My in-laws are in their mid-eighties. I’ve known them longer than I knew my own parents who died when I was a teen. I call them Mom and Dad and they have lovingly filled a gaping hole my own own heart.
In recent visits, they would ask us to sit and watch their favorite videos with them. They love the Gaither Vocal Band, particularly the Homecoming series. It’s a unique thing to watch them in their lounging chairs singing songs about Heaven with expressions of wistful anticipation.
Dad’s increasing weakness and mom’s progressive dementia caused my husband to make the difficult decision to place them in assisted living. It was 3 weeksof crying and convincing, but they are now safely in a Sunrise community in Michigan and they like it.
Now mom is weakening. She’s had two bouts of pneumonia. When hosiptalized in her dementia confusion, she pulls the IVs out and yells at the nurses. Having served for decades as a nurse herself, she has become the difficult patient.
My husband called me from Michigan last night and said Mom was inconsolable. She cries to “go home”, although she thinks that the Sunrise facility is their first apartment they had when they got married over 65 years ago.
The only way she was comforted last night was when Dad held her and sang to her. He sang her favorite song and today the words are resonating with me as such a fitting, peace-filled end to this story. May I share them with you here?
The Love of God, by Frederick Lehman, 1917
The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win;
His erring child He reconciled,
And pardoned from his sin.
Refrain: Oh, love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure—
The saints’ and angels’ song.
When hoary time shall pass away,
And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
When men who here refuse to pray,
On rocks and hills and mountains call,
God’s love so sure, shall still endure,
All measureless and strong;
Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—
The saints’ and angels’ song.
Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.
From one erring child to another – so grateful for God’s love so sure, still enduring, all measureless and strong.
