How are we helping loved ones go home to Jesus?

We are all on our journey home to heaven. I find it poetic (and hopefully accurate) when I think about death, that I think about going home. I can’t imagine it, or even begin to fathom what it might be like, but I know it exists and the when this life ends, another one begins.

Death is a part of life. We are not here forever and I wouldn’t want to be. The real question is how are we spending the time we have and how are we helping others on their journey?

When I was young, I did not spend much time thinking about this. I remember attending funerals as child, and I’m not sure I really understood what comes next. There are moments when I don’t understand it now. What I do know is that my life is a mere blip on the face of the Earth and I should make the most of the time I have and with those I love.

Now, as I sit with those who have lost loved ones, I listen to how they are described by the people that love them. People are described as “one of a kind, a light in this world, a prankster, a kind soul, someone who gave the best hugs, a joy to be around”. I read about their life, wish I knew more stories, and think about the people who show up to honor this person and simply be with the family.

What has really crossed my mind recently is how we help them in the final days. In the past two months, there have been two very different examples of how to finish the journey- both were my neighbors.

I can’t say that one was very peaceful. The people surrounding him were not peaceful or kind. They spent time figuring out how to divide his stuff, not being with him in his final days. I did not spend time talking with them, they were not interested in sharing stories. If we had talked, I think we would have described him very differently. To me, he was as good hearted man, willing to help his neighbors.

My other neighbor passed as peacefully as can be. His wish was to be at home, and he was. His house was filled with family, best friends, and neighbors. Goodbyes and prayers were said, stories, laughter, meals, and toasts were shared. When I heard the news and opened my door to go be with the family, the wind chimes across the street sounded like church bells welcoming him home. I knew he was home.

Sending off our loved ones to heaven is a part of life. It not easy, or for the faint of heart. Strength is needed on all sides- the strength to endure what is coming and the strength to tell them it’s ok to go and not hold them here.

I haven’t seen heaven. I’ve read books about people that have. What I do know is that time is short. Let’s spend our time with people that matter to us, celebrating life’s joys, and being with them in the sorrows, after all, who else is helping us get to heaven?