We knew my grandma was in pain for a long time. We’d seen her suffering from COPD for the better part of a decade and it was a painful and slow decline. Her lungs were losing their elasticity and every breath was slightly harder than the last breath. 

We'd see her about once a year and every time her breath was shorter, and her stamina had decreased. Walking from the couch to the dining room table was exhausting and she had to stop to catch her breath. She knew the way she was going to pass was essentially suffocating to death. I can’t imagine the mental toll of living in that fear for so long.  

As the decade of struggling with this progressed, she kept saying, "Lord, please just take me home." And we were truthfully echoing that prayer with her. She had lived a good life, but at this point she was unable to do much of anything and was burdened with pain and fear. The way someone close to you passes with COPD is a hard reality to have looming over you.

A few months ago, she ended up in the hospital from unrelated complications. It was here she had started talking to the doctors about going through with MAID (Medical Assistance in Dying). 

I didn’t know much about MAID at this point beyond what I thought about it being cowardly, selfish, and totally wrong. I remember us all being hurt, angry, and wondering, how could you put your family through this?

Everything felt like it happened so fast.  I was in shock. None of my family had any exposure to this. We had no idea what we were getting into. My wife had lost her mom to cancer but I hadn’t personally experienced death so close to me before, much less such a situation like this. 

In our daze, we leaned on friends as much as we could–for wisdom and strength.  I looked for resources from a Christian perspective on navigating these specific dynamics and I really couldn't find anything helpful, and leaned on this rendition of “I Surrender All” that I found so encouraging in this time of turmoil and uncertainty.. Our friends, while very supportive, hadn’t dealt with this either. We felt in over our heads.

As my wife and I prepared to go and be with my grandma during the procedure, and the days inched closer to our flight, the more I started to really start to think about my extended family and our upcoming joint experience. 

My wife and I have a really strong support system in our community, but I knew that wasn’t the case for everyone in my family. We knew before leaving, we would enter into a posture of emotional and spiritual cover for our family.

A couple days later we got on a plane. My parents, my sister and her husband, and my wife and I were going to head out on a drive to the hospital a few hours away. Right before we started that Friday morning, I really felt this sense to stop and pray as a family. 

It was a bit foreign for me. Usually, my dad was the one in our family who would spiritually lead like this… Who would call us to pray together as a family. But I could see he was feeling so much and burdened by what was happening with his mom. It felt like that opened up my heart to hear that prompting from the spirit.

So in the gravel parking lot of this dingy hotel in the middle of nowhere we entered into prayer. 

Even though I was prompted, I had no idea what to pray for. So I listened. And then I just invited God’s presence into the day with us. “We don't know how to navigate this. We don't have what it takes to make it through this…” And then very specifically, I felt the Holy Spirit put this on my heart: “Lord, our family can have a hard time experiencing and processing emotions. And I pray today that you give us the freedom to be blubbering fools.”

So we got in the car and drove the two hours, talking about life and reminiscing about Grandma. We passed by the lake we used to go to as kids and remembered the good times with her.

When we got to her room at the hospital, I looked into the door and saw my grandma lying on the couch with my grandpa sitting there beside her. It was this picture that broke me. I saw in my grandpa’s face his sorrow. He was so broken. I got hit in the chest with a wave of emotion stronger than I’ve ever felt before.

I’m not a person who cries really ever, and not for lack of desire. But as we stepped into the room, I was sobbing–out loud tears pouring down my face. My tears were for myself, for my grandpa, for my dad, for my whole family – it all hit me as I was crossing the threshold of that door.

My family, cousins, and uncles and aunts all spent the next few hours reminiscing and telling stories. There was a lot of laughter and remembering the good times. Sporadically, the weight of it would hit.

Towards the end of the few hours, I asked, "Hey, grandma, would you be okay if we prayed?" She said yes, and we all gathered close and had our arms around each other and I felt the Spirit prompt me again, so I said, "Okay, I'll lead us in prayer."

It was silent for what felt like 20 minutes. Again, I had no idea where to go in the prayer. I felt the sorrow of my whole family, our individual experiences, the heartbreak of my grandpa, and the fleeting life of my beautiful grandma who I didn’t want to say goodbye to. I had to center myself and interiorly, I cried out to the Lord, “I don't have the words. I don't know what to say in a time like this. Will you speak through me?”

It was one of those moments where I truly felt what it means to be a vessel of the Spirit. 

To pray when you have only feelings of sorrow can feel like a battle. It’s the most vulnerable parts of yourself being laid bare, but laid bare before God. 

