The Journey

It was to be just a minor diagnostic procedure, precautionary really. Upon awakening from the anesthesia cancer would be ruled out as a diagnosis and Katie’s interesting but so far uneventful life would go on as usual. At least, that’s what she thought.

First came the IV. Half interested, Katie gazed at the fluid as it slowly began to flow through the thin clear tube into the needle in her vein. For a moment it was routine. Then like an explosion it hit. Katie felt all bodily feeling leave, along with the onset of a sudden paralysis. She could think acutely, but that was all. No struggle for air could occur, no scream for help, no ability to open her eyes, no hand movement to reach for help. Katie was entombed inside her own body with no awareness of the outside world.

Then the thoughts came: a last birthday party where everyone celebrated her sixty-fifth birthday; the black balloons and “over the hill” cards; the absence of a close friend who had died of a long debilitating disease; and a young grandchild, so eager to face life with all the assurance of youth. After all, to the young—and Katie still considered herself young—life was forever, wasn’t it? Yet right now, on that operating table, life felt very tenuous indeed.

Sixty hadn’t really seemed all that old, not today with a longer life expectancy. Yet now eminent death consumed Katie’s thinking far more than worrying about the simple aging process. “I don’t want to die now,” she prayed. Even a few years seemed a gift!

Where had all those years gone to, she reflected. The journey had been so populated with friends and activities that she had scarcely noticed the passage of time. Life was forever, and she and her friends seemed destined never to die. For many years the same people sat at the table for the annual holiday meals. Other people’s friends had heart attacks and got cancer. Other people died.

But this year had produced an exception: a close friend had died. Two more had developed cancer. And now this—to her, Katie, who had felt like she would live forever. Yet, as she thought back, the warnings had been there—the letter from Social Security and Medicare had started the process of alert. Yet perhaps the seemingly premature invitation to join the AARP had been the first red alert!

Katie’s thoughts drifted on as the agony of wishing for air became greater. By this time what seemed real went beyond life span and friends. For Katie, only God Himself was in that operating room. For all she cared, even if everyone else had walked out of the room it wouldn’t have mattered as long as God stayed.

“What was life all about?” she mused. Did length really matter? Of course, accepting Christ as Saviour ensured a place in Heaven. That was most important. But if that was really true, why did even Christians fight so hard to stay young, or at least fight so hard to stay on this earth for a few more months or years? Why fight death if death meant being with Christ in Heaven?

Then a verse floated through her mind from Sunday school days, something about building in things that last, like gold, silver, and precious stones instead of things which burn up, like wood, hay, and stubble. Katie had done some things with eternal value. She had taught Sunday school, visited some sick people, and had tried to keep a regular time for prayer and Bible study. Unlike the years of her youth when she had pleased herself only, increasingly she had been doing things which would last. In youth along with others her age she had only had future hopes and dreams. But now she had at least a small deposit in her heavenly savings account.

In youth, too, she reflected, there had been so many dangers and temptations which could have led away from any spiritual inheritance or even life itself. Drugs, sex, the love of money were just a few. Physical dangers like disease and car accidents and even death itself had always been possibilities. But Katie had avoided these pitfalls for the most part for at least sixty-five years of the journey. Nothing, however, would really be safe until the journey ended in that transition to Heaven. Was that what this experience was really all about? The grand ending?

“Yes,” Katie concluded, age did have some advantage over youth which transcended the liabilities of increased physical ailments, diminished income for some, and the loss of friends to death. Youth had its health and dreams, and future plans. But age had its granaries full; age had the potential for the reward of a life well lived. On a more fundamental level, age had survived the dangers of the journey. Death at sixty-five would still be a full life. Any good accomplished would not be taken away. Any pitfall avoided would be permanently placed in the safety of the past.

At about this time Katie’s lungs, which by now had felt like they were bursting for air, received a small sliver of oxygen. Within seconds Katie could move and talk and breathe again. The operating room looked the same. While the staff was somewhat shaken by what had just occurred, the surgeon had scrubbed and was ready to operate. The anesthesiologist was ready once again to put Katie out. Her reaction to the IV had been unexpected, but now everyone but Katie wanted to go forward with the procedure.

Reluctantly, Katie complied. But as she drifted out once again she realized that her life had been changed. Growing old was not a liability. It was a gift. It was a gift of time during which one could consciously live in the light of eternity. It was a second chance for Katie to become all God wanted her to be and to do what remained of her specific ordained task on this earth. For Katie growing old had become her opportunity to finish well.

— Elizabeth R. Skoglund

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“Thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God hath led thee these forty years.” — Deuteronomy 8:2.

“THE KEYNOTE of this chapter is ‘Remember!’ Faith begins without certain evidence of an external and positive kind, but as life advances, one day after another adds the weight of its indisputable testimony. If we step out on the supposition that there is an eternal and spiritual world enwrapping us on all sides, we shall come to so clear and distinct an assurance of it, that it would be easier to doubt our existence. It is a good thing to look back and see the way; it is as certain as possible that the thread of Divine purpose is stringing together the many-coloured links of our life.

“Notice the alliteration of Deuteronomy 8:15, Deuteronomy 8:16. ‘Who led thee’; ‘Who fed thee.’ Where God leads, He feeds! Look back on the past, and see that just as sure as the guidance of God, has been His care. There is no lack to those who allow Him to lead them in His own paths.

“Look back on the past!—Its sins and backslidings—leave them behind for ever, and rise to newness of life. Its discipline—intended to chasten and strengthen us. Its trials—meant to reveal God's power to deliver in the hour of trouble that we may glorify Him. The terrible wilderness of loneliness, the fiery serpents of temptation, the manna which has never failed to fall, the water which the Rock has ever yielded. Deuteronomy 8:17-18 teach us the lesson of humility. If, for some reason, you have been put into a position of wealth, honour, or influence, do not be proud, or think that your talents or abilities are to receive the praise. Thank God, and remember that it is He who gives the power to get wealth or honour, and He does it with a very definite purpose! Will you not pledge yourself to serve and worship Him? As you climb the crest of the hill, and begin to descend into the plain, not knowing what lies before, veiled in the mist, fear not, tighten your girdle, put your hand in His, and walk with Him to be His instrument to bless the world of men.”

— F. B. Meyer, Our Daily Walk, September 16