Now We Are Free | Letters to a Samuel Generation

by Rachel Starr Thomson
written December 22, 2002

It is 8:04 p.m., three days before Christmas. I am writing now because something very important has just happened.

My grandmother is free.

Before the clock struck eight tonight, her heart stopped beating. She has gone away from us.

It was not so long ago that she told me what she most looked forward to. "Do you know what the best thing about heaven is going to be?" she asked me. "It's not that I'll be with my loved ones again... though that will be wonderful. It's not the streets of gold or the angels or anything else like that... it's Him. It will be so wonderful to see Him. To be with Him. To talk with Him. Can you imagine it?"

Yes, Grandma, I can imagine it... but I know that my imagination does not begin to describe what you are feeling now. Since you were seventeen you have lived in His service. His truth has lit your way. His love has filled your heart and flowed over to touch my life, and the lives of so many. So many.

And now you see Him.

I don't know what the obituary will say. "Lois Thomson died at the age of seventy-three, in the city of Windsor, Ontario, where she spent the last forty some years of her life. She leaves behind a mother, a sister, a husband, eight children, seven children-in-law, and forty-seven grandchildren. She will be sorely missed."

True enough, but it doesn't begin to say what must be said. It doesn't say what the angels are saying, but their words have an echo in my own heart.

Lois Thomson went to the place of her heart's desire today.

She has long seen through a glass, darkly, but now she sees clearly.

She was sown in corruption; she is raised incorruptible.

Praise Him.

She was sown in dishonour; she is raised in glory.

Give praise to the Lord of Life.

She was sown in weakness; she is raised in power.

Praise Him, for His mercy endureth forever.

Her mortality is swallowed up in life! Death is swallowed up in victory!

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?

God has at last become her all in all.

.

She has gone into the holy of holies, and she need never come back into the dirt and darkness of this world again.

Truly, she is free.

My grandmother was a remarkable woman. Her life touched more people than can be counted. She wasn't perfect. Of course not. She was human just like you and me. And she was beginning to tire of life. Oh, she still had a lot to live for, but it wasn't easy anymore. She was often tired and discouraged. I am crying as I write this, but I am grieving for myself, not for her.

How can I?

She has answered the call of her beloved.

"The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice.

"My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle dove is heard in our land;

"The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

"O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

"Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes.

"My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains."

This world was not cruel to my grandmother. She had many people to love her, and the light of God shone in her life. But a deeper longing was within her still, and she did not fear death because of it. She knew there was more to come for her.

C.S. Lewis once wrote these words: "Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water... If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."

Why should I mourn for this one whom I love? She is leaping and skipping upon the mountains. She has found the desire of her heart. She has discovered the meaning of the words, "It is finished."

Some might say that it's a terrible thing to lose a loved one just before Christmas, but I am glad it happened now. It brings the miracle of Christmas all the closer. Some two thousand years ago, a man was born who gave hope substance and made faith worth having. The Son of God took a human name, lived a human life, and died a human death. Why?

So that my grandma could be free today. And so that I could cry and still write these words. He rose from the dead so that we could, too. Without Jesus, all hope is vain and all joy is empty. But because He lived, died, and lives again, every one of us can look death in the face and say, "I do not fear you. Nor can you truly take anything away from me. Everything I have is hidden in Him who does not die."

My grandmother has gone to be with him, which means that she is not so very far away from me. He is as close as a prayer, as close as the air that hangs around me. That is why love transcends death, because we can't ever be really seperated. He has seen to that.

This Christmas, my grandmother's thoughts and words and eyes are full of Him, only Him. I pray that all of those who read these words would also fill their souls with Him, with His nearness and His love. As Grandma lay dying this past week, a prayer continually filled my heart: "Father, glorify Thy name." He has.

I love you, Grandma. Thank you for teaching me this one last lesson.

My dear friend Janet says that for Christians, there is no such thing as good-bye, only see you later. So.

I'll see you later.