It is so good to remember.
Quarantined to my dorm room with the flu, I have had many days of doing nothing, but today...I've been remembering. In light of Rebecca's death this week I've been re-reading many of my old blog posts. Posts about uncertainty, and discomfort, and growth. Just by reading through my posts in order I was able to see God's faithfulness and his incomparable grace.
Rebecca's life exhibited His grace on a grand scale. She took a fall and her life was drastically and forever changed, but she grasped Jesus' hand tightly with the knowledge that His hand ultimately held hers, and she submitted through the pain and the change, learning to rejoice, teaching others around her to say with her, "Thank you, Lord". I was able to be part of only three months of her life, but I was blessed to see more of Jesus in those three months; blessed to know more intimately the God that Rebecca cherished, loved, and lived for. I know Him more intimately now in part thanks to the journey He's had me on since serving Rebecca in Belgium.
As Katina and I were leaving for the airport our last morning in Genval, we rushed to Rebecca's room to say our last goodbye. We entered the room in a whirlwind, and Rebecca was so pleased to see us for she thought we had had to leave earlier without saying goodbye. She was still in her bed, but was about to be lifted out for her breakfast and time with the Lord by her garden window. I remember grasping her hand so tightly and just staring into her eyes, not wanting to release my gaze. Both our eyes were welling in tears, just as mine are now.
As probably all her caregivers can attest to, we had some great times. You can read about some of them in my previous blogs if you'd like, but really, she was a servant of the King: mold-able, usable, loving, caring, insightful, gospel sharing, wise, always learning, always seeking, and always pursuing the Lord. She would have us fold the pages of her Bible in half so she could turn them with her hand, and her prayer list, full of names and previous caregivers whom she hadn't forgotten, whom she prayed for, marked her spot. Sometimes she would call one of us in for a refill of tea, and she would share a particular verse that she was studying along with what Jesus was teaching her that morning.
I loved her laugh, her smile, her knowing wink, her sweet kisses on my cheek, and her hilarious sense of humor. I remember one night, as she was brushing her teeth and I held her spit cup underneath her chin, she paused, smirked, looked slyly at me, resumed brushing and spit, then declared to me in a joking voice, "the devil told me to spit at you, but I resisted him". And her kisses usually came with the sweet message that Jesus had told her I needed a kiss.
...So many memories.
What a legacy.
Since they're seven hours ahead of us, it's the early morning of the day of her funeral. I know it will be blessed. There are so many people whom she has touched. So many she has loved. I pray that in her death, He is glorified as He was in her life, and that Christ's message will be amplified. Please pray for her family, for her husband Paul, for her caregivers past and present, for the nurses who came daily, and that the city of Genval would erupt with the message of the gospel this day.
She is thrilled to be with her Savior. She is free. She endures no more pain. She can walk! She can lift her arms. What a beautiful gospel we have. Full of hope and peace. What a thrill it must be to see Jesus' face!
If you were a caregiver or friend, and you happen to read this, feel free to share any of your favorite stories of Rebecca. I'd love to hear them.
