Volume 29, No.19
May 9, 2004
Lessons From Room 538
We often know someone is a child of God by how they live. I knew Fran
Stockdale was a child of God by how she died.
For four agonizing weeks, bone cancer wrought its final ravages on her frail,
wasted frame. The merciless disease left Fran gaunt and sunken, like the AIDS
victims I’d seen in Africa. It was almost more than we could bear to see the
sheer torture in anxious eyes that anchored every wince and grimace as the
massive doses of morphine set off incessant twitching of her arms and legs.
Even when we looked away, we could hear her shallow respiration, each breath
chased by a whimper or groan that echoed in our hearts. It would’ve been much
easier for the rest of us had Fran been able to suffer in silence, like she did
for a year before. Instead, her anguish near the end brought guilt and regret
as we all questioned what we could’ve, should’ve done so much earlier.
But there was no doubt or second-guessing when it came to Fran’s faith. “It’s
Tuesday,” she told me. “I want to be with Jesus today. I want him to take my
hand and hold me close.” But Tuesday came and went, dragging behind it another
week of agony and unfulfilled anticipation. “Why is God making me wait? Why
won’t He take me?” she asked through the pain. I had no answers, just anger and
resentment toward a Father who seemed absent or unconcerned. I practically spat
out the words. “Why won’t you just end it?”
God felt no need to explain himself to me. Fran lingered days more before
slipping seamlessly into an eternity that makes the last month as nothing. Many
of my questions remain but I learned some powerful lessons in Room 538,
beginning with the strength and comfort that come with an unwavering faith in
the “Where” of our destination, even when we don’t know the “When.” Through
everything, Fran had an unflinching faith that Jesus would, as she pictured it,
walk her arm-in-arm down the grassy hill, take her overtop the River of Life and
escort her proudly into the City of God.
While she was waiting, Fran never complained. She touched everyone around
her with her faith, strength, and gentle acceptance of what was to be. The
wonderful nurses she called “my angels” responded with a passionate compassion
that showed me how even near-strangers can be brought together by human need and
courage. People do still care, deeply.
I’m convinced others responded to Fran that way because she accepted them,
and herself, without pretense or harsh judgment, thanks to a profound, gut-level
gratitude for God’s grace. She told me there was much in her life she wasn’t
proud of. But unlike so many who take out their old sins periodically and sort
through them with pride and nostalgia like some kind of perverse stamp
collection, she keenly felt the forgiveness of God. A forgiveness that freed her
from the past as soon as she found genuine love and acceptance in our church
family.
“I love everyone in that group,” she told me. I really needed that church to
help me come back to God. I wanted him to come to me. But I knew I had to come
to him and ask him to forgive all my sins.” As I tried to explain, the Lord had
come to her first, and He did that by sending her to us, not just for her
benefit, but for ours.
Yet the greatest lesson from Fran’s last, long, agonizing ordeal was the
circle of life I saw when she lay beside baby Paul, her grandchild in everything
but name. At the beginning and end, all either of them wanted was the true
essence of existence. Not the things we spend so much of our time chasing, but
the essentials: rest, comforting, and the constant reassuring caress of those
who love us. Fran said of Paul, “He’s a beautiful baby and he smiles every time
he sees me. His whole face lights up like a lantern with the light that will
light the world.” May it be so.
At his Dedication Service this weekend, we gave Paul back to God. In her
Memorial Service this afternoon, we do the same with Fran, with many thanks for
letting us share her a while.
By Rick Gamble, published in Cross Current, the weekly newsletter of the
Followers of Christ congregation in Brantford, Ontario, Canada. Reprint at will
in not-for-profit publications. To subscribe, contact
sgamble@bfree.on.ca