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Until 1989, I had a morbid fear of death. I couldn’t go to the bedsides of friends who were dying. I never went to a funeral unless asked to be a pallbearer. I am not sure where this fear came from but a psychiatrist may have shed some light on it. My five year old sister died of blood poisoning just before I was born. Mother was so distraught she almost lost me. The doctor told Dad not to take her back to the hospital in my sister’s final days and not to take her to the funeral or she would likely miscarry. Later, a psychiatrist told me, “It is likely that your fear of death came from that experience. There is much evidence that unborn children hear and understand much of what is happening, especially when the mother’s emotions are extreme.” Suddenly, it seemed, some of my fear of death dissipated. It reminded me of Jesus saying, “The truth will set you free.” Sometimes just knowing a fact or a truth can help us turn loose of some old cockleburs that have pricked our minds for years. I think two things healed my irrational fear of death. First, was when I had to stand by and watch my own mother die. I mean, when your watch your mother die, what worse can death do to you? I had more spiritual resources than I knew I had. At times I felt the Presence like someone steadying me in the middle of a strong wind storm. . The second thing that helped me was the healing power of people who loved us and who came to share our time of travail. A young Wesleyan minister came one day and prayed one of the most beautiful prayers I have ever heard. I could see mother relax a little and breathe easier. Total strangers would hear my mother was dying and come by for a prayer or a hug. I discovered the healing power of simple caring, simple presence – people being there when you need them. While it is true I was healed of the fear of death, the suffering my dear mother experienced hung over me like a dark cloud for a year. I had nightmares in which I re-lived what she had gone through. One night I prayed, “God, I cannot stand to keep seeing my precious mother in such pain. Please find a way to let me know she is alright. A way I will know is directly from You.” That night I had the clearest dream of my life. In it, I was working in a wheat field and saw Dad waiting for me near my car. By this time, he had died, too. I walked to the car and he got into the back seat like he would have done if mother was riding in the front seat with me. We arrived at the old home place and mother materialized in her favorite pink dress right before our eyes. Dad took her hand and they walked up the sidewalk to the front porch. There they embraced, kissed and slowly disappeared. The dream was so real and powerful I awoke with joy and the assurance I needed. We need to use dreams more to get spiritual messages and insight. Get your concordance, go to “dreams,” and see how often dreams are used in the Bible. I have a half dozen dream interpretation books and one of them is the Bible itself. My heart is often broken when I go to people who are dying or whose dear ones have died. But the blessings received from being there for them and with them, and seeing the same miracles of healing I experienced, far outweigh the hurt. What a sweet ministry. And one we can all fulfill just by our loving presence.
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