Maybe it's the winter rain turning my thoughts more end-of-life, but a dying man can also help it along. A man at our church has been diagnosed w/ Stage IV pancreatic cancer w/ only a few months left to him. I was trying to figure out if I would prefer having the knowledge of my journeys end ahead of time, filled w/ pain but mental clarity or just cut off w/ no warning.
It's not up to me & I don't think I would be doing anything different if I did know, maybe try to get a new wife for Mike, lol. But I think if I had my druthers I'd choose his situation. He's getting a chance to reconcile w/ & see his children/grandchildren. Thankfully I've not got any reconciliations to make but I'm glad for him.
Morbid as it sounds (maybe I've read too many Victorian novels)I believe I'd like the chance to feel this robe of flesh drop off by degrees to feel...however it feels. Speaking of novels I cannot recommend enough, "The Death of Ivan Ilyich" by Tolstoy. It is short, not more than 150 pages I think & it is kind of mind bending in it's bleakness & ability to get you mentally close to the feeling of death. It's been recurring in my thoughts this week as well & is as well a fascinating glimpse into what death looks like at home as opposed to the hospital.
Then I thought, perhaps I am in the same situation & ought to take a more serious tact. Here I am, carrying a baby. Women 200 years ago were making out their wills
when they discovered impending motherhood. Anything could happen & will happen according to Plan. I've read up on some scientific literature since Charlotte's birth & am wiser in birth safety than before; it's not quite as rosy. I'm resting comfortably in the fear of the LORD being the beginning of wisdom & take great comfort in death, like salvation ultimately being out of my hands.
This is not the cover of the copy I read but here lies Ivan languishing.