liver), and only took liquid from a wet sponge placed in her mouth. She went in and out of consciousness, pain increasing and morphine increasing apace. She went through a kind of “dark night” of fear and the absence of the sense of God’s presence—like Jesus: “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”—through which I tried to help her, but I was never sure if she was really taking it all in. It was very painful for me to know she was going through this, but I just prayed more earnestly. I was able to talk to her a few times during those weeks, as you’ve read in previous posts. I was a kind of connection to God for her, and that is why she called for me in her agony. But I prayed that I would decrease and that Jesus would increase, so she would see only Him. I’m grateful to the Lord for giving me one last chance to talk to her on Tuesday, even though she couldn’t respond. I wanted to reassure her that Jesus was taking his sufferings into his and that she had nothing to fear, for nothing could separate her from his love. I also was able to tell her how proud of her I was for all she was courageously enduring. I will miss very much being able to talk to her, though I’m sure I still will go on doing so, even if I can’t hear any reply! I prayed for her much and with my whole heart, offering many Divine Liturgies for her. It was difficult, but I received this word in the midst of this trial: "Under this test...glorify God by your obedience in acknowledging the Gospel of Christ" (2Cor 9:13). What I was to acknowledge, I think, is the "bottom line" of the Gospel of Christ: "He who believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live" (Jn 11:25).

She was still not sleeping well on Wednesday, but that’s when I received the precious news that she was calling on the name of the Lord, even in her semi-conscious state. I’m pretty sure now that it meant that she had safely passed through the dark night, and all that was left was for the Lord, the heavenly Bridegroom, to come for his faithful little bride. In my daily reading of Scripture (presently the Gospel of Mark), during the week before Laura’s death, I was getting little hints: “He called to Him those whom He desired, and they came to Him (Mk 3); “Let us cross over to the other side…” (Mk 4); “Do not fear, only believe” (Mk 5). Then, when I was getting a bit nervous about how things were progressing, this was for me: "Peace, be still!... Have you no faith?" (Mk 6). Then back to Laura: “Take heart, it is I, have no fear” (Mk 6); “Whoever loses his life for My sake…will save it” (Mk 8).

Finally, today I read: “Take heart, rise, He is calling you…” (Mk 10). Furthermore, the Gospel at the Liturgy today was: “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest…” (Mt 11). Tears came to my eyes as I heard that, and I prayed that this would be the day that He would give her eternal rest. It was so perfect. [I'm adding this on Friday: I asked for a word from Scripture to somehow confirm that she is with the Lord. I opened the Bible, and it is as if she herself gave me the word: "The King has brought me into his chambers" (Songs 1:4). God is good.]

Before I close, I want to fulfill another one of her requests. She had wanted me to serve her funeral, though I will be unable to do so (I told her that, so she didn’t die with that expectation). But the reason was not so much that it would be I who did it, but that the people could hear the texts of the Byzantine service. I don’t know if they are going to arrange for the Byzantine priest from Seattle to come and do it (that was suggested) or if the local pastor would do it (it’s OK, he’s orthodox). But she did not want one of those funerals at which people tell funny stories and make a party out of it. (That can and should be done with family and friends—but not in church.) True to the Byzantine tradition, she wanted her funeral to be a “teaching moment” in which people would be reminded of the brevity of life and the inescapability of death and judgment. So here are a few typical texts from the service (this is definitely not a politically correct funeral but a sobering tonic):

“Come, brothers and sisters, let us bid a last farewell to her who has passed away, and also let us thank God. She is leaving her relatives and is hastening to the grave. No longer is she concerned about the vanity of the world and her human passions. Where are her relatives and friends? Behold, we are parting now. Let us pray to the Lord for her repose.

“What is our life? Indeed, it resembles a flower or smoke or the morning dew. Let us come and we will see: where is the physical beauty, where the youthfulness? All such things have faded like the grass and have disappeared. Despite all this, let us come and with tears fall down before Christ.”

The service even puts words in the mouth of the deceased:

“I am going to the Lord God, my Judge, to stand in judgment and to give an account of all my deeds. In the meantime I ask you to pray for me, that the Savior be merciful to me when He judges me. Thus we separate; indeed all is vanity… Just a while ago I talked to you and then the awful hour of death struck. Come, all who love me, and greet me for the last time.”

Finally, there are prayers of commending her soul to the Lord. There is actually much hope reflected in the service, but the texts do not flinch at the hard and final reality of death. It actually helps us grieve now, so we can rejoice in hope before too long. Here is the final prayer (personalized):

“O God of all spirits and of all flesh, You trampled death and broke the power of satan and granted life to your world. Now grant rest, O Lord, to the soul of your handmaid Laura, in a place of light, joy, and peace, where there is no pain, sorrow or mourning. As a kind and gracious God, forgive every sin committed by her in word, deed, or thought, since there is no one who exists and does not sin. You alone are without sin, your righteousness is everlasting and your word is truth. For You are the Resurrection, the Life, and the Repose of your departed handmaid, Laura, O Christ our God, and we glorify You, together with your Eternal Father and your All-holy, Good, and Life-giving Spirit, now and forever and unto ages of ages. Amen.

“In blessed repose, grant eternal rest, O Lord, to the soul of your departed handmaid Laura, and remember her forever.”

The choir then sings: “Let her memory be eternal, let her memory be eternal. With your saints, O Christ, grant her rest—and eternal memory.” At the end of the burial, the priest blesses the four sides of the grave, saying: “This grave is sealed until the Second Coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Amen, Laura’s “passion” is over. Consummatum est. I’m so glad that the moment of her soul’s liberation has come. All that remains is life everlasting. So this is not an end but a glorious beginning. I’m sure she is happier at this moment than she ever imagined she could be. We used to say to each other, on her journey of growing faith, when we had some experience that confirmed what we believe: “It’s all true!” If only I could see her now and hear her say those words to me, with her big smile! But the day will come when we all share the same glory and joy—if we live this life as a preparation for the Kingdom.

Goodbye Laura, for now. We will miss you. Please pray for us that we may one day join you in Paradise. For love never ends…