Brooklyn - #13

There’s an Instagram account I had been following that was written by a young woman with a terminal illness. Brooklyn_Speaks She passed to glory recently. I’d like to share her last post which was just a week before she died. I find it humbling and inspiring.

Hospice Update:
“Did you die?” Much like the inquiry of the tiny turtle in “Finding Nemo,” this question has been popping up in my inbox frequently. Answer: Nope, still kicking it. If you count “kicking” off my bed covers when I get too warm.
I haven’t posted in a bit. I’ve been busy dying. It takes a lot of naps. Trips to the bathroom are a team effort. Pain meds make me unable to read… There hasn’t been much ability to write. I seem to decline daily. Also, new things appear daily. Like a surprise visit from a puppy that my dad arranged for me. Which was AMAZING. But the new things are generally not fun. Like getting a 7th tube attached to my body yesterday…
As I wait for my last breaths I’ve been reading through the gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, John). The Apostle’s descriptions of Jesus’ crucifixion are a gut punch for anyone. Now, dying myself, the description of how my Savior died is so much more potent. It leaves me in awe of a God who was born into flesh, willing to die in brutality (and rise again) for the sin of humanity.
Jesus didn’t JUST die…
I’m dying in a bougie adjustable pillow-top bed. He died naked and exposed amongst criminals. I get kind notes and cards from friends and strangers alike. He was hurled insults and abuse. My best friends visit me, His abandoned Him, denying even knowing Him (John 19, Mark 14-15).
Every step of this process makes me even more elated over the gift of salvation (Rom. 10:9-10, Eph. 2:8) which I explained in depth in my previous post. Salvation is a thing better than a million puppies. So, the answer is ‘Yes, I’m still alive, and dying.’

Better than a million puppies.

Sunrise in Hilo, Hawaii