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On the victory side

Without her faith in Christ, MARY MILLS doubts she could have coped with her mother’s death

The event I have dreaded all my life has happened – I’ve lost my Mum.

After a long, painful battle since she broke her hip last September, she has surrendered, at the age of 89. It is hard to take in, and I am in a tangle of mixed emotions. Yet “the cloud I so much dreaded”, to mis-quote an old hymn, has indeed been “big with mercy,” and there have been many blessings in the midst of it all.

When my maternal grandmother died, I was 11 and the event seemed shrouded in mystery. As children, we were not permitted to attend her funeral. I can remember being told that “Aunty Gwen” (my Mum, her daughter) had cried during the service. Since I had never seen my Mum cry, I felt the loss of one’s mother must prove a mega, mega event.

When the time came for my own Mum’s farewell, the funeral proved to be a time for experiencing the sustaining power of the Holy Spirit in a very wonderful way. I was dry-eyed and in control. I had always imagined I would be a sobbing heap, but it was not so.

Surrounded by loving, supportive family and friends, it was almost a happy event – sweet sorrow – and my 11-year-old grandson assumed the role of caring for me which really made my day – marking for him, too, a significant stride on the passage from child to young man.

There was one single, supreme event which has eased Mum’s passing, for which I will be eternally grateful, and I share it in the hope that others may witness how the Lord does indeed “carry us” as it says in the famous Footprints poem, when we could/should be at our lowest.

On February 27 I was visiting Mum in hospital, as I had done each day. This in itself was a miracle as I was supposed to be supply teaching that afternoon.

The school had decided that they wanted someone for the whole day, and as I had only been available for the afternoon, the agency cancelled my booking. I was pleased, as it meant I could visit Mum earlier and hopefully watch the enthronement ceremony of the new Archbishop of Canterbury with her on TV. Mum loved big events, and we usually enjoyed them together.

With the help of a Muslim girl who was visiting her mother in the opposite bed to Mum’s, we managed to find the channel on the ward TV. No, no-one on the ward objected to us having it on. The Muslim girl even commented “I think he’s a very good man – very open-minded! He’s a very good choice.”

Mum was very weak, but brighter than she had been for a while, following a blood transfusion a couple of days previously. Her sight had gone, but she could hear the service, and when it came to the age-old hymns, she was trying to join in, weakly mouthing the words. One of the final ones was Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah, to the rousing tune of Cwm Rhondda. The words were particularly, poignantly appropriate for Mum:

“When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside.
Death of Death, and Hell’s destruction,
Land me safe on Canaan’s side!”

I turned to her and said: “Oh Mum, wouldn’t it be just great to land on Canaan’s side?!” and she replied, very weakly: “Yes.”

That night she slipped away home.

Yes, there were tears then, and deep, deep sobs. I now know what it means to feel “gutted” and “beside one’s self”. She was a very dear, much-loved Mum, always there for all of us, on our side whether we were in the right or wrong. Both partner-less, she and I had been each other’s very close companions for the 12 years since my father died. Precious years, fond memories. I will miss her tremendously.

A woman of very little material substance, Mum’s liberating attitude of heart and mind is a wonderful legacy. “You can’t take it with you when you go” was one of her oft-repeated phrases. A simple truth. But what treasure she has left us all.

On 18 March she would have been 90, and we still met together to celebrate her birthday, and had a wonderful time of sharing Mum. She would have loved that ...

I can’t press the “validate” button for “Delete the entry ‘Mum’” on my mobile phone yet. Yesterday I visited the spot where we buried her ashes and I rather wished I hadn’t. The flowers were fading and it somehow seemed cold and forlorn and I had to remind myself quickly that she wasn’t “there” anyway. She really IS on Canaan’s side. Hallelujah!

If I didn’t have this assurance, I don’t know how I would cope. Non-believers may think our Christian hope and certainty of eternal life in Heaven is just a crutch – comforting ourselves with lies. But I have experienced in Mum’s death the peace that passes understanding – the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection that only God can give. It is a priceless blessing – the reward of faith.

So – I am entering my post-mum era, with all that holds for me. There will be other mums to support and visit, of that I am quite sure. One of the many beautiful messages of love and support on the cards and letters I received, said:

“For my sake turn again to life and smile,
Nerving thy heart and trembling hand to do
Something to comfort other hearts than thine.
Complete these dear unfinished tasks of mine,
And I, perchance, may therein comfort you.”
(Anon)

I am sure I will prove this to be true.

On Mum’s funeral sheet we printed the caption, under her photo – “A good mother is a blessing for ever.”

If you still have yours, let her know how much you love and appreciate her while you still have the opportunity.

Mary Mills is a freelance writer based in Derby

© Christian Family Network
is run by CPO, supported by
Care for the Family, Marriage Resource, Positive Parenting,
Care, Women Alive, Christian Herald and many others.


