When Grace Came

Introduction:

I wrote this story last year to say thank you to the entire staff of Moody-Daniel Funeral Home in Zebulon for the care and love that they showed for my wife and our family.

Thank you and I love you all.

I wanted to write a story that was inspired by Grace from the funeral home and my words were influenced by a Matt McClure song. I hope you enjoy both the story and the song.

————

When Grace came to the hospital from the funeral home to pick up my wife she walked up to me and told me how sorry she was for Chris’s passing. I replied, Thank you, Grace, for your kind words and for coming to get Chris.

Grace looked at me and said, “Mr. Larry, Terrell sends his love to you. He said to tell you that we will take great care of Miss Chris.”

Grace paused briefly and asked me to leave the room while they put Chris in a spill-proof black body bag. Grace said, “Mr. Larry, you don’t want to watch us put Miss Chris in this bag.

Grace said, Would you mind waiting at the Nurses’ station until we get Mrs. Chris situated? “I said, “Yes, of course, I will.

She and her hospital colleague rolled my wife from her hospice room and into the hallway about five minutes later. I noticed a lovely, colorful blanket draped over her. Grace said you can say goodbye to her again if you would like.

I ambled towards her body in a slow cadence. I didn’t want to get there too fast because I hated having to say goodbye.

I watched Chris be rolled away until I lost sight of her as she rounded the corner. I stood stunned, tears pouring, thunder erupting inside my heart, and I was heartbroken.

And at that moment, the devil came to collect me, and he locked me away in a cold and dark jail, where misery and grief are my cellmates.

A play between the jailer and the jester for the key that only God has.

All I want to do is sit here and cry, maybe I’ll go and lie in my bed and die?

I kneel before my bed and put my hands together, and I cry out, “Father, please let me die. I no longer want to be here. Father, I want to be with You, my son, and my wife. Please take me home while I sleep. Amen.”

When I awoke, I wiped the sleep from my eyes. I saw a man standing at my cell door. It was not the jailer; it was the Redeemer. He held the jailer’s key in his hand.

He said calmly and kindly, “Son, I stand here and wait for you. Come forth and stand before me.”

I rolled out of bed and stood before him, half dead from grief, and somehow I managed to whisper in a weak and broken voice. “Savior, why did you not take me in my sleep?

He said, “Because you have forgotten me in your grief, and I have never forgotten you. “He looked at me and said, “Son, you have given up on yourself, but I will never give up on you.

The Redeemer looked into my eyes with a razor-sharp stare and said, “The devil cannot steal anything from me, but he has stolen much from you.” I have come to offer you the key to this cell, but before I give it to you, you must first provide me with something. I say with great concern, “What is that, Lord? My Savior replied, “You must give me your heart again.”

I cry out, Lord, “ You have always had my heart! And the Savior then looked at me with fire in his eyes and replied, No son, you gave yourself to the darkness of dispare, and your grief overtook you, and you handed yourself over to the evil one, and he has plans to kill you, but I will not let him do that because you are mine.

Son, promise me you will never give up on yourself. If you can do that, I will give you life. If you want to live, step forward to the door.

The Savior handed me a key through the bars for the jail cell door. He turned, and before He walked away, He said, “You are no longer the creature that lost himself, you are no longer the Jester.” You are free.

I unlocked the cell door, stood there for a few minutes, and cried before stepping out the door to a new beginning. I’m still hurting, I’m still sad, and I’m still heartbroken.

I heard a voice in the jail office, “Hello, is anyone here?” I entered the office and saw a woman putting food on the table. I asked her, “Who is the food for?” She replied,” For everyone here.” She said, “Come and make yourself a plate.” Then she turned and smiled at me and said, “I’ve got to go now.” I said, “Do you mind telling me your name?” She smiled and said, “My name is Hope.” I laughed out loud and said, “ Of course it is with great astonishment.

I look up to Heaven and say with a huge smile, “Thank you, Jesus!”