I pushed past everything I felt and wanted to say–fully pushing myself aside in that moment of being flooded–to allow space for the Spirit to operate for my sake and the sake of my family. It was a next-level version of surrender and humility that I have ever had to step into. 

I was overcome with emotion, praying through the outpouring of tears. Afterwards I turned to my wife and said “That was one of the hardest things I ever had to do”. 

“I surrender all.”

That moment felt so short and so long all at once. I leaned on God with my whole mind, heart, and soul. 

As we moved through prayer together, and then wrapped up, my grandma asked my aunt to play worship music in the background. 

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When the doctor did come in, we were all a little taken aback. Your mind's reeling because this thing you’ve been preparing for is all of a sudden happening. They put people to sleep before the procedure, and so we began to watch my grandma getting tired. 

Something beautiful about my grandma was that she was so motherly her whole life. She just always wanted to love and care for us all. And a few minutes before the doctor had come in, she'd said to my grandpa, "Can you still take everyone for Chinese food after this? And I'd like you to pay for them." And he says, "Yeah, I think I can swing it." 

They put people to sleep before the procedure, and so we began to watch my grandma getting tired. When her eyes were starting to close, she looked at my grandpa and said, “Bye pops.” Then she looked around the room and said to all of us, “Enjoy the Chinese food.”, then looked back at him and said “Bye pops” one more time as she drifted off. That’s when I just really fell into him, embracing him, and just crying all over him. It hit me like a load of bricks. I couldn’t believe what was happening. 

It was hard to physically tell when she was gone because of her already shallow breathing. But as I was watching her face, there was this moment of perception on a spiritual level – that feeling of knowing when her soul left her body. It was like the whole room sensed it. There was a deep wail and sob happening between all of us. We sat with her for a few minutes and then my sister asked the nurse, “can you please take her oxygen hose out?”

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Her hose had been a great burden for her. She had had this hose for oxygen for almost a decade and she hated it. She hated how it looked. She hated having to be chained to the wall with it. It felt right to rid her of it now that she didn’t need it.

The nurse took the hose out and threw it in the garbage, and as soon as it hit the garbage, the worship playlist that was playing began to ring out through the hospital room with these words: 

“My chains are gone, I've been set free

My God, my Savior has ransomed me

And like a flood His mercy reigns

Unending love, amazing grace.”

All of a sudden, there were these beautiful tears happening in the room. There was a collective joyful sob in the room realizing that despite everything, the thing holding her down was not holding her anymore. In this act of evil, God was still present and showing us His love.

What I learned that day is irreplicable.

I have experienced the sorrow and sting of losing someone I love dearly. My family and I have walked through waters we never considered we would have to cross. But I do feel like in the process of baring my heart, I got a glimpse of God’s heart and strength in a way I may not have been able to taste otherwise.

Prior to this experience and even in the midst of it, I felt pressure to come up with a stance or understanding on what was happening with my grandma. But after walking through it, I realized I can't claim to make a judgment call on the state of her soul, nor is that my responsibility. I do know that there is evil forces at play that allow something like this to come to bear, but can't make a claim on the state of her heart within that, knowing there are so many factors affecting her ability to make decisions from a place of sound mind and judgment, lack of oxygen, nutrition, years of crippling fear and many others,I just don't know, and I’m not God. But I think a part of me has felt leading up to this moment, the moment she left us, and in the days to come– is very much a sense of hope.  

A wise, and good friend said to me that the beautiful part of God's grace is that His justice is perfect. We can trust that He can hold all of the complex dynamics in a situation that we could never understand. God knows my grandma’s heart and where her spirit was at. He knows her mental capacity in making a decision like this and whether or not she's engaging in that in freedom. He can hold these tensions in a way that none of us can. 

So my hope now is not in my own understanding or even my own peace, but that I surrender to the fact that I know God is bigger than me, or us, or the judgments that we might want to make on any situation.

“I surrender all.” 

I feel like once I got to that place, it was very freeing. I am letting go of having to internally make a decision about what I believe happened to her and just say, God is bigger than this.

I realized my role in it all is not having answers or orchestrating a specific outcome, but was just being present. Another wise friend had said to me, "as you enter into this, all that's required of you is presence." And I felt the significance of that and leaned into it. I was present to the Spirit, myself, my own emotions, and I think that allowed me to be present to my family in a new way. There was a new way of operating with the Spirit that I had never experienced before.

As grey and dark and messy as it all was, I know for a fact that God was in the room with us the whole day, we saw his presence play out tangibly in so many different way. The decisions we make don't surpass His power, His love, or His ability to be with us despite what those decisions might bring about. He is bigger than it all. 

“I surrender all.”