		On the victory side Without her faith in Christ, MARY MILLS doubts she could have coped with her mother’s death The event I have dreaded all my life has happened – I’ve lost my Mum. After a long, painful battle since she broke her hip last September, she has surrendered, at the age of 89. It is hard to take in, and I am in a tangle of mixed emotions. Yet “the cloud I so much dreaded”, to mis-quote an old hymn, has indeed been “big with mercy,” and there have been many blessings in the midst of it all. When my maternal grandmother died, I was 11 and the event seemed shrouded in mystery. As children, we were not permitted to attend her funeral. I can remember being told that “Aunty Gwen” (my Mum, her daughter) had cried during the service. Since I had never seen my Mum cry, I felt the loss of one’s mother must prove a mega, mega event. When the time came for my own Mum’s farewell, the funeral proved to be a time for experiencing the sustaining power of the Holy Spirit in a very wonderful way. I was dry-eyed and in control. I had always imagined I would be a sobbing heap, but it was not so. Surrounded by loving, supportive family and friends, it was almost a happy event – sweet sorrow – and my 11-year-old grandson assumed the role of caring for me which really made my day – marking for him, too, a significant stride on the passage from child to young man. There was one single, supreme event which has eased Mum’s passing, for which I will be eternally grateful, and I share it in the hope that others may witness how the Lord does indeed “carry us” as it says in the famous Footprints poem, when we could/should be at our lowest. On February 27 I was visiting Mum in hospital, as I had done each day. This in itself was a miracle as I was supposed to be supply teaching that afternoon. The school had decided that they wanted someone for the whole day, and as I had only been available for the afternoon, the agency cancelled my booking. I was pleased, as it meant I could visit Mum earlier and hopefully watch the enthronement ceremony of the new Archbishop of Canterbury with her on TV. Mum loved big events, and we usually enjoyed them together. With the help of a Muslim girl who was visiting her mother in the opposite bed to Mum’s, we managed to find the channel on the ward TV. No, no-one on the ward objected to us having it on. The Muslim girl even commented “I think he’s a very good man – very open-minded! He’s a very good choice.” Mum was very weak, but brighter than she had been for a while, following a blood transfusion a couple of days previously. Her sight had gone, but she could hear the service, and when it came to the age-old hymns, she was trying to join in, weakly mouthing the words. One of the final ones was Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah, to the rousing tune of Cwm Rhondda. The words were particularly, poignantly appropriate for Mum: “When I tread the verge of Jordan, Bid my anxious fears subside. Death of Death, and Hell’s destruction, Land me safe on Canaan’s side!” I turned to her and said: “Oh Mum, wouldn’t it be just great to land on Canaan’s side?!” and she replied, very weakly: “Yes.” That night she slipped away home. Yes, there were tears then, and deep, deep sobs. I now know what it means to feel “gutted” and “beside one’s self”. She was a very dear, much-loved Mum, always there for all of us, on our side whether we were in the right or wrong. Both partner-less, she and I had been each other’s very close companions for the 12 years since my father died. Precious years, fond memories. I will miss her tremendously. A woman of very little material substance, Mum’s liberating attitude of heart and mind is a wonderful legacy. “You can’t take it with you when you go” was one of her oft-repeated phrases. A simple truth. But what treasure she has left us all. On 18 March she would have been 90, and we still met together to celebrate her birthday, and had a wonderful time of sharing Mum. She would have loved that ... I can’t press the “validate” button for “Delete the entry ‘Mum’” on my mobile phone yet. Yesterday I visited the spot where we buried her ashes and I rather wished I hadn’t. The flowers were fading and it somehow seemed cold and forlorn and I had to remind myself quickly that she wasn’t “there” anyway. She really IS on Canaan’s side. Hallelujah! If I didn’t have this assurance, I don’t know how I would cope. Non-believers may think our Christian hope and certainty of eternal life in Heaven is just a crutch – comforting ourselves with lies. But I have experienced in Mum’s death the peace that passes understanding – the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection that only God can give. It is a priceless blessing – the reward of faith. So – I am entering my post-mum era, with all that holds for me. There will be other mums to support and visit, of that I am quite sure. One of the many beautiful messages of love and support on the cards and letters I received, said: “For my sake turn again to life and smile, Nerving thy heart and trembling hand to do Something to comfort other hearts than thine. Complete these dear unfinished tasks of mine, And I, perchance, may therein comfort you.” (Anon) I am sure I will prove this to be true. On Mum’s funeral sheet we printed the caption, under her photo – “A good mother is a blessing for ever.” If you still have yours, let her know how much you love and appreciate her while you still have the opportunity. Mary Mills is a freelance writer based in Derby © Christian Family Network is run by CPO, supported by Care for the Family, Marriage Resource, Positive Parenting, Care, Women Alive, Christian Herald and many others.