I can’t remember or not if I ever shared with you the chapter I wrote about mom that was published in Linda Eastman’s Your Personal GPS last year, but on today, I wanted to share it with you as a gift from my heart to yours ~~

“Adjusting to Major Shifts in Life” by Dr. A. Giselle Jones-Jones
[Ch. 10, pp. 119-131] in Your Personal GPS: How to Navigate Life Challenges & Road Blocks, ed. Linda Ellis Eastman

Written in Loving Memory of My Mother, Rev. Dr. Lillie Madison Jones –

“My life is my message.” Mahatma Gandhi

On October 16, 2015, I wrote a post on Facebook about a strange phenomenon that occurred on my way to work.

I saw a rainbow in the sky, yet there was no evidence of rain.  At the stop light, I quickly grabbed my phone to capture this beautiful rarity of nature before the light changed.  Then I heard the soothing voice of God speak to my spirit saying, “Daughter, my promise is to keep you before, during, and after the storm.”  I remember remarking in my post that while I didn’t know what I was about to face (although deep down I had a foreboding sense that something was stirring in the atmosphere), I was going to hold onto God’s promises.  I exclaimed to my Facebook friends, “Isn’t God faithful . . . sending messages through nature?  To God be the Glory!”  How was I to know that 10 short days later, we would be rushing my mother to the ER at High Point Regional Hospital as she had suffered a massive brain aneurism which triggered heart failure, and that one day later, October 27, 2015, at Forsyth Medical Center in Winston Salem, she would be pronounced dead at 9:31 am.

My mother, Reverend Dr. Lillie Madison Jones, though small in stature, 5’3” to be exact, had colossal presence.  Now, I wasn’t around in her teenage and early adult years (for I was born when she was 25 years old), but from what she had written about herself over the years concerning the values and lessons she had been taught and learned from her parents, her pastor, teachers, and missionaries up in the mountains of Brevard, North Carolina, she couldn’t help but leave huge footprints wherever her feet trod.  She was born to fulfill a mighty work of God on earth as a leader with a servant spirit.  As such, she was a high school English teacher and integration trailblazer back in the 60s, an administrator in the school system having risen in rank from a principal and Dean all the way to the role of Interim Superintendent over the course of 35 years, an ordained Elder and pastor, as well as a District Superintendent for the Western North Carolina Conference of the United Methodist Church, and upon her second retirement, she was a licensed and practicing life coach.  As her firstborn offspring, I stand in the lineage of this greatness.

Words will never be able to adequately express the privilege and honor it is to carry on the rich legacy of this stalwart woman, but to be completely honest, I wish she were still here.  In my own estimation, I initially felt that she left too soon, that the suddenness of her death was a little unfair.  The selfish, carnal side of me felt abandoned because we had planned to do so many things together as mother and daughter, i.e. start a boarding school for youth, create a leadership academy, build a spa and retreat center, open a bed & breakfast, and so on.  I felt that she still had so much left to do.  Trying desperately not to be bitter, I even caught myself asking God, Why her, Lord?  Why now, Lord?  I need her . . . you took her from me . . . from the world ~~

But then I heard the Lord speak softly to my spirit once again, “Daughter, my promise is to keep you before, during, and after the storm.”  Then He continued, “Take up your cross, and follow me.  It’s your time.  It’s your turn.”

From the onset of my mother’s severe illness, to her heavenly transition, to even now, some six months later, I have been on a journey not of my own choosing but one of necessity and destiny.  God has been showing me things in my spirit, through the wisdom and life of my mother, about the grieving process that I feel led to share.  While I am no expert on this topic, I know for certain that grief is real, that mourning has to be experienced in order for us to grow beyond the place where death resides, and that God has equipped us with the capacity to heal if we but trust Him.

— In my spirit, I can hear God speaking through her saying, “Pay attention to the signs.”

The rainbow wasn’t the first sign.  I remember back around the middle of December 2014 that mom prophetically predicted that the next year would bring about significant change.  Specifically, she said, “Giselle, 2015 is going to bring about a major shift.”

