Mail at Death’s Door by Michelle Joy Teigrob

 

To Me on My Final Day,

Well, I guess this is it. You’re about to become the shadow, the mist, the flower, that vanishes from earth forever. Of course, we both know this also means you’re stepping into something more glorious than you could ever imagine. (More on that in another letter).

For this missive, I want to talk about your time on earth.

Oh, how I yearn to know that you are finishing well. How my heart strains with the hope that that, as you heave your final breath, your spirit rests fully at peace.

Finish well, my dear, older self. Whether that final day occurs one day from now, one month, or one year, cross the finish line with your spiritual chin up, shoulders back, arms pumping.

I know middle age shook you harder than you expected. For a time, you allowed discouragement and even some despair to rattle your spirit into nearly giving up in bitterness. As heartache and trouble slammed into your middle years, you wondered why God had ever let you live.

Why did you and your twin survive a very difficult birth, when the doctor believed both of you could likely not make it? Why, at 21 years of age, could you walk away with only minor injuries from the same car crash that took your twin to heaven much too early? So very often your spirit cried out these questions.

I suspect, even on your last day on earth, you don’t hold the complete answer to these wonderings. They are the sorts of anguished musings that I truly believe can only be fully and satisfactorily responded to in heaven.

But, I hope, oh, I pray so hard, that between the time that I pen this letter and the day you step into eternity, you found a way to exist with the tension of not knowing those answers while also living every day as faithfully and fully as God gave you strength.

I pray you discovered and held onto whatever it was you needed to remain faithful – faithful to God, faithful to your family, and faithful to your life’s purpose, including the call you sensed on your heart to write.

I know that in mid-life you drank fresh courage and inspiration from learning about the lives of writers who embarked on their writing ministries in the latter half of their existence. The story of Hildegard of Bingen especially nourished your motivation. Born in 1098, Hildegard started writing for publication in middle age. Despite physical sickness and an acute sense of her own inadequacies, she went on to pen visionary books, two volumes on natural medicine, 77 pieces of music, and more than 400 letter corresponding with popes, emperors, and other leading figures of her day. (The fact that she was the youngest of ten children, like you, sparked a special sense of connection with her, despite the centuries between you).

“Never, never, never give up.” Long before the days of social media posts, our twin Maria had discovered this line famously spoken by Winston Churchill during the black days of World War II. I remember seeing it scribbled in one of her notebooks. Decades later, our son Micah, drawn to the same powerful line, copied it out on a card and taped it to his wall. You always loved to collect snippets of sayings that ignited your spirit – and quotes loved by people you loved gave you extra fire.

I pray that to your final day, you never stopped drawing courage, hope, and strength from stories and sayings.

More than anything, I pray so earnestly that you never ever gave up the practice you started as a young woman of calling out to the Giver of Life, of always seeking to know him more, and of depending on him fully and completely for your every need.

Dear, older self on your last day on earth, as the windows of heaven begin to part, my whole being yearns to know that you are hearing these words: “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:23, ESV).

Please, for my sake, for the sake of all who ever loved you -- those who have gone before, those still alive, and the generations of the future -- but, most of all, for the sake of Jesus, your Saviour and Lord – finish well.

Michelle Joy Teigrob lives with her family in Peterborough, Ontario. Her book on grief, Joyfully Star-mapping Through Life's Dung Piles, is now available at michellejoybooks.ca.