This May Be the Last Time Isn't Just a Song
by Marijo Phelps 1/06/2010 / Death
The view is totally gorgeous-evergreens and rocks scattered in the grassy hillside where I am. I look over one way to the golden yellow aspens shaking and quaking in the bright September sunlight. Beyond those trees are mountains and more mountains against the backdrop of flawless, intense blue sky scattered with white, puffy clouds. It is breathtaking here.
There are a few birds flying and a hawk emitting a piercing scream, every once in awhile. The wind is playing with my hair but not strongly enough to even be heard.
There is no sign of civilization in any direction. We'd hiked a couple of miles to this place and I decide to read. Yes, the library book and glasses are in my fanny pack. My husband goes on to do some exploring while I sit with the welcome sunlight warming my back.
The place exudes peace. God's hand has certainly touched this area of our world. My companions are a few ants crawling on the rocks.
Then I begin to have chest pains. Glancing in the direction Mick has gone I see nothing but a little dot moving through the valley below me. He is too far away to hear me call. How can he get back in time to take me to medical help? How can we walk out?
Where are those antacids? I find the package in my fanny pack and pop one into my mouth.
Being a retired RN I know that sometimes esophageal spasms mimicked actual cardiac problems and vice-versa.
I swallow. I could shoot my pistol and that would surely get Mick's attention but the amount of time it would take him to get back to me, never mind how long it would take us to walk out, was scary. For us, "over the hills and through the woods" will be a reality and not just part of a childhood song.
Yet, I am strangely at peace; forgiven and set free after years of trauma and drama in my life. If this is my time to meet Jesus "face to face", I am ready. The setting is indescribably beautiful. Should I shoot to try to get Mick's attention? How long should I wait to see if the antacid is going to "fix" the problem because if it does, then I will know it is not cardiac.
The prayer that passed my lips is something eloquent like "HELP, Lord!"
The sun warms my back and that gripping, gnawing pain in the middle of my chest lets loose.
I take a big breath of the fresh, unpolluted air while thanking God I am alive. I am thanking God that I am ready, should this have been the timing. Then, thanking God my hubby doesn't have to go through anything more traumatic today than leaving me on the mountainside to read my library book.
I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile. (NIV)
so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life. (NIV)
(C) Marijo Phelps all rights reserved. Use with proper credits.
Saved by His grace in 1974, from 9 years of professing atheism into His loving arms. RN for 23 years, missionary with YWAM then statistical analyst for Every Home for Christ over 9 years. Living with my husband in the middle of a mountain meadow. GRIN! Wanting to spread the good news