our promises to her
TRANSCRIPT
Leaven Leaven
Volume 2 Issue 2 Ministry of Consolation Article 8
1-1-1992
Our Promises to Her Our Promises to Her
D'Esta Love [email protected]
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.pepperdine.edu/leaven
Part of the Biblical Studies Commons, Christianity Commons, and the Religious Thought, Theology
and Philosophy of Religion Commons
Recommended Citation Recommended Citation Love, D'Esta (1992) "Our Promises to Her," Leaven: Vol. 2 : Iss. 2 , Article 8. Available at: https://digitalcommons.pepperdine.edu/leaven/vol2/iss2/8
This Article is brought to you for free and open access by the Religion at Pepperdine Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Leaven by an authorized editor of Pepperdine Digital Commons. For more information, please contact [email protected], [email protected], [email protected].
Ministry of Con so lotion 27
Our Promisesto Her
by
D"Esta Love
She was born of Russian-German immi-grants; English was her second language. She spokeonly German until she started the first grade. Shecompleted the eighth grade before quitting school toseek employment as a waitress. In 1938 she marrieda widower with two sons, and the following year shehad a son of her own. Two years later her husbanddied, and she was a widow for 49 years before herown death. On April 23, 1990, she died in our home.Esther Marie Love was my mother-in-law; her son,Stuart, is my husband.
After her husband's death, she supportedher three sons with a social security check and take-in ironing. When her boys left home, she became adomestic worker and as she grew older lived withelderly people who needed care and companionship.On weekends she cleaned my house. It was her "gooddeed." She came to live with us when Mrs. Marksdied, the last person with whom she lived and forwhom she worked. She lived with us three yearsbefore her death.
D'Esta Love serves as Dean of Students forPepperdine University
It was not easy having her with us. Her lifehad been vastly different from mine and was markedby a loneliness I shall never know. (Outside herfamily she had few acquaintances.) As the yearspassed, she became increasingly reclusive to theextent that when she died she no longer left thehouse and rarely her room.
Her need to serve others was so deep andintegral to her identity and selfrespect that she gaveher energies to cleaning my house, doing my laun-dry, washing Stuart's car and working in the yard, sowe would not need to. Although it sounds like adream come true to have, as a friend of mine oncedescribed it, "a self-cleaning" house, it was the sourceof tension and conflict and subsequent guilt. Ourprivacy and autonomy were gone as was some oftheharmony in our household.
She was also a woman of simple, trustingfaith, but she expressed her faith differently from us.She thought we read too many books, spoke toomuch oftheology, had become too sophisticated, andshe worried about our "worldliness." But her Godwas close at hand, and I continue to marvel at that,although at the time I struggled with what I thoughtwas an "oversimplified" view of God and his provi-dence.
"When I die, 1just want to lie in my bed andgohome." "I don't need a doctor; Godis my physician.""I don't need insurance; God will take care of me."
1
Love: Our Promises to Her
Published by Pepperdine Digital Commons, 1992
28 Leaven, Spring 1992
Her prayer had been, "When I can no longer work Iwant to die." We doubted her when she said she wasdying. She had always been a strong, healthywoman. She was only 76 and did not appear sick. Itseemed she would live a long life, but she insistedshe was going to die. "It is not that simple," weprotested. But she made us promise, "Nohospitals,no doctors, no drugs, no nursing homes,just a bed athome in which to die."
She believed; we were doubtful. How can aperson just lie down and die? What of the process?What about our schedules? What was this promisewe had made? Could we keep it? As it became clearto us .she really was dying, we began to seriouslyquestion what we were doing. We asked lawyers anddoctors for advice. It is not that simple to dieanymore. Our lives suddenly became complicatedand decisions difficult. At times I felt resentmentthat she had chosen my house in which to die.
