Bad Friday? Or a Very Good Friday in Disguise?

It was Friday, Good Friday, to be exact, when I received a call from my husband explaining that my Oma (my grandmother) was not doing very well. He had just received a call from my Mom, he said, and it didn't look like there was much time left.

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I had braced myself for this call for a long time now. After five years of struggling with dementia, and two debilitating forms of cancer, our whole family had anticipated that Oma did not have long on earth. Five years was a blessing as it was. After her initial diagnosis with cancer she was only supposed to have nine months to live. The extension of her life was a miracle, and not one without many, many blessings for my family.

My Oma had been in terrible shape several times, and many a time we thought we would lose her. But she kept clinging onto life --- even as her body continued to flirt with edges of death, it seemed that her soul kept bringing her back to life. As my Mom liked to say, "She still has some unfinished business to tend to."

When my husband came to pick me up, I was already preparing myself for an emotional weekend, but as he rounded the corner on his way to the highway, he rolled over the curb, and there was a loud thunderous noise. He had blown the tire, and as that tire broke, I snapped, too.

Bursting into tears, I thought to myself, "I thought this was supposed to be Good Friday!"

I had always wondered why it was called Good Friday. Besides, to Christians at the time of Jesus' death, it must have been the very worst of Fridays. The generally happy day of Friday did not signal the end of the week for them, but rather the end of their Savior. Or so they thought...

They did not know the end of the story as we know it... but on this particular Good Friday, I'm pretty sure that I forgot that I knew the end of the story, too.  Right now all I could think about was how my sick husband was now under our car struggling to change our tire, and how if he didn't change it fast, I might not get to see my Oma this side of the universe.

Fortunately, for us, the tire got fixed, we got a new one,  and we finally made it back to my parents house to see my Oma.

That night, my parents, my Opa (my grandfather), my husband, and I crowded around Oma to pray over her, unbeknownst to us, for the very last time. As we said our tearful prayers, I realized that I had some "unfinished business" of my own. A long time ago, my Oma had genuinely hurt me, and while I barely acknowledged it, I had not yet forgiven her. At that very moment as we were praying for my Oma, I realized that I needed to tell her a few things: First, she needed to know that I loved her, and that I was blessed by her. But finally, she needed to know that I forgave her.

At 2 am, my Mom came into my room and told me that my Oma was dying. As I crept into her room and sat next to my Mom and my Opa, I prayed that God would relieve her of her suffering and take her to heaven. As I finished my prayer, she took her last and final breath. And at 2:13 am, just like that she was gone.

It hurts now that she's gone. I find it ironic that she didn't pass on Good Friday, but she died on the day in between Good Friday and His resurrection. It was as if God was giving our family a day to grieve before we could rejoice. A single day to let things sink in...

And I remembered... I remembered the end of the story. That Jesus rose that I might be forgiven... that I might forgive her. That Friday, God showed me Romans 8:28 in a tangible way. He showed me that He can make all things good for those who love Him. That even a bad Friday like the day He died can be made good by His divine perfection.

My Oma's suffering provided healing to broken family relationships. It bonded my Mom and my Opa. It brought my Uncle and our cousin out to visit us. It brought healing between my Oma and my Mom and it brought healing between me and my Oma. That is a beautiful thing, a good and perfect gift from the Lord.

But that wasn't enough... God still had more to teach me, even after my Oma was gone. It is a lesson that I have learned many times before, but praise God that He is patient, because without His patience, he would not have led me back to Ecclesiastes.

I leave you with God's final thoughts for you and for me:

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven;
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot...
a time to tear down and time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance..."

The last verse is of particular importance to me, because this is not the first time that God has spoken to me regarding those verses. It is clear that right now is a time for my family and I to mourn. But the time of dancing is coming...

I find it interesting that the words on the right side of the above verses -- uproot, build, laugh, and dance-- are all on the same side as the time to die. And I am reminded of God's promise, of the new covenant we celebrate on Easter -- the covenant of renewed life if we only confess with our mouth and believe in our heart that Jesus Christ is Lord.

And now I know, it was not a bad Friday, just a very good Friday in disguise.