At the time she made this statement, it was in the context of a conversation the two of us had about several things.  For one, monumental events were to occur in 2015 in all of our families, including celebrating my oldest daughter’s 18^th birthday in March, her graduation from high school in May and going off to college in August; my middle child’s 16^th birthday in July; my husband’s 50^th birthday in September, his father’s 90^th birthday in April, his parents’ 70^th wedding anniversary celebration in August, and our own (his and my) 20^th wedding anniversary in October, a week before mom and dad’s; and of course, their (mom and dad’s) 50^th anniversary on October 23^rd.  Then add to that the birth of mom and dad’s youngest grandchild to Rick and Lynette (my brother and sister-in-law), Jairus Arthur Jones, in March; mom’s 50th Class Reunion at Bennett College (and reuniting with her college roommate Dianne) in May; and mom going back to her high school (the historic Allen High School in Asheville) to deliver a keynote address in June.

All of these events would require careful planning and proper allocation of money, time, and energy.  She was working on her calendar then as we were talking because she intended on being present at each one of them, but in retrospect, I remember her also throwing in comments about possible, impending issues with her health, and that she needed my brother and me to know what was going on so that we’d be prepared.  It wasn’t a doom and gloom conversation concerning that though; it was more matter of fact . . . an FYI, if you will, so that we wouldn’t be caught off guard.

— In my spirit, I can hear God speaking through her saying, “Celebrate Life!”

For as long as I can remember, celebrating events was always a priority in my parents’ household, to mom especially.  No matter how busy she or we all may have been, it was important for us to slow down, to etch that particular event on the Master’s timeline, and to celebrate.  My husband would often chuckle and remark that our family would just “create occasions” to throw a shindig, but as trivial, maybe, as Ashley losing her first tooth, Morgan being featured on the front row of a dance routine at her school, or little Ron scoring his first basket in rec ball, and then us going to have dinner to celebrate may have been, I was happy to be a part and I would give my pinky toe now to have those times back.  Sending cards for all occasions was also a hallmark of my parents, and it was actually that activity that consumed her on the night of October 25th that led to her demise.  She was writing out her message to go on “Thank You” cards for those who had attended the 50th wedding anniversary and who had given gifts . . . making personal phone calls and such.

On the night of the 23rd, the night of the 50^th celebration, this is the unforgettable text she sent me:

Words will never be enough to describe this evening. I go to sleep so grateful for u and Rick.

That message meant the world to me then, and because of it I can honestly say that I have no regrets or guilt about anything concerning my mother in her last days.  Again as I think on our conversation, I not only remember sending mom that email she requested from me on December 30th detailing all the dates of the events that were forthcoming for 2015, I also remember that during this year our worlds would be shaken when mom got ill . . . and I mean severely ill.

— In my spirit, I can hear God speaking through her saying, “God never sleeps, so why I am still awake?  He’s in control.”

Things flowed smoothly throughout the first half of the year; however, I noticed mom’s pace slowing a little and observed some swelling, but she kept moving about with purpose, still doing and still moving.  On Wednesday, June 24th, I recall receiving an email from her to all of us in the family giving an “update” on her health at that point, which she noted was declining, but that all would be well.  She and her doctors were on top of the issue causing the collection of fluid around her lungs, and she was informing us of her scheduled Pericardial window surgery that was to occur on June 26th.  And of course, in Lillie style, she gave us a thorough definition of the procedure (as she had done her research) to reassure us that everything was under control.

That surgery was successful and she started recuperating nicely, but I made it a point to stay near her and to help daddy more because I hadn’t seen my mom like that before. . . never that frail.  She was getting weaker physically because yet another severe malady called polycystic kidney disease was causing other complications for medicine she needed to take, but her spirit was strengthening like I’d never seen before.  Still our earth didn’t really begin rumbling until two weeks later when mom was rushed back to the ER needing to have the same surgery, and this occurred right near the end of my family’s vacation in Orlando.  We rushed back on that Saturday and drove straight to Moses Cone Hospital.  Mom’s attending nurse tried to keep me from going in the room to see her; I insisted and was shaken by what I saw.  This time the earth did quake.

Her recovery would be slower this time; the added weight to this scenario would be dialysis treatments three times a week.  To mom, she thought that dialysis was the major shift that she and we would have to face and adjust to.  Initially it was an adjustment, but with time, mom would begin to treat those appointments like a “job” – it was merely something she needed to do to sustain her life.  While at the hospital the last time though, I remember her telling me that the Lord had to be preserving her and allowing her to live because her work wasn’t finished.  There were so many lost souls out there in the world, she said, that needed to be saved.  It would be her focus for her remaining days to spread the Gospel of Jesus.

