This Train is Bound for Glory

 

Dave took me to the Reno train depot early the morning of January 5th to catch the Zepher Amtrak train to the San Francisco Bay Area.   My dear mother-in-law, Ramona, affectionately called “Monie”, passed away.  Her soul left this earth to be with her heavenly Father just days before, on New Year's morning.   This photo of the two of us was tucked into her dresser mirror.  I believe it was taken when we’d attended a women’s event at church together roughly 20 years ago.

As I road the Amtrak that day, I could not help but reflect on the truths of the American gospel song "This Train" and be comforted by the fact that Monie was resting in the arms of her Lord, Jesus Christ.

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This Train Is Bound For Glory | Tennessee Ernie Ford | The Ford Show

I road with her in a medical transport from San Diego to Encinitas the last day of her life.  We settled her into an assisted living apartment that evening in a hospital bed.   Early the following morning on New Years Day, she drew her last breath.  No one expected her to let go of this world so quickly.  In early December, Monie suffered a severe stroke.  My husband and I spent much of December visiting her in either Scripps Hospital and the post-acute care facility where she was released for rehabilitation.  We hoped she would improve with physical therapy, but it seemed every day her condition worsened.  Earlier in the month we'd begun preparations to move her to Reno so that we could provide long term care near where we live.  On New Year's Eve.

Despite her circumstances the last month of her life which that limited her ability to speak or care for herself, the time we spent together was marked by profound joy.  She never lost her sense of humor; she was always ready to laugh at the simple memories we recalled.  One afternoon I brought my ukulele to sing worship songs with her.  She picked “Jesus Loves Me” and “Trust and Obey.”  Afterwards, she commented on what a wonderful day it had been and peered up into the ceiling as if we were surrounded by a host of invisible witnesses.  One afternoon she prayed a New Years blessing over us.  Another time, she patted something on the right side of her bed.  When I asked her what she was patting, she said she was patting her beloved dog, Bernadette, who had been gone for many years. 

Monie’s joy, was a witness to her faith.  Having known Monie for over 40 years, I had never seen her so at peace as she was during the last month of her life.   The last few years of her life she had become more and more isolated.  In the middle of the pandemic she’d fallen and broken her leg requiring a new replacement.  Afterwards, she no longer drove.  Between the pandemic and her inability to drive she had tons of time alone.   Monie had always been a kind jolly person, but those years alone blanketed her with a level of peace and joy that was remarkable to witness.