As she lay dying, I was watching The Lord of the Rings.  Somehow I just knew…

I started the journey from the Shire at 7:50 p.m. (Beijing Standard Time).  By 11:30 p.m. Frodo and Sam were on their way towards Mordor, Merry and Pippen were captives of the Uruk-hai, and Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were in hot pursuit.

At 3:30 a.m. Gandalf was blazing his way to Gondor on Shadowfax; meanwhile Gollum was in the process of setting up his Shelob-trap.

By 7:18 a.m. it was all over–ring destroyed, returned king upon the throne, elves & company sailing away from Middle-earth forever…

And at some point in there (somewhere along the road to the Shire, Isengard, Rohan, Gondor, or Mordor ) my grandma (Mamaw Helen) entered eternity.  From her hospice room in Kentucky, she floated out towards those grey havens–and ceased to suffer from the cancer that ultimately took her life. 

I’m still in shock I think, although I’ve known this was coming for a while.  Mamaw was diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus before we came to China a year ago.  They caught it early and the doctors treated it with chemo and were pretty successful. Some months ago now, the doctors even told her she would probably get better.  I guess things looked positive for a while, but her recovery took longer than it should have. 

Rather than a physical wound, it seems that the cancer wounded her more mentally and emotionally.  Looking at it from the outside, it’s almost like she didn’t really believe she would get better.  Like Frodo getting stabbed with the ringwraith’s sword, Mamaw Helen was inflicted with an invisible but lethal wound–one the rest of us couldn’t see.  The scar took shape in her mind and plagued the rest of her days.  This last week, her physical condition deteriorated rapidly.  Her feeding tube was blocked due to some kind of infection and (I guess) she decided she was done fighting.  At the end she couldn’t even swallow…she just prayed with eyes closed.

I’m thankful that my Mamaw Helen has set sail for that bright and beautiful land.  I’m glad she’s found her way home.  I know it sounds strange, but I can see her already on that white elvish ship.  I picture her healthy and vibrant and full of life.  I picture her with a book in hand because for me there’s no other way to picture her.  And I wish I knew the title of that last book because in life she recommended so many good ones to me. 

The wind fills the sails and pushes the ship over crystal blue waters.  I hear her musical laughter on the breeze and I can see that twinkle in her dark eyes, and I somehow know that my grandfather is waiting for her on the opposite shore.

These thoughts fill me with a joy so mixed with sadness I can barely sort them.  It hits me in unexpected waves even as I am typing

I pause often…

as I’m racked with sobs, happy thoughts, and a few unspoken regrets.  Death is confusing, but then again so is life.  I feel hope in knowing that Christ is our companion on this journey.  He travels with us in our peril and sees us through; when it is time to depart this life He boards that ship with us; and in the end He waits for us on the other shore.  Never leaves nor forsakes us. 

If anyone can forgive my Tolkien obsession, it’s my Mamaw Helen.  For that reason I wanted to share this scene between Gandalf and Pippen.  The end seems near and Pippen is questioning it:

Pippen:  "I didn’t think it would end this way.."

Gandalf:  "End?  No, the journey doesn’t end here.  Death is just another path…one that we all must take.  The grey rain curtain of this world rolls back…and all turns to silver glass.  And then you see it."

Pippen:  "What, Gandalf? See what?

Gandalf:  "White shores..and beyond.  A far green country…under a swift sunrise.

Pippen:  "Well…that isn’t so bad."

Gandalf:  "No.  No it isn’t."

As I watched this scene in the wee morning hours in my quiet Xining apartment, I wonder if my grandma was even then staring into that far, green country.  As the sun rose in that glorious place, I hope she felt a warm glow and a supernatural intuition that informed her how greatly she is loved …and missed.

Jesus, thank you for my Mamaw Helen.  Thank you for loving her, for sharing her with us, and for taking her home to be with you at the right time.  We will miss her greatly but have many great memories of her to keep us company.  Amen.