My dear friend Sarah doesn’t know I’m sharing this with you today. She hasn’t asked me to do this and maybe that makes me even more determined to help her in any way I can.
I’ll let Sarah share her story with you in her own words….
“On a crisp evening in February 2015, I sat beside my mom in an ER room as the doctor confirmed our fears. Mom had cancer…for the third time. Unsure of the details, the days of waiting began as tests were ordered and prayers were said. Several days later the oncologist pulled up a hospital chair beside Mom’s bedside and delivered the fateful news. It was a worst case scenario – stage four pancreatic cancer.
In these moments of wrestling, grace collided with my story. Friends reminded me that I was giving my all. Scripture assured me that, though I am not enough, God is. Family flew cross-country to step in and give me some time for self-care. All these gifts reminded me that through this incredibly arduous season, I could rest knowing that I was loving well, and giving what I could, and that it mattered.
All of it.
Mom’s final months were some of the hardest, most raw, and beautiful moments of our lives. I can be thankful for the big and small ways God demonstrated His love for us. The only thing I would really change in this story is not having to walk it to begin with. But as life happens, and our fallen world demonstrates, we don’t always get to choose our journeys, but there is good and blessing in all that comes our way.
Our Terminal grew out of Mom’s death and hardest struggle. My prayer is all of you who visit these pages find grace sprinkled amidst your pain and everyday hardship. And that other people’s stories encourage you to love others well through their final terminal of life.”
Even in the midst of the most difficult seasons of her life, Sarah knew that she was being called by God to use her experience to come alongside others in their experience with a terminal illness, whether they were going through it themselves or with a loved one. She kept being reminded over and over again of a terminal, that place where we wait for the next part of our journey.
And out of that Our Terminal.com was born.
Your loved one is at the bus terminal of life—their journey on this earth isn’t over. At a transition point from their healthy past life, to their eternal home waiting in the unforeseen future. This terminal we should not fear. Many people don’t get to ever sit at this transition point with their loved ones, never getting the opportunity to “gather ’round” one last time. To listen. To laugh. To learn. So many loved ones never get to wait patiently on the bench of life, enjoying this sweet sliver of time together. This terminal is a gift to us. Hard? Yes. Are tears shed? Many. Do we wish we could take them off the bench and firmly place them back to their past life? Definitely. However, we can choose to see this “terminal” as a gift; space where we can share memories of the past, show love in the present, and hold hands as we wait for the bus headed to their eternal home. Today the word “terminal” can become one of the greatest blessings God could ever give.
And our hope is that this community will be one of the redemptive pieces of your terminal story.
I’m sharing this with you today because I have a feeling that there is someone in our At the Picket Fence community who needs to know about this incredible site and is longing for some support on their journey. At Our Terminal, you can not only hear from the experiences of others, you can also find access to a variety of resources that will help you navigate through the maze that is dealing with a terminal diagnosis.
We aren’t meant to do this life alone. And we definitely aren’t meant to walk through dark seasons alone. Whether you are dealing with a terminal illness or struggling with depression or infertility or job loss or chronic pain or whatever it is that makes you feel like you are about to drown, reach out. Find support. Get help.
And if you aren’t in a dark season, come alongside someone who is.
Like my friend Sarah is doing.
Thank you so much for meeting me at the fence today and please know that this is a place where you are always welcome, just as you are, with whatever you are going through. We do life together here…all of it.