Cleaning Closets

Something I found out while visiting patients and loved ones in my own family was that, at a point, they remove their masks, if they've been wearing one. They were less interested in putting on a face with a huge smile if they didn't feel like it.  Or if they were frightened they became less interested in trying to hide that from me as well. They became more 'real' with me without concern if I would still care about them or think less of them. The honesty was tangible, bold but not brassy.

Fred wasn't different in this respect.  As he was drawing nearer to his "passing over" (his words), he would attempt to sit up straighter in his hospital bed and command my attention.

"Say Becki, while you are working on my tired ole flesh I want to ask you something."

"Sure Fred, what's up?" I asked while trying to gently assess his 'wearing thin' skin.  I glanced his direction to see his expression. Smiling, but also with a note of seriousness, he continued, "Well, I was wondering if you ever woke up in the morning and felt bad about anything you did the day before that you wished you hadn't done.

"You know like, 'I wish I hadn't eaten those last three pieces of chocolate cake before bedtime. Or I wish I hadn't said that stupid remark to my sister when she asked me if I wanted to try some of her homemade soup with both of us knowing she can't cook!"

"Or 'I wish I could undo some of the pain I caused others in my lifetime...?"

I stopped what I was doing. I sat down next to his bed on the little gingham covered rocker his sister had put there for visitors.  Then I took one of his frail, thin hands and held it.

"Fred, there is a boatload of regrets I've spoken many mornings in my life."

"Well, Becki, it's just that lying here in this bed there are some nights I try to tell God I'm sorry. I wouldn't know how to find all the people I've offended in one way or another. But last night was a little different," he said.

"I went to sleep and I dreamed a dream that was as real as us talking right here and now.  I was asking Jesus to forgive me and then there he was.

"He said that he'd heard me and that he was aware of me saying I had so many skeletons in my closet, it must resemble a graveyard. He said, 'Fred, come look. I cleaned your closet.  You can rest now. Go back to sleep.'"What do you think about that?" he asked while looking at me with genuine concern.

"Dear Fred, I think that's the best dream anyone could ever have. Do you feel better about all those skeletons being gone?"

"I don't know if it was just a dream or one of them visions people talk about. Not sure if it's due to my cancer spreading or my pain medicine. But what I do know is that I'm not worried anymore. And between now and "then" I'm going to try not to put any more skeletons back in that closet. Hopefully my sister won't offer me anymore of her soup?"

Hanging on to an old grudge?
Nursing a resentment?
Still mad about something that happened 30 years ago?
Sorry about what you said while in a state of anger?
I have had all of these thoughts and feelings!
Advice from Fred: Give it to God!