And she did just that not wasting any time.

— In my spirit, I can hear God speaking through her saying, “Be intentional.”

Concerning me, most poignantly, mom insisted that I go on the Emmaus Walk scheduled for September 17-20.  I had been too busy all of the hundreds of other times, it seemed, when she requested that I go in the past.  I always had an excuse, but this time though, she called my husband to tell him that I was going, even before I had consented, and offered to take care of the kids, if necessary.  She sent me an email on August 15^th telling me that the application and fee had already been taken care of and that I was to avail myself from 5:30 pm on that Thursday through 8:00 pm on that Sunday.

On the other side of obedience, I will admit that that Walk was a life changer for my spiritual development.  I’ve been in church all my life, yet I had never experienced the love of God in the way He was presented to me throughout the weekend in my entire life.  I not only learned of God’s agape love, but also about His prevenient, justifying and sanctifying grace.  I was shown that God has been wooing me to communion with Him since the beginning of time, and that alone compels me to love Him with my whole mind, soul, and body.  There’s nothing like the love of God!

My mother knew this would happen to me.

— In my spirit, I can hear God speaking through her saying, “Be ready.”

After that walk, I came home with a fire inside that to this day cannot be quenched.  The message I received from the Lord during the weekend started out subtly, but by the end of the weekend I heard very clearly, over and over again, “Be ready.”

Again, I didn’t know what that simple imperative referred to, yet I knew it was important.  Thus I because more acutely watchful and attentive to everything, including my husband and children, what was happening on my job, my new church responsibilities, and more pointedly, seeing to the needs of my parents.  As their anniversary planner, I had a great excuse to stay near.

I knew about every doctor’s appointment, every dose of medicine, all of her creatinine numbers, everything.  Undergoing rigorous dialysis three times a week, I don’t quite know how in the world she was able to get so much accomplished . . . she coached close to 20 clients weekly, she and daddy conducted several prayer workshops, taught bible study weekly at church, and attended events and services in support of many people all over the country, it seemed.  Endeavoring to be a good steward over her body during this time, she was careful to make sure she reserved enough time to rest after and between her dialysis treatments.  She was intentional about reaching every milestone, most especially the last milestone with her husband and having all of her loved ones and family around her.  As fate would have it, the 50th wedding anniversary was the last major event for 2015, and God allowed her to reach it.

And she was simply radiant. 

So now, as I sit here reflecting upon 2015, I recognize that as earthshattering as losing mom was on October 27, 2015, I’m not broken . . . we’re not broken.  We were wounded, but time is healing us.  The major shift is still occurring as we are all making adjustments in our lives without the physical presence of Lillie.  God promised to be with us as we make our way.

— In my spirit, I can hear God speaking through her saying, “To suffer with Christ is gain.  Live while you’re living.”

Again, getting to this place of peace has been a process.  Let’s face it.  No matter how much we prepare for it, life happens.  Authors, song writers, psalmists, artists, athletes, political and religious leaders, scientists, physicians, teachers and many others both great and small, have come up with sayings or creative expressions to capture the vicissitudes of life to keep themselves from giving up, to let the world know that with their successes and triumphs have also been failures, tests and trials, and to remind us that with joy there is also pain.  Job 14:1 declares, “Mortals, born of woman, are of few days and full of trouble.”  Even Jesus Christ, our risen Savior, says in John 10:10, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”  1 Peter 3:17-18 asserts further, “For it is better, if it is God’s will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil.  For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God. He was put to death in the body but made alive in the Spirit.”

While there are stages in life that we can anticipate, likewise there are seasons of life requiring change that we must also embrace.  As human beings, our state of mind as a result of what happens to us really depends on the situation and circumstances.  In some cases, we may merely shrug off our shoulders some of the things in life that catch us off guard.  I don’t need to go into detail about what those things may be because they are relative; what may be a big deal to some people may be minimal or trivial in other people’s eyes, and vice versa.  Whatever those incidences may be as they happen to us, we may get tripped up a little bit, as the younger generation puts it, but for the most part, we regain our bearings and keep it moving.  To stay motivated, we’ll hum to ourselves songs like, “Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, ‘cause every little thing’s gonna be all right” in our Jamaican accent, or shout and sing, “Shake, shake, shake!  Shake the devil off!”