But it was in dying in my house that sherendered her greatest service to me and gave me hergreatest gift. We had always loved her, yet she was~ di~cult person to love. Her stem religion, herisolation, and her insecurities and low sense of self-worth created barriers which were erected aroundher but also around each family member. Ourrelationships were often tense and awkward and Ioften held her at arm's length. '
In the spring it became evident that she wasill and possibly dying. What of our promise to her?Should we just let her die? We decided our promiseneeded to be honored. We would care for her. I wasnot prepared for the weeks that followed, and I wasafraid. Very quickly she was confined to her bed. Onher last attempt to get to the bathroom alone shehad an accident and soiled the carpet and thebathroom. She was humiliated, and I was upset. Itwas my lunch hour, I was dressed in my professionalbest, and I did not have time for this. As I cleaned itup, she cried and in her discomfort repeatedly askedmy forgi~eness. My own discomfort was so great, Ifelt I carried the stench ofit for days. I wondered howI could manage this obligation along with the re-sponsibilities of a full-time job, and I dreaded whatlay ahead.
But it was the beginning of a new relation-ship. In the ensuing days as I bathed her andchanged her diapers, I allowed myself to touch herdying body and I found healing. As I touched her myfear and guilt and resentment washed away, and atransformation took place.
As I touched her dying body I saw her life. AsI changed her, bathed her, medicated her sores fedher and brushed her hair, I began to see the realitiesofher life ... so different from my own. This was the
In the ensuing days as Ibathed her and changedher diapers, I allowed
myself to touch her dyingbody and I found healing.
character of her life. She had spent life caring forothers. - changing beds, cleaning up accidents,emptymg bedpans, fixing meals, scrubbing floors -and it gave her joy. As I lost myselfin serving her,I came to see her more clearly. Repeatedly I thoughtof Robert Hayden's poem, "Those Wintry SundayMornings,"
What did I know?What did I know,
Of love's lonely and austere offices?
As I touched her dying body, I also sawmyself. I caught a glimpse ofmy own mortality. Wewere separated in age by only twenty-five years -only a breath. My mind rushed ahead to my owndeath, and I wished for my own bed in which to dieand my GDdto be near. For as I sat with her andcared for her, I often heard her whispering prayersand calling her savior's name. I also heard herwhisper to me, "I love you, I love you." I prayed forsuch grace and such peace when I am ready to die.
As her sons came, they also found healing inthe touch of her body. Max sat by her bed and readaloud from her Bible. (I suspect Max had not readhis Bible for years.) He faithfully rubbed lotion onher feet and kept her mouth moistened as it dried outwhen she no longer took liquids. On Sunday heshared her last communion with her while we wentto church. Karl brushed her hair and talked with herin h is sooth ing voice, and togeth er th ey rememberedthe stories ofhis childhood and wept of time gone by.Stuart's ministry was daily. He fed her, lifted her,changed her bed and spent hours with her. When hewas not in class he was at her bedside. In his lifetimehe had ministered with such grace to the families ofm~ny who have lost loved ones and to many who laydymg. Never before had his ministry in the face ofdeath been so graceful.
Her grandsons also came. She let us all loveher. More importantly, she allowed us all to serveher. To our surprise, we found comfort and healing,
2
Leaven, Vol. 2 [1992], Iss. 2, Art. 8
https://digitalcommons.pepperdine.edu/leaven/vol2/iss2/8
reconciliation and love. As I watched the gatheringof her family, I realized a bond of personal identitywith her. While she was sodifferen t from me, and weoften did not understand each other, we had thesetwo things in common: our faith and our sons. Thesewere her treasures, and they were all she had.
In the twinkling of an eye she was gone. Wehad thought it would be an eternity - this deathprocess - but it was over before we knew it. We wereable to keep our promise. It was our gift to her. Hergift to us was the joy - the peace - we found as weparticipated in the moment with her and gave our-selves to our mutual ministry of consolation.
Ministry of Consolation 29
After she died I packed her belongings. Herfew dresses, gowns and robe fit in a small box. Shehad a shoe box which contained a can opener, oneplace setting of eating utensils and a paring knife.She had a communion cup, a few toiletry items andtreasured photographs. After 76 year they were allthe material possessions she had. But she had aworn Bible which testified to her faith and sons andgrandsons who satby her bed and calledher"Mother,"a testimony to her love - treasures which do notperish. Surely she had chosen that which could notbe taken from her.
3
Love: Our Promises to Her
Published by Pepperdine Digital Commons, 1992