In other cases, we may get stuck for a while.  During those dark and grim times, it’s possible for us to begin to question the why of things – ‘Why did so and so have to happen to me?’ ‘Why me, Lord?’  ‘What did I do to deserve this?’ or even ‘Where are you God?  Don’t you see me down here suffering?’  These and other responses are entirely normal.  No matter how much we question God’s awareness, or lack thereof, of our situations and circumstances, He is not caught unaware.  For Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”  For believers, in uncertain times, we lean heavily on prayer and the scriptures to give us a sense of peace that surpasses our own finite understanding in order to brace us for whatever journey or storm awaits.  For the psalmist says, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4), and the Apostle Paul says, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).  In declaring our dependence on God, we hold these (and many other) truths of the Word of God to be self-evident because it is in and through Him that we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28).  However, as believers, our reluctance to accept the changes or nuances of life as a part of God’s divine plan hinders our personal and spiritual growth.

What I’ve come to realize it that for some of us, our problem is that we have been conditioned to think of the inevitable conclusions of life, like death, as evil or only about sadness and broken heartedness.  As a result, we dread it.  We’re afraid of it.  And I’ll even admit it; as a born-again Christian, I was scared to death of my mother dying although the signs were everywhere.  I suppose in a state of denial, I tried to ignore the inevitable signs.  I believe that in my own narrowness of thinking I feared that my normal was going to change without my permission, and that I was going to be forced to adjust to a new normal, if that is even possible.

I had even experienced the stillbirth of my own son at 37 weeks on May 21, 2002, but I dealt glibly with it then.  I was more ashamed and angry with God about that loss to have really grieved the way I should have.  As I recorded in the Preface of my published monograph entitled, Through Zora’s Eyes:  Modern Insight Into a Timeless Vision, at the time of this untimely loss, I had just completed my doctoral comprehensive exams and was poised to begin writing my dissertation.  My husband and I thought we were going to hospital to have him, but he was already gone.  I became numb and didn’t even cry at the graveside service.  Although I was seemingly going through the motions of my life, for two years, internally, I was at a standstill.  I could not feel.  I had no muse.  I could not write.

But God was at work in me the whole time, and my mother was praying for me because she sensed the staleness; she knew at the time that I was an imposter fooling a whole lot of people with my smile and my masks, but not her.  Long story short, I was my mother’s minister of music then in one of her churches in Mooresville, NC, and one Sunday, I found myself off the piano bench and at the altar, repenting and crying out to God to forgive me and to remove the walls that had been erected in my spirit over the past two years.  I needed peace.  I needed a breakthrough.  Friends, not only did He loosen my shackles and set me free from that bondage, He also graced my husband and me with a healthy baby boy a few short months later, and He opened up my muse.  I was able to write my entire dissertation in only four months and graduated in May 2005.   To God be the glory for that, but those two years were tortuous.

Ten years later, I found myself at the great impasse of death again.  Though I questioned God about His timing and was even a little perturbed in the beginning, I have chosen to open myself up to “listen with my eyes and see with my ears,” as my father puts it, to everything happening around me.  There have been some really tough days, but there have also been some really good days.  I have cried tears that I thought would never stop flowing, but I’ve also had many, many reasons to laugh and dance.  Unlike the last journey, I have had my pen in hand the whole time.  As a matter of fact, on December 8, 2015, which would have been mom’s 73^rd birthday, I started a blog called “Bloominglillies” to honor her memory and to share what she and the Lord place on my heart to discuss on a weekly basis.  As hard as it is some weeks to write because of a heavy heart, as a sojourner, I write anyway.  A friend told me that in speaking from the heart like this, barriers will be broken for many.  Another dear friend shared that my mourning was like a song . . . my soul is still writing out the lyrics . . . the tune is still in progress and that the greatest and most memorable hymns and classics have come out of the writers’ pain.

Once I embraced death as a mysterious, yet beautiful act of God’s grace, I move about life differently now.  I haven’t wanted to miss any detail of this experience, any lesson my mother may have been trying to teach me before, along the way, or now, or any truth that God has been showing me before, along the way, or now.  I’ve had to trust God with my heart and to lean on His promises on this journey.

After all, that’s why He sent the rainbow.

 

In love and charity,